Author's Note: Hey everybody. I would like to inform you that this chapter just about kicked my hindquarters. Ok, so it did, and I hate admitting defeat. It's nota big action chapter; it's another development chapter. We argued about it should hold and how it should end, and it won. Lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter and will review and tell me how you thought it was, even if you thought it was crap. I won't hate ya...much ;)
Thank you Cat for reading over this for me!
Reviewer Responses:
Macky: Hey, thanks reviewing. I put some more Merle in this chapter for ya :). Take care,
Kou-Kagerou- Hey chic. I hope classes are going well and you got some time to visit home. Answers to your questions... The boys were going to use one of Dilandau's sketches until they discovered that he had none of anyone that looked young enough to be Celena. I forgot about the woman suiting up for battle drawing. It doesn't look like Celena, but if the Slayers had never seen her before they would probably take any picture of a female that was of age. So, I'm going to add the detail that the woman in the picture is in her twenties. grins...so what if it's cheating :P Actually, Folken could have figured out that Allen's family is the only branch of Schezars (Zaibach has good stuff, and since Allen's dad is the guy that spited Zabaich's pin-curled chief and the theft of his daughter wasn't random, they do have extensive Schezar files) and I was working under the assumption that he did. The reason why he didn't push harder to obtain a blood sample from him is in this chapter (yeah, so he'll still sound like a pansy, but what can we do lol). Thanks for thinking I was really smart though lol, inflates my ego. You should be the author ;). Lol Marie griping at Folken for Allen shoving him into the door, goes back to when you're really frustrated, you're frustrated at anyone who dares to breathe in your presence. Haha, glad you liked the Slayer argument, I hope I carried it over well into this chapter. I'm still dealing with how each one of them is internalizing the problems they are being faced with. I'm glad that you're still enjoying the story, no matter how long or slow some of the chapters can drag. Thank you for making time to read the story and snap me up for things I could be doing better. You keep me on task :). Take care, good luck with classes, and thanks again!
Pocketfirefairy: Lol! That's the first poor Allen I have heard! Allen will be happy to know that he has a fan. Yay, someone else thinks Allen and Dilandau act alike ;), I'm getting somewhere. Take care and thanks for the review!
Higashikaze: Thank you :). I'm glad you like the story. The one-shots simply feedback into the story. I try to make it to where they don't really have to be read for the story to be understood, but if you wanted in depth description of an event, that's where you would go. :) :) One day I do hope to publish my fiction :)... but not this, because I'd be sued by people with lots of money, who'd scoff at the small amount they'd get from me, but would still take it and giggle at me and my empty wallet. Ooh... the Escaflowne dubs and the cuts that Fox kids made to make it more Saturday morning appropriate... shakes head. The first few episodes I rented from Hastings were Fox cuts, and when I actually bought the series it almost seemed like a new anime. Aw... well, I know Van/Dilandau isn't for everyone, but it amuses me; glad you can look past it :). Valeska and Celena.. Well if you don't like Val, you're not gonna like Celena much either lol. Not a big difference between those two, if there's any at all ;). I will tell Folken you said he was adorable, though I will be careful not to say it around "his boys" lol. Dilandau is a fun character to write and grow with. Allen is a fun character to make annoying ;). I am so happy that you like long chapters, because I have a problem with writing short ones, especially when I try to lol. Glad you do not think this story is a bunch of crap strung together, haha; that cracked me up! In response to another review you submitted ( because I don't know when I'll ever get back to that story lol) I'll admit, one of my favorite things to do is medical research. My favorite classes in undergrad were neuroscience and first aide, so that's why. You write what ya know :). Anyways, thank you so much for reviewing and I hope you enjoy another long chapter. Oh, and you may want to stay away from the "If I Didn't Know Better" one shot ;).
Strangedream: Ooh, I want to answer your question so bad, but if I do I'd be telling. Hmm... I'll give you a hint: Did I ever really say how many Fate Alterations Celena actually had? ;). Lol, if you e-mail me I can say more, if you really want to know and can't wait. Ask anyone who talks to me, and they'll let you know that I'm not a very good secret keeper lol. Thanks for reviewing girl, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter! Take care!
Katsu: Hehe, you're not lying when you say this story is more like a book. I just went over 500 pages with this chapter. Now I'm like oh gosh...I really, really have to wrap this up soon. I am so glad you like it, and sigh... the part you want to see will have to come in the next chapter. This one far exceeded its bandwidth, so I had to hold off on some stuff I really wanted to get to. Hopefully next chapter will resolve more issues and get to some more fun topics. Thank you for reviewing and take care! I hope you like the chapter even if it doesn't include the fun stuff yet ;).
Gadget151: Lol, no I'm not laughing at your e-mail problem, but what you said about the "doof" Haha! Yes, Celena and Valeska are one in the same :) but it may not be so confusing when you think about Celena's behavior lol. Thanks for the review girl, and I hope you get your e-mail back soon :). Take care!
S.P. Vinter: LOL! Well, I hope you enjoy the previous chapters and that you'll like this one too. Did you want me to e-mail you and let you know when I've put something new up? Anyways, lol, take care and thanks for dropping me a line. Nice to hear from you again :).
Haruko: Hey! Happy you liked the chapter and I hope you'll like this one as well. Dilandau's dream was strange to write, but I'm glad you thought it turned out well. Allen and Celena interaction is fun and you will get to see a lot more of Celena. :) Lol, also glad you like the Slayer parts. Yes, being stubborn runs in the Schezar family; it's a dominant trait ;). Oh yes, there will be a quite a few more chapters until the end. The story and I aren't seeing eye to eye. It thinks I need to slow down, and I want a close. We're still doing battle; we'll see who wins. Take care, and thanks for reviewing!
Nikku: An entire chapter with no Van... yup, did you miss him? He's in this chapter plenty, so don't worry, if you were ;). Think I already told ya that though. So happy you liked Folken and Allen's chat...er...argument lol. It was kind of production at the end. Folken and Marie and blinkers... not talking, but you'll see :). Gosh, you're so blunt; the scary thing is Shesta would appreciate the remark and consider it a compliment. Grins about water in your eyes You big softy! And get your mind out of the gutter, if there is any yaoi between Slayers, how much you wanna bet Viole wouldn't choose Shesta ;). Dude, the Celena body changing scene would have freaked me out if I was there to witness it. It's one thing in the anime that I will never forget, so I had to keep it in. Allen has another fan :). He's gloating now. Celena is a brat and she would like for you to refer to her as worse than Valeska. Alright, it's here. I know I told you afternoon and its almost evening here...but what can I say, work is annoying. Take care and thanks for reviewing!
Glass Angel1: Eww school, finals, work lol! School and finals are over for me until August, but work keeps calling and I need to start the grad school hunt. Thanks for reviewing girl and I'm happy you like how the story is turning out and how the characters are developing. Take care!
Namida: Hey girl, haven't heard from you in a while :). Hmm...I updated, but it wasn't what you probably meant by soon, so am I out of a best friend:(. LOL! J/K. Glad you liked the chapter and hope you like this new one. Take care and thanks for reviewing.
Renluva: Eek, she died. Should I do CPR... Eek, no, she lives (lol, sorry I'm at work and I'm bored, so I'm being silly). You are right; no one has been updating lately. I wish I would get more alerts to things I want to read in my inbox :(. I'm happy the story is unfolding nicely for ya, and I hope you enjoy the new installment. Thank you for reviewing and take care!
Skippys Cat: Hey chica. I never know what to say to you in these, because I talk to ya so much. You know more about the plot now, than I do :). I am at work right now posting this, and then I am going to get started on the next chapter so that I can deliver the part promised. I WILL have it for you this week. Well, I hope you're having a great day and I'll chat with ya later. Thank you so much for being my beta. I know you get tired of hearing this but: I wuv ya Cat! Take care!
Chapter 26
Marie's face was hard as stone, her eyes cold as she stared at Folken from her stool. She tapped short nails against the polished metal table, eyes narrowing minutely as he spoke. Folken had decided to wait until morning before he spoke to anyone about what he knew. The Dragonslayers had returned and gone bed, and Folken had sat in his room, turning the black box Dallet had delivered to him from the heart of Valeska's, or Celena's, Alseid, over and over in his hands, pondering his next move– telling Marie.
"Folken, you are an idiot."
Folken blinked, lowering his eyes for a moment, before lifting them again to meet hers.
"We've had the answer here all this time, and you let it run by us time and time again! Forget looking for Celena, Valeska, whatever the hell she wants to call herself these days, we need Allen! Young men are much better donors than women. There's less of a chance Dilandau's body will reject Allen's marrow... that is, if he's a match. Which we could have known for sure a long time ago! Damn you, Folken! Damn you and your stupid manners! You should have told me! I would have stuck him! I WILL stick him!"
Folken sighed, massaging his temples; Marie was so predictable.
"Marie, we can't just..."
"I damned well can. Just you wait. I'll get Pearce and a few Dragonslayers, and we'll get this show started."
"Marie..."
Marie rose from her chair, grabbing Folken by the collar of his shirt and pulling him close, until they were nose to nose, her hot breath on his lips. "I will not let that boy die because of your sense of honor and nobility. I respect you for wanting to adhere to it, but I do not follow the codes you do, and I will do as I see fit. I thought you cared, Folken; I thought you'd do anything..."
Folken caught her by the wrists, squeezing hard as anger pulsed through his veins. How dare she? How dare she... "Don't ever say that again! I love Dilandau; he's a brother to me, and I'm not sacrificing his life for honor! I'm ensuring a future here for us. If we make enemies of these people by attacking a Knight Caeli, where would we go? What kind of lives would these boys lead? If we grabbed Allen, drugged him and stole his blood... where would we test it and perform the procedure? We'd be thrown out of this place so fast... I am only thinking ahead!"
Marie struggled, freeing a wrist and smacking him across the face, hard. "Think now!"
"I can't! Marie, if Allen's not a match, what then? If he is, and Dilandau's body still doesn't accept it, if we find something else wrong... We have to be secure. I am the provider. They're children, Marie. They need this. They need someone who can plan ahead. Dilandau would want me to do this, if he knew..."
"But he doesn't. He doesn't know anything at all. Are you even going to tell him what Celena's last name is?– what his last name is?"
"It's not important..."
"Not important? To a boy who thinks he's a creation of science with no family, no background, no history? Folken, sometimes I really want to think you're of a different species than the rest of us! You can't be human, if you don't understand the basic human need of family!"
"Dilandau has family!"
Marie stared, removing her other hand from Folken and stepping back, studying him hard. "So... You want him to yourself?– is that it? Your little Van rejects you for that creep Schezar, and you don't want Dilandau doing the same?"
"They don't even like each other!" Folken couldn't help but utter.
"Folken, if that's your reason, so help me I'll deck you in the..."
"Marie, you know better than that!" Folken turned away from her. "At least I thought you did."
"No, you didn't. Apparently you don't think anything much of me, judging from all the secrets you keep! You honestly think I'm beyond reason. You think I could ignore all the... the sense you just made to run off and attack a knight who could very well have the lot of us hanged as traitors?" Marie fumed, stalking toward him and spinning him around. "So, I got angry and said some things in the heat of the moment, but I'm not a fool, Folken. And I truly hope that you wouldn't ally yourself with someone you thought to be one."
Folken frowned, looking at her in full. She wasn't wearing a lab coat or the plain white tunic and long pants of her doctor's uniform, but a boy's black, sleeveless undershirt and a pair of cotton pants that tied on either side that women wore into bath houses. Marie placed both her small hands on her finely shaped hips and waited for Folken's response, twisting her tiny waist from side to side in attempt to...
Crack.
Great good gods... Folken took a step closer, inviting himself into her bubble of personal space, staring down at her. She was a head shorter than he was and her golden red hair smelled of vanilla. Marie tilted her head back to glare at him defiantly and stopped, emerald eyes going wide with surprise, then soft... soft with something that made something inside of Folken turn cartwheels.
"You think I'm a fool, Folken?" Her voice was a whisper, her lips parting slightly. Folken wondered...
He wondered what they tasted like.
Probably much better than they looked... he dipped his head as she rose on her toes to meet him halfway.
He felt the gentle nick of her tongue against his lips and he opened his mouth, allowing her entrance. Her professional hands mused his hair as the fine contours of her body pressed against his. He let his arms fall to her sides and he hesitantly let them close around her waist.
"Yes," she purred between kisses. "Yes, yes..."
Yes, what? Folken thought, daring to massage her buttocks, encouraged by a receptive moan. He groaned himself as her hands found a special place at the nape of his neck that she worked with.
This felt...
He felt...
Was this what Naria and Eriya had felt for him?
"Yes..."
Poor kits.
"Hey Dr. Marie, Lord Folken, Lord Dilandau's awake and he's... woah!"
Folken jumped, biting Marie's tongue and she yelped, punching his chest and stepping back, hand over her smarting mouth. They both turned to a devilish-looking Guimel, annoyance clearly read in both their expressions.
"Oops... sorry about that. You should really put a sign on the door. A simple 'Do not disturb' would suffice, or hey, you could be really creative and have it say 'the Doctor is in... literally."' Guimel chuckled at himself, beaming at Folken and Marie.
"Guimel..."
"All I can say is: It's about damn time. Geez, Folken. For a smart guy, you sure can be stupid," Guimel snorted, propping himself in the doorway and wiggling a brow.
Marie snickered, hitting Folken lightly on the shoulder and winking at him. "Kid's got a point. Now, what were you saying, Guimel?"
"Oh," Guimel straightened, playful light in his eyes dimming a bit. "Lord Dilandau's up and he's... cranky. Is he good to leave his room? We think he needs to get out."
Folken tidied his hair and without thinking, reached out to reorder Marie's as well. Marie raised a brow and Guimel gave a fake gag. "Gross, they're grooming each other. Love... ick."
"Grow up," Marie said, grinning at Guimel fondly," and that captain of yours isn't going anywhere until I check him out. I'm assuming Miguel is up because Dilandau is, but is Shesta awake as well?"
Guimel snorted lightly as he thought of Miguel. "Miguel's taking a bath, and I think he's going to be in there for a while."
"And Shesta?"
Guimel shrugged. "I don't know– he's probably up. Me and him aren't on such good terms right now."
Marie rolled her eyes. "Toddlers, the whole lot of you."
"Gonna spank us now, Momma?– or is Daddy first in line?"
Guimel bolted from the doorway before Marie could throw a slipper at him. She turned to Folken, amused smile on her marvelous lips. "Maybe I should spank you for giving me 7 children."
"You can only spank me, if I leave. I'm not going anywhere."
Marie took his hand, caressing the fingers before moving to get her lab coat. She shrugged the white jacket over her shoulders and peered at Folken. "We weren't through talking before, Folken, about Dilandau and his brother and twin sister. When are you going to tell him?– because not telling him isn't an option, not for you."
Folken gazed at the hand she'd touched, memories of his talk with Allen Schezar souring his thoughts. Allen and Dilandau were so similar it hurt Folken for them not to notice it, and if Allen had reacted that badly, what would Dilandau do?
He would be angry at Folken for not telling him when he first knew, but after that?– after Folken had to tell Dilandau of Allen's negative reaction? Folken knew what it felt like to be rejected by family. It was a brutal internal blow, forceful enough to bring false blood to one's lips.
It would hurt Dilandau; it would hurt him deeply, and Folken didn't want to do that to him.
But was it better to live without family or to live knowing that your only surviving family hated every fiber of your very being?
Folken longed to know what it would be like to live in the answer of the former part of the question, for the latter part he was already experiencing.
"I don't want to break his heart, Marie," Folken finally said.
"He would rather know, Folken."
Marie was right; Dilandau would want to know, but... Not just yet. Folken had to give him time to recover, to be stronger...
"I'll tell him when the right time comes."
Marie paused in deliberating on if she should pack a mask and gloves in her brown bag. Shesta had a throat infection that Marie was sure had past the contagious stage... She decided not to pack the precautions... Dilandau had probably been exposed to much worse than Shesta in his short time in Astoria, and mask and gloves were not going to prevent him from getting ill, if it was fated to happen.
Fate.
Folken hated that word.
"Fine, Folken. I trust you to do the right thing by him." Marie buttoned her coat. "You coming?"
"Yes, of course."
"Think Guimel has told anyone what he saw?"
They stepped out into the hallway. Gatty and Dallet were standing near the door of Dilandau's room, chatting, but stopped when they noticed Folken and Marie.
"Hey, way to go, Lord Folken!"
"Yes."
Viole held up a sky blue shirt that laced in front and a midnight shirt with gauntlet sleeves and a V collar. Lord Dilandau made faces at them both, shaking his head and going back to searching his drawers for something to wear. "Lord Dilandau, come on. Both of these would look great on and they feel really comfortable."
They'd been at it for nearly an hour. Marie and Folken had come in earlier, checking Lord Dilandau over and declaring him fit enough for light daytime excursions within the palace grounds.
Everyone had been in the room then, with the exception of Shesta, who Marie had bragged was a great patient, and Miguel, who was probably submerged beneath mounds of colorful, perfumed bubbles, confirming that Lord Dilandau wasn't...in real danger just yet. There was still time, and they'd all rejoiced. The others soon left though, delegating the job of Lord Dilandau-sitting to Viole, once they'd discovered the mood Lord Dilandau was in.
Lord Dilandau, while being judged well enough to move about, was uncomfortable, and it was making him a bit... irritable.
"I don't want to wear either one of them."
He was also a little cross that they hadn't found his sister. It seemed, now that their leader was rational...mostly rational anyway... that he still spoke of the elusive Celena they'd found no trace of. Guimel had to eat his words and apologize to Gatty, who was past being angry and hadn't really cared either way when he received the apology. Viole wondered if Guimel had gone in and done the same for Shesta; he doubted it.
Guimel/Shesta piss wars could go on for weeks.
"Well, do you plan on going out in your underwear, Lord Dilandau? If we don't leave for breakfast now, all of the good food will be gone. Unless you want to just order room service?"
"I want to get out of here," Lord Dilandau groaned. "I don't care if we eat or not."
"Then, here," Viole tossed a black tunic at Lord Dilandau, smirking as it draped itself over his head. "Put that on; get dressed so we can go."
Lord Dilandau snatched the shirt off his head and laid it down where he knelt on the floor in front of his dresser, frowning at it. "It's cotton."
"So?"
"My pants are..."
"Here!" Viole tossed a pair of jet black breeches in his direction.
Viole stared at Lord Dilandau with desperate eyes as the other boy glared at the ensemble. Was he going to put it on or throw it away like he'd done the others? If he tossed it, Viole was going to scream.
Viole sighed in relief when Lord Dilandau began tugging the clothes on. Hissing when it came time to pull up the pants and the waistband grazed his tattoo. Viole came over to help then, placing a hand between the pants and Lord Dilandau's skin, so he could finish his tugging without the denim rubbing against his lower back. "We're going to have to get you some hip-huggers."
"Got some the other day with Van."
Viole raised a brow. "Did you now? Where are they? I never did get to see what you bought."
Lord Dilandau shrugged, rubbing at the sleeves of the shirt and scratching around the collar. "I don't know. Guess the people who took the bags put them all in Van's room or something."
Viole hummed, combing his fingers through Lord Dilandau's hair to free it of tangles and frowning as Lord Dilandau continued to scratch, the itch spreading to his belly and arms. "What's wrong."
"I itch."
"Geez...take that shirt off. Maybe it needs to be washed..."
"It's not the shirt," Lord Dilandau grumbled, his fingers ceasing their scratching motions, but Viole could tell by the way they curled and danced that they wanted to continue. "It's me. I itch, under the skin."
"Why didn't you tell Folken and Marie?"
"So they could make me stay here and inject me with more crap?– I don't think so." Lord Dilandau got down on his hands and knees, crawling to his bed and rummaging under it for one of his sketchbooks while Viole selected a pair of black ankle boots.
"You want to go out and draw after breakfast?" Viole asked, trading Lord Dilandau's boots for his sketchpad and flipping through its pages absently. He paused on the new drawings, smiling at the outlines of woman's face in one, then at the faraway study of the lean frame of a mother rocking a child on a porch swing in another. "Are these people you've seen around?"
Lord Dilandau was zipping his boots. He gazed at what Viole was looking at, frowning lightly and extending his hand for his drawings to be returned. "No."
Viole handed the sketchbook back, puzzled over Lord Dilandau's strange reaction. "You made them up?"
"No."
Lord Dilandau studied his own drawings, head tilting in contemplation. "Her eyes are wrong..."
"How about a dream?– are you still dreaming of people?"
The sketchbook snapped closed. "Yeah."
Viole didn't like the monosyllable answers he was receiving and decided to push a bit. "Are they people you know?"
Lord Dilandau's head bowed and Viole thought he wasn't going to be answered, when Lord Dilandau said, "Knew, maybe... Know might not be appropriate."
"What do you..."
"Viole, I want to get out of here."
"Ok, all right, we'll go. We have to drop by my room, so I can get my drawing stuff too. I have to show you the study I did of Helena anyway."
"Fine."
"We'll have to run, or Schezar will get all the fruit. He's taken to hoarding it as of late."
Viole watched Lord Dilandau silently trailing after him out of the corner of his eye with a worried expression that he didn't dare let the other boy see. Something else was going on with him now, and it had something to do with those new drawings or rather, what had inspired those drawings.
Lord Dilandau waited outside his room for him to grab his art supplies that he kept on his dresser, and a few candies– Helena always sent the best stuff. "Lets go."
Viole eyed the plain binding of the brown art book Lord Dilandau had tucked firmly under his arm.
One problem at a time, Viole. One problem at a time.
For some reason, the servants had brought all of Dilandau's things to Van's room, and he'd spent his evening and the better part of the morning stroking the fabric of one of the shirts he'd bought for him. He'd sighed, letting the silk slide against the skin of his arm. That was exactly how it had felt when Dilandau accidentally brushed against him, every time he turned to speak. Gods... it was how his hair had felt against the hollow of Van's neck, when he'd collapsed in Van's arms.
He trusted me to hold onto him.
Van wished he was taller, stronger, then he could have been the one to carry Dilandau down from his guymelef and bring him to the Crusade. Van wouldn't have been like Allen, just letting Dilandau go and giving him over to the Slayers. He would have held on to him.
Gatty had taken Dilandau and they had turned away, Kio leading them to Allen's quarters in the belly of the Crusade without even asking Allen's permission to use the room. The last time Van had been allowed to see Dilandau was when they'd arrived back at the palace, and then Folken was running away with him.
The Slayers had followed, leaving Van alone with his thoughts, and Allen, who was in a foul mood for some reason. He didn't seem very interested in listening to Van and had bowed out of the castle to go home. He hadn't even asked if Van wanted to come. Maybe Van needed to get away as much as Allen felt he had.
But what did Allen have to get away from pray tell?– besides Hitomi, who had done a wonderful job of disappearing. Merle had reluctantly gone to look for her. Van still owed the girl a chat, but he didn't feel he had the strength for it right then.
An hour after Allen's departure, the Slayers, sans Miguel, left the castle as well, going on a mission they wouldn't talk about. Van had gone to the Slayer hallway, thinking that with the other Slayers gone that maybe... well maybe, Miguel would need help with Dilandau. The red-haired dragon lady had sent him on his way, informing him that he was being an "annoying little shit," and Dilandau was asleep.
The answer had been the same for the rest of the night as he drifted down toward Dilandau's room hourly and was sent away each time. He hadn't even bothered to check this morning, not wanting to deal with Dragon Lady or weary-eyed Slayers from battle.
The only thing left for him to do, really, was reflect.
His mind kept replaying images of Dilandau smiling at him, laughing with him, lost in his art as he transformed Van's torso into a beautiful garden. Then– he shut his eyes tight– he saw Dilandau stumbling out of his Oreades and into Van's arms. He felt his dead weight as Dilandau's body went slack against Van's...
Don't let me fall.
Why hadn't he woken up? Even Allen had frowned at not being able to rouse Dilandau after a few minutes. It wasn't normal, and Folken– his face– had looked terrified. Van had never seen that kind of expression on his brother before. Something was terribly wrong with Dilandau, but no one would tell him what, and now they wouldn't let Van even see him.
What was so bad that Van couldn't be allowed in?
There was a soft knock at his door before it slid open to admit Merle. "She's back, Lord Van."
"Who's back?" Van asked listlessly. He rested his face in the tunic, wishing it smelled like him. Gods, he was hopeless. He made himself sick. On second thought, he did know exactly what Allen had to get away from. Lovesick teenagers were disgusting.
"Hitomi!" Merle groaned. Van felt a slight depression on the bed as she crawled onto it. "She just reappeared like magic– what are you doing? That's not his is it?"
"Eh..." Van gave a contemptuous snort at himself and balled up the shirt, tossing it toward one of the multiple bags beside his dresser as Merle laughed at him.
"You are pitiful, milord," Merle teased.
"I know I am; you don't have to rub it in," Van moaned piteously. "Gods Merle, what is wrong with me? I'm acting like...oh no, oh no... I'm acting like Hitomi was when she was mooning over Allen. No wonder why they all hate me!"
"Why who hates you?" Merle's tone was one his nannies used with him when he was a small child, but for some reason Van didn't take offense to it.
"The Dragonslayers and their doctor and maybe even Dilandau. They won't tell me anything and they all left without saying anything and Guimel came back alone and didn't bother to come tell me. I feel... I want..."
"Attention?" Merle batted her lashes at him slyly and Van bristled.
"What? Attention? No way, I just want them..."
"To stop what they're doing and cater to what you want, milord," Merle said for him. Van pouted and sighed when he felt Merle's tiny hand on his knee. "Van, though you are modest, you are still a monarch and it shows in your manner. I've been watching your new friends too. They are being overworked and they're scared about something. They're not ignoring you; they're busy. You remember when we were little and we used to watch the soldiers going off to fight? Remember how you tried to get Balgus' attention and he brushed you aside and you cried? He wasn't ignoring you, Lord Van; he didn't see you. His mind was somewhere else. When he came back, we approached him and he didn't even realize that you had spoken to him before he left."
Van's pout metamorphosed into a frown as he recalled the event and the stinging hurt of being rejected by his beloved teacher. Balgus had moved past him like he was little more than a bug on the floor. Van couldn't remember what he had wanted, he was sure it wasn't important, but it had been at that time.
Was he really behaving the same way now, as Merle was claiming he was?
"But... Merle, if the last time you saw me, I was... well my condition was questionable, wouldn't you want to see me just to make sure I was still alive?"
Merle tickled him and he bit his lip on the giggle that wanted to escape. "Of course I would... but as you told me before, I'm family. Family has a right. As much as you care for him, Van, he's not family to you."
Not family to me.
But what if I want him to be?
"Then ask for his hand," Merle said snidely, reading his mind. "But how can you, if you're still too much of a coward to even ask him out properly?"
"Merle!"
"Lord Van!"
He and Merle eyed each other for a long time, before Merle slid off his bed, scratching the back of her neck and giving him a quick grin. "There's nothing wrong with being in love, Lord Van. But he's not family to you, until he knows that."
She knows I'm in love?
I knew she knew I liked him, but she could guess about the "love" part too?
"Sir Allen's back too, Lord Van. He came back sometime last night, but gave these rude orders not to be disturbed, so I didn't tell you. When I saw him last, he was in the hangar near the Crusade."
I'm too obvious.
"Thanks Merle."
"Yeah, yeah. What would you do without me?"
Allen was not in the mood to deal with the antics of his men that morning and had chosen not to go to breakfast with them. He would order room service and subject himself to the adoration of the serving girl who always insisted on delivering to his room. Anything but be forced to sit in a room full of laughing, smiling people, acting like they had no problems in the world.
Some people, people directly involved in the war, could act like there was nothing going on at all, and Allen envied them.
He sat down on his made bed and stared out of the large window before him, giving him a delightful view of the palace walls. Some boys were out working with swords, poking at each other and laughing amidst armed soldiers spread across the courtyard smoking pipes and bragging about their battle scars.
This was where Allen should put his mind, into battle. He could find one of the practice rooms and work until he was perfect, until... until the last battle was the only thing he could think of.
He shut his eyes, lying back on his bed and resting his hands over his stomach as the sound of a laughing child flooded his senses.
"Shut up, Len! We ain't listening to you, never! Think you're so big, think you're so good, just you wait!– wait til I get big! I'm gonna crush you, Len! Just you wait!"
Allen saw the mocking child with the face of an angel, framed by a mop of messy golden curls. She stood with her legs apart, hands on her hips, big blue eyes narrowed into mean slits.
"I gotta secret! I gotta a secret I ain't telling nobody– not even him– and you'll see! You be a knight and I'll be better! I ain't working for no king. Nobody won't ever tell me what to do!"
Shut up, Celena. Allen had hissed at her. He'd torn a branch down from one of the trees in the garden, fashioned it into a switch, and spanked her good. He held her by the arm, his grasp tight as he swatted at her little bottom, hard.
She had to learn. Someone had to teach her not to say such thing to adults, though Allen had only been a few weeks shy of 16 at the time. Mother had flown from the house at the high pitch wail of Celena's cries, snatching Celena away from Allen and glaring at him like the devil incarnate. She'd hugged Celena to her breasts, and the girl child had struggled until Mother yelped in pain and let her drop.
Celena had run off, out of the garden and down the path to the family plot.
She had liked to go past the old graves into the woods and play. She knew the way home and always returned before dark, but that time she hadn't.
The sun had set and both Allen and Mother had gone out to look for her. They had even gone to the next house and asked for Mr. Calloway's help, he had hunting hounds.
Nothing. They had found no trace of her...
Until yesterday morning, when Celena had come home on her own, just after dark, 10 years late.
"I'm gonna crush you, Len! Just you wait!"
She hadn't lied.
Allen's hands moved from his stomach to cover his eyes.
Valeska– Celena– was a monster, a worse monster than Dilandau had been. But according to Folken, Dilandau had only been a monster when he was under her influence. How many times had he met with a Dilandau that had Celena behind his eyes? Had she recognized him? Valeska hadn't recognized him, but Dilandau hadn't seemed as if he recognized him either.
What kind of Celena had resided inside their minds? Was she asleep somewhere inside them, or was she watching, kept a prisoner in her own altered body?
Allen felt the beginning of another migraine as the thoughts ran through his head. Did this mean he believed Folken's crazy tales? Did he believe his sister had been involved in experiments that made her someone else?
He had to; he had seen it with his own eyes.
But could he believe that the spawn of one of those experiments was Dilandau?
Maybe.
But Folken, Folken wanted him to think it was more than that. Folken wanted him to believe Dilandau wasn't a twisted piece of Zaibach sin, but something that belonged to him. He wanted him to place Dilandau's name and face on the poor baby Mother had lost 15 years ago.
Allen couldn't do it.
He wouldn't.
It was lunacy, and Allen wasn't crazy. At least, he hoped he wasn't. He couldn't be, for someone needed to be sane for his family– for Celena, who he was going to retrieve at all cost.
He would spank the nonsense out of her like he had back when she was a child, and this time no one would snatch her away to coddle her. Then he would take her away, far away, and they would start over.
"Allen?"
Allen sat up in bed at the sound of Hitomi's voice through his door. She was back? Last time he'd thought about her, she had disappeared from the castle. He rose slowly, smoothing his hair and going to open the door.
The shorthaired girl stood in her short skirt and laced shoes that only reached her ankles that she called sneakers and high socks, staring up at him hesitantly. Her green eyes looked nervous as usual, and she crossed her hands behind her back. "I'm back," she said simply.
"You're back." Allen nodded.
"I went home, but I... I thought you might need me here. Maybe there are some other things I can do for you, besides visions."
Allen frowned at her stuttering. "Hitomi, you were safe at home. Why come back to this place in the midst of war?"
"Because..." Hitomi licked her thin lips and ran a hand through her hair. "Because I left without saying anything. Allen, you and I... we had something. I say 'had' because I feel it's not there anymore, if it ever was."
Allen's brows rose. Was she...? "You came back here to break up with me?"
Hitomi's cheeks flushed and she lowered her head as she nodded. "You're not attracted to me, Allen, and I don't know that you ever were. I was... I was a distraction for you."
A distraction?– a distraction from what? He was being dumped! All earlier turmoil evaporated as his mind was thrown into a deadly tailspin. "Hitomi, you've confused my feelings for you. While I admit what was once there isn't anymore, I did like you. I still like you very much."
"I know, Allen. I still like you, but I must admit my feelings for you were... shallow." Hitomi dug her toe into the carpet. "You're so handsome, and you remind of someone back home I have a crush on, and... and... someone else– someone else that has been ignoring me that I'd..."
Someone else?– Now she was saying Allen was some sort of decoy to make another man jealous? He was sure his teeth would be ground into fine powder at the end of this conversation as hard as he was gritting them.
"You see... Maybe you noticed, but Van..."
"Van!"
Allen almost laughed! Van! The only thing Van was interested in was silver-haired science projects from Zaibach. He wondered what Van would think if he told him what Dilandau actually was.
Damn... He would have to tell him, wouldn't he?
Unless Dilandau hurried up and died before Van could get any further with him. Folken had said he was dying, hadn't he?
Some parts of the conversation had gone hazy, rage had dimmed some of his comprehension.
"Yes Van!" Hitomi's soft, humble tone had been soured with acid. "What? Don't think he could like me? Or better yet, you don't see how anyone could choose him over you! Well, let me tell you something Mr. Knight of Heaven: not everyone is into the handsome playboy type; certainly not me! Van has something you will never have– sincerity! So you and your illegitimate children can go somewhere and live happy lives without me!"
With that, Hitomi turned on her heel and stalked away.
Van, beware.
Allen stood dumbfounded in his doorway. What the hell had just happened here As if he didn't have enough on his mind, now he was being dumped by teenagers for gay men, who asked his advice on how to woo freaks of nature...
His life had gone to the dogs.
He glared at the maids in the hallway, pretending not to be watching him and they scuttled away, giggling.
What more could possibly happen to him now?
"Allen, Merle told me you were back. Can I... talk to you?– over breakfast, maybe?"
Allen groaned, slumping against his doorframe as Van Fanel came jogging to his door, his face a mask of teenage angst.
He had to ask.
"Merle says I'm being selfish, and that I need to respect the other guys. I came into the picture much later; I'm not a part of their chain yet. But, I know I wanna be, but if I keep pushing I might alienate myself even further, because I'm getting on their nerves."
Allen wished he had something to stuff in his ears, as if that would help. The noise in his head was just as loud as Van's voice. Dumped, tortured, and plotting a rescue... a rescue where he didn't know where to start, who he was after, or what to do.
"Van, can we just get our food and go back to your room or mine. I don't really want to sit in the café with so many people. I have a headache."
"A headache? You do look a bit pale, Allen. Did you not get enough rest at home? Did something happen?"
Was Van actually looking beyond his own nose for a moment? From what Allen had heard and had time to think about, Merle had a point.
"Yes, something happened, Van, but it's my problem to worry about. You've got too many of your own," Allen said with a sigh, placing a hand on Van's shoulder. He grimaced at the dull roar of voices coming from the soldiers' cafeteria.
Van flashed him a frown of concern. "Allen, we can order room service. I didn't know; you didn't tell me you weren't..." He pushed open the door and paused, eyes landing on something that intrigued him. "My gods... it's him. Allen, it's Dilandau! He's here– and all by himself!"
Allen was dragged along after Van as he rushed into the room. Grunts of greetings sprang from every direction and Allen waved a hand in a general direction to acknowledge them. Gods... did this mean Van had forgotten all about his request to get the food and leave?
Would he really have to sit in here... with Dilandau?
"Dilandau!" They approached and Dilandau turned halfway in his seat to offer them glances. He looked tired, but his strange eyes lit up a bit at the sight of Van. Allen bet Van hadn't noticed.
He failed to pick up on subtle clues.
"Are you all right? I would have come to see you, but nobody would let me. Did you sleep all night?"
Dilandau blinked, eyes cutting to Allen for a moment and moving back to Van. "Yes, I slept all night."
"Well, I guess you really didn't miss me then. Can we join you? Here Allen, you can sit on the other side of me. You're here all by yourself?"
Dilandau shook his head and nodded to the buffet where the jester Slayer, Viole, was filling two plates with food. "He's determined to stuff me like a pig."
Van chuckled at Dilandau's petulant tone and Allen frowned. "Well, if he brings you something good, I'll help you eat it; how about that?"
"No." Viole set two plates down on the table, one in front of Dilandau and one in front of the seat he was about to take. "Lord Dilandau's going to eat his food himself."
Allen stood on the other side of Van, readying his excuse to leave. Van had what he wanted now, and Allen had no desire to be near Zaibach's project and his lackey. His eyes fell upon what Viole had served Dilandau. There were no meats, or potatoes, or eggs, just fruits, nuts, breads and jams. Allen had noted a while ago that Dilandau was a vegetarian, which had surprised him a bit as he'd wanted to believe Dilandau gobbled red meat and let the blood dribble down his chin as he licked his fingers.
"Viole," Dilandau sounded bothered. "I don't want that."
"Why not? It's everything you like," Viole talked around a mouthful of eggs he'd shoveled into his mouth.
"I just don't."
Viole eyed the plate. "Oh come on, look at how I arranged everything. Nothing's touching; the bread's dry and the fruit is jam-less. I did better than Shesta; he always gets jam on the bananas."
"Do you want something else? I'm about to get up and get my own breakfast. Tell me what you want," Van offered and Allen almost smacked his forehead and groaned. He was trying too hard.
Viole made a face at Van. "Geez, Van, lay off it. You're making me sick, here. What do you want, Lord Dilandau? I'll get it."
Van blushed fuchsia and Allen rolled his eyes. He would have tried to excuse himself long ago, but Van was digging himself into a pit and leaving with the knowledge of that would eat away at his conscious for days.
"Allen and I were getting up and going that way; that's all, Viole! If you... well, I don't know what you were thinking... but I..."
"Van!" Allen interjected, holding up a hand. "Let them do what they want and lets get our breakfast. I'd like to eat this year." – and get the hell out of here as soon as I've done that.
Van glared and Allen grabbed his arm, dragging him up from the seat he'd taken beside Dilandau. "Come on, Van."
Allen wasn't picky about his meal that morning, choosing porridge and mentally cursing over the lack of strawberries. Dilandau's plate– that he didn't want!– was loaded with them. He selected honey instead, honey and cream... and a handful of almonds. Allen glanced behind him, sighing and turning to stop Van from filling his plate with things Allen had never seen him eat in the time that he'd known him. "Do not fix your plate to cater to Dilandau's wants. He's got what he needs at the table and he'll eat it, when he gets hungry enough."
Allen pressed the light smile out of his lips. Mother always said that to him when Celena was being especially difficult at mealtimes– not that he'd ever tried to cater to Celena. That feat was impossible and unwise. Once the child realized that she could get exactly what she wanted by sulking or throwing a tantrum, life with her had been hell.
"I'm not! I like bread and butter!"
"You don't like apricots and oats."
Van huffed, dumping the items he wasn't picking with himself in mind off his plate, glaring at Allen all the while. Hearty helpings of potatoes and beans filled their slots, but no meat.
Allen served himself a double helping of bacon, planning on sliding some on Van's plate. The boy king already looked enough like a scarecrow; he couldn't afford to lose any weight by taking on the vegan diet Dilandau was on.
Folken was crazy for allowing it. For someone his height, Dilandau had been too light a weight in Allen's arms.
Gah.
There he went thinking of Dilandau as a person again. Things like him didn't deserve such sentiment. Allen's initial opinion of him had been right, and he never should have made the mistake of reforming it for the sake of Van, for the sakes of his men, for... the sake of Astoria.
For the sake of Astoria.
Astoria still needed Dilandau and his Dragonslayers, and Allen had to be able to work with him. The tentative friendship they'd struck up was beneficial, and Allen couldn't forget that the boy had saved his life– twice. Although, Allen could counter that with the fact that Dilandau had tried to kill him on more occasions than that. But that was all in the past Allen had promised to forget– a past that had so much to do with the past he didn't want to remember.
They sat back down, Allen going about stirring his porridge together in an orderly fashion: honey first, then a few drops of cream– he needed something to soften the mixture, but he didn't want to taste dairy– and lastly he folded in the almonds.
"... you just don't want to eat! There's nothing wrong with any of this stuff. You want Marie to throttle me, don't you? She threatened me, you know? Took me aside and did that thing where she talks out of the side of her mouth."
Dilandau stared at Viole, unamused and unmoved, lashes dusting his cheeks as he blinked. He folded his arms over his chest and tapped long fingers on his elbows impatiently.
Van had started eating, watching the exchange with interest. He looked at Allen, as if asking permission to add something to Viole's diatribe. Allen breathed through his nose. He was sitting at the children's table by choice.
"Viole, maybe he's not hungry. Dilandau, you don't have to eat anything right now. We can have brunch or something later..."
"Oh, get your head out of his ass!" Viole snapped and Allen's eyes widened at the tone the jester was using. He was honestly upset, something Allen had never seen from him before. Van was obviously stunned too, because he shut up a moment. Wandering eyes questing for entertainment found a show in Van and Viole's bickering.
"Hey, ten bills says Viole decks the King."
"Naw, naw, ten bills says the King decks Viole."
"Hell, twenty bills says Silver Boss decks the both of them! Look at his face!"
Allen looked. Dilandau didn't seem to be focusing on either one of the two people fighting over him, but on his plate. He'd picked up the fork Viole had set down in front of him before and was stabbing at the fruit on his plate, mangling all of those precious strawberries.
Allen hated watching people play with their food. He'd seen Celena do it enough to label it a disgustingly bad habit. Without thinking, he reached past Van, snagging Dilandau's plate away from him and dropping it beside his bowl of porridge. Dilandau's half lidded eyes went wide as he turned in his chair to stare at Allen. Allen supposed he was too surprised to be angry yet, only curious to see how Allen would explain himself. Just as quickly as Allen had taken the plate from Dilandau, he'd replaced it with his own prepared bowl of porridge.
Why he did that, he didn't know. In Van's long list of the 'Likes and Dislikes' of Dilandau Albatou, Van had never mentioned porridge on either list– not that Allen would remember if he had.
Van and Viole had stopped talking and both were gawking at Allen as if he'd lost his mind.
"My gods, Schezar, you stingy bastard! All you have to do is go and ask the serving girls for more damn strawberries; you don't have to go around taking other people's food!" Viole exploded.
"Yeah, you jerk!– and try to make it better by giving him your nasty porridge..."
"Thirty bills says Boss is gonna get decked by the king and Viole!"
"Hell, I still say Silver Boss is gonna chuck em' all out! Forty bills!"
"He's eating."
Viole and Van shut up at the sound of a spoon scrapping against the side of a bowl. "That wasn't a bet, Gaddes!"
Allen bit into a strawberry, noting how sweet it was with relish and rejoicing at finding something to enjoy that morning.
"Well..." Viole said lightly, seeming pleased if not a bit disturbed. "I don't think I've ever seen you so enthused to eat porridge."
Dilandau said nothing and Viole shook his head, ruffling Dilandau's hair, and looking down the table at Allen. "What did you put in it?"
Van was attentive as well.
"Honey, cream and nuts," was Allen's simple answer as he polished off the strawberries and starting spreading jam over the bread.
"He doesn't like cream."
"Just a bit." Allen bit into the bread. Apricot jam... when had the cooks started making this? Allen hadn't had any since he was a kid.
Viole hummed and went back to his meal as did Van. Allen had finished the bread and was cutting into a pear and dipping it in the remaining apricot jam. He frowned, narrowing his eyes at Dilandau curiously, watching the boy as he carefully contemplated each bite he took. He didn't just dip his spoon in the bowl and scoop out portions of food, no. Dilandau worked his way around the porridge, scraping a little from one side, then the other, diving deep for bits of almonds and flecks of honey, while managing to keep the mess a shallow mound on his spoon before lifting it to his lips.
Allen was surprised at the mild irritation that confronted Dilandau's actions. He was eating as if he didn't want it– like Celena had when someone had just happened to stumble upon something that didn't offend her delicate taste buds.
Stop comparing him to her!
But he couldn't... something about watching the way Dilandau ate had triggered the very switch Folken had been trying to pull the other night.
There was something there, something so achingly familiar, Allen wanted to seize it and hold it captive until he knew exactly what it was. It wasn't just that if Allen closed his eyes, he could imagine his sister sitting there being bratty as ever and irritating the living daylights out of him, but something else.
Something that did deserve his attention.
Dilandau uncovered a lump in the porridge, a swell of cream and honey that had somehow clotted together. He pushed the imperfection off to the side then, scowling at the whole mess, put his spoon down with only half the bowl empty.
Allen felt a familiar pang again, and suddenly he wanted to try something. "Add a little jam to it, Dilandau; how about some of the apricot I have?"
Van made a face and Viole lifted a brow.
Dilandau frowned at Allen. "That sounds disgusting."
"Have you tried it?"
"No, because it sounds disgusting."
Allen quelled a surge of annoyance within him and smiled. "It's not. My... mother liked her porridge like that, spoiled with honey, cream, nuts, and jam."
"I don't like cream."
"You were eating it."
Dilandau was growing impatient with him; the corners of his mouth were turning downward in distaste. "Sounds like your mother doesn't like porridge much with all the things she has to put in it."
Allen thought about that. It really didn't make much sense for a body to have to alter a dish they liked so much. Could it even be considered the same food after all of the editions? It didn't taste the same.
"Well, I never thought of it that way. Perhaps she didn't like porridge. Perhaps I don't like porridge, but that would mean you don't either."
"I don't."
"You just ate half a bowl," Van was confused at the conversation and he gave Allen a searching look to try to gauge where Allen was going with this topic.
"So what? I liked it then; I don't like it now. What's the difference anyway? Can we go now, Viole?"
So fickle, but Allen now truly wondered if Dilandau would have eaten more of the porridge if he'd put a spoonful of jam in it. Allen didn't care for it, but his mother and Celena, in the right mood, would eat it up like a great delicacy.
How do I explain the similarities? Folken would want me to attribute them to Dilandau being a part of Celena, a part of Allen's family... but how could he prove it? What if all Dilandau had done was stolen pieces of Celena's personality?
That was certainly much easier to believe.
It was– in fact– better to believe, so... maybe Allen's mission was to find out just how much of Celena Dilandau had stolen and figure out if there was a way to put it back. Maybe Dilandau's being was why Celena couldn't remember Allen properly.
No good little thief.
"Allen? Allen!" Allen flinched and glared at Van who had punched him in the shoulder. "I'm going with Viole and Dilandau. I... look, thanks for wanting to listen to me this morning, but I can take it from here."
Allen blinked, realizing he'd lost time while he was thinking. Dilandau and Viole had risen, and were discussing what area of the courtyard would be best to go to catch the best light.
Van was dusting himself, preparing to follow and volunteering to be Dilandau's subject.
"You are good at holding still."
Allen's stomach churned.
"Have fun."
Van didn't hear him. He was jogging after Viole and Dilandau, trying to nod along with the conversation flowing between the two Dragonslayers.
"Ten bills says Boss..."
"Knock it off!" Allen snapped.
"Geez."
Puce is an actual color, Shesta marveled, and Miss Agatha Finch is wearing it to the debutante ball with white diamonds and lace.
How much more wonderfully dreadful could this book get?
Ah... Prince Carmine, wrapped in teal and scarlet and draped with emeralds takes notice of Miss Agatha and falls head over heels.
Well... the book was closed with a hollow thud... that's enough of that. There was only so much puce and teal Shesta could take.
He scowled at the sorry selection of literature sitting on his bedside table, wondering if someone hadn't robbed Princess Millerna's private library for his sake. If they did– they shouldn't have.
They really shouldn't have.
On the other hand, Shesta wasn't being fair. After all, what evidence at all did he have that proved Princess Millerna could enjoy crap like this?
But if the books weren't hers, then whose?
Shesta grinned at the idea that they may be Dryden's... or better yet, Allen Schezar's! Did Schezar imagine himself to be Prince Carmine? Oh gods... visions of Schezar in a teal suit, tightly fitted with emeralds on the breast plate– oh, the scarlet cape and boots!– can't forget those!
Shesta nearly fell out of bed, chuckling. He'd even given Schezar one of those phony pencilled in moustaches.
He'd amused himself so well, he hadn't heard the door open, nor took any notice of the body standing in the doorway, watching him.
"Ahem."
Shesta jumped, finally taking the tumble out of bed onto the carpeted floor. He put out his hands to cushion his landing, but he still ended up with a mouthful of fluffy carpet.
Shesta righted himself, spitting tufts of fuzz out of his mouth as Guimel snickered.
"I was sent to entertain you, but you look like you're doing a good enough job of that yourself," Fluff-head said lightly, giving a soft smile.
Shesta raised a brow, hoping he appeared somewhat dignified... in his undershirt and shorts, sprawled on the floor, covered in carpet lint. Who was he fooling? Guimel would laugh about this one for weeks.
"Uh... I've got lunch for you too," Guimel offered weakly, and Shesta then noticed the wooden tray Guimel held with a small silver cover over the entree. Shesta squinted; was it just him or did Guimel seem nervous?
"Put it on the dresser."
Guimel nodded, crossing the floor carefully and setting the tray on Shesta's wooden vanity. He was slow to turn and face Shesta again, but when he did, his face was odd... guilty almost.
"Guimel?"
"Hm?"
"Are you here to apologize for being an ass the other day?"
Guimel blinked, and Shesta grinned as he practically watched every retort Guimel wanted to snap run over his face. Here it comes...
"Maybe."
If Shesta wasn't on the floor already, he would have been there now. "What?"
Guimel rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated with Shesta. "Is it really that hard for you to believe– gods, get off the floor. I can't talk to you seriously like that."
Shesta honestly didn't know if he could get off the floor, he was that stunned– and starting to feel a bit woozy. Hah, he'd fallen head over heels for Guimel in the fashion of Prince Carmine and Allen Schezar in teal and scarlet.
"Here..." Guimel moved in front of Shesta and leaned over, grabbing him under the arms and depositing him back on the bed.
The colors of the room meshed together for moment before sorting themselves back out, and Shesta gripped his bed sheets, afraid he was going to take another tumble.
"Hey, you're not gonna puke are you?"
"Depends," Shesta murmured. "Do you really like that shirt you're wearing?"
"Actually, no."
"Good, because it's really ugly."
Guimel snorted, self-conscious hands running over his tunic. Serious sky blue eyes met Shesta's. "Shes, I'm sorry for being an ass yesterday."
Shesta was tucking his blankets around his legs. "Are you?"
Guimel said he was sorry for a lot of things, but that didn't mean he actually was. Apologizes were easy to make; harder to be genuine.
Guimel and 'genuine' started with the same letter, but that was about all the two had in common. Shesta kneaded his fingers together in his lap and leaned forward, staring at Guimel who scowled at him, blond brows drawing close together.
"Shesta, do we really have to play games?" Guimel groaned. "Gatty's not mad at me, so I don't see why..."
"Who said I was mad?" Shesta asked, batting his lashes innocently.
"Dally said you were pissed last night."
"That was last night. I felt like hell and you weren't helping matters. I feel much better today and you... are sorry."
"Yeah, I am..." for coming in here, Guimel probably wanted to add. Shesta understood his frustration, because he'd felt it before– last night when Guimel had turned his back on the team.
"I don't feel like I can count on you anymore, Guimel," Shesta said bluntly, stretching his covered legs out in front of him and flexing his feet. "Like, if I were to ask you to do something too hard, you'd give up."
Guimel rolled his eyes, grumbling a curse and writing himself an invitation to sit on Shesta's bed. He accidentally sat on Shesta's knee, and he jumped, giving the knee time to clear the way. "You didn't ask me to do something hard; you asked me to do something that I didn't see a point in. It was a waste of our time. You didn't find anything after I left, so what is there to hold in my face? I expressed an opinion."
Shesta pressed his lips together and reached behind him for a pillow to prop against the bedframe. He wanted to lean back on something soft. Guimel saw his action and stilled Shesta's arm, sliding off the bed to fluff and arrange Shesta's pillows behind his back. "I don't like your opinion."
"I know."
"It's going to hurt you."
"The only person I'm worried about getting hurt is in the courtyard with Viole and his not-so-secret admirer," Guimel said, reclaiming his seat on the bed.
"Viole has an admirer?" Shesta asked off-handedly, gazing out of the corner of his eye to revel in Guimel's irritated expression. He sighed after a moment, looking up at the plain white ceiling and trying to imagine he was elsewhere.
"Why Shesta? Why are you all so ready to believe that Lord Dilandau's going to die?"
Shesta cringed at Guimel's blatant usage of the word. Die, dying... both action verbs that could be used in the present and future tense in sentences where the subject was someone Shesta loved very much. How could Guimel just speak it as if it meant nothing, as if the word had no power, no meaning?
"Look at you," Guimel continued, voice bitter with scorn. "You can't even say it, can you?– yet, you're so ready to give into it."
"I'm ready to live in the real world, Guimel. I don't like it, but... I'm ready."
Shesta had come to terms. Crying in the light is the same as crying in the dark, only one's not alone in it.
"I have to be or else... I don't know. Been where you are, Guy, and I couldn't stay there. It was making me crazy. But... Well, I can't force you to join me in a place you're not prepared to be. So, I guess what I'm saying is I'm serious when I say I'm not mad at you, ok? It just really bothered me how you backed out on the team."
Guimel opened his mouth to speak, but Shesta raised a hand to silence him, "But I can't even stay angry about that, not now. Everything's going to shit and we're all right in the middle of it. I have no right to judge anyone. Gatty shrugged you off, I'm shrugging you off too. Got better things to worry about than being pissed off at you for something that won't matter in the long run."
"The long run?"
Shesta studied Guimel and the absence of scorn on his pale face. Where had those heavy bags under his eyes come from, and where was the confident smirk?
"The long run– what happens after all this. Someone besides the old people have to think of the future."
Guimel was quiet, picking at the fabric of Shesta's comforter and gazing at the wall behind him. "Did you bring enough food for two, or is that all for me?"
Guimel blinked, glancing at him dully. "Oh... it's all for you. I haven't been very hungry lately. Don't know what's wrong."
Shesta hummed lightly with soft concern. "Maybe you've caught my germs?"
"Nah, Marie says you're not too contagious, as long as you don't cough on anybody."
Shesta sighed in relief. Well, at least he wouldn't have to feel guilty about infecting the rest of his team. "Lord Dilandau's out with Viole and Van. How does he seem? Good?"
Guimel frowned. "Weird."
Shesta chuckled. "I know Gatty complained of him being cranky, but what makes you say weird?"
"I don't know; his eyes, I guess. They were... it was like he'd seen something, something wild and then it was gone. You know, like those dreams where you fall into a pot of gold and women, and just as you're about to stuff your pockets and cop a feel, you wake up and it hits you–wham!– it wasn't real. Maybe he woke up from one of those, but you wash your face in cold water and it's gone. It's not gone."
"You're worried?" Shesta asked, sitting up. "Think he's having nightmares?"
Guimel rubbed his chin. "I don't know."
"Don't know if you're worried or if he's having nightmares?"
"I don't know!"
Shesta blinked, wary of the anguished cast marring his friend's face. He'd gone too far with someone not fit for travel.
Guimel slid off the bed, standing briskly, dusting imaginary dust from his clothes for need of something to do with his twitching fingers. "Your food is still hot, but if you wait much longer it won't be. You hate cold soup. The sandwich is probably soggy now, but I only I hate soggy sandwiches... So anyway, you better eat it now. I... have to go help Dally with something. Feel better."
Shesta watched Guimel practically run from the room to be away from him. He hadn't closed the door all the way, and Shesta nearly jumped out of bed again, when Gatty stepped in, looking harassed. "What's Guimel so upset about?"
"I was an ass. What are you so upset about?"
"Miguel wants me to kill him. An ass?– how?" Gatty came to the side of the bed, brushing Shesta's bangs off his forehead and resting his hand there. "Much cooler. You didn't jump on him about last night, did you?"
Shesta shook his head, scooting over so Gatty could plop down beside him. He fluffed Shesta's pillow a bit more before reclining and tucking his arms behind his head. "What happened?"
"Same thing that always happens when jerks talk too much. You would think I'd have learned something by now, judging from that disaster with Lord Dilandau, but apparently not. I just couldn't leave it alone, Gatty."
Gatty frowned, staring at the ceiling. "Maybe because it's not time to leave it alone."
"Did you see his face?"
Gatty shook his head. "He went by too fast."
"I am such an ass."
"Man, you were so not lying when you said you couldn't draw," Viole squinted at the sheet of paper he'd torn out for Van, holding it away from his face then bringing it close. "Lord Dilandau, check it out. I think it's supposed to be you."
Dilandau watched Viole and Van's game of tug of war with mild interest.
"No! Don't look at it! I don't want anyone to see it!" Van was shouting as Viole cackled and leapt to his feet prancing out of the shade of the trees and dancing around the courtyard, waving the creamy sheet of scribbled on paper inches from Van before snatching it away. A handful of Dilandau's cadets and General Keller's soldiers dotted different areas of the space between the castle and its walls, staring at the odd couple. Viole and Van went down in a tangle of arms and legs as Van tried to strangle Viole with his bare hands and take back his horrific drawing. Dilandau hadn't seen it, but anything that could make someone react in that manner had to be bad.
He glanced at his own unfinished study in his lap. Dilandau had given up on trying to draw Van, and he felt a little guilty at seeing the disappointment on Van's face, but...his heart just wasn't in it.
Dilandau sighed softly, nails grazing the tender skin of his neck. The odd tickling sensation under his skin that had plagued him since he'd woken that morning was still there. What was the matter with him?
Last night... last night he'd spoken to Mother. He should have felt good, happy, but he didn't and he didn't know why. Every time Dilandau tried to recall the memory, to bring back Mother's face... his stomach did a flip. Something wasn't right, and somewhere inside he knew what it was.
He just had to think, to look... that was how he'd found Mother in the first place.
Another back flip. Dilandau pressed a free hand against his stomach, curious to see if he could feel its dance through his fingertips. He scratched at the skin there.
I want to have a good day, so stop it, he urged his body and his stomach did calm, but nothing soothed the itch... There was still that sense of something amiss.
Dilandau flipped to a fresh page in his sketchbook and stared at a clean sheet of paper. It wasn't long before his hand was moving over the page again. Lots of long clean strokes for the start of trees, some scribbles here and there to represent bushes... and here he was, back to the swing.
The swing and the distant figures perched on it, only this time he could identify the figures: Mother and Celena.
Scratch.
But– he turned to another blank page– he didn't want anymore pictures of Mother and Celena. He... he wanted pictures of Mother and Dilandau.
He repressed a grimace of discomfort and squeezed the pencil, the soft pads of his fingers throbbing from holding the drawing tool for so long.
Slowly, the soft shadows of a bedroom loomed beneath the graphite in his hands created by a small light at the bedside table where Mother sat, blankets slipping from her creamy shoulders as she held a child to her bosom. Details that had never been there before brought out a certain clarity in Mother's expression. She was telling a bedtime story and the child...the boy... he was listening, taking in her every word.
Scratch, scratch.
Something was there that was never apparent in the Mother-Celena pictures, an emotion was present... love. Celena's face, always clear, had such hard eyes, and Mother's he could never quite see.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
When he found Mother, found her in real life, not just dreams... When he found her like he was going to find Celena...
Dilandau almost gasped at the flash of pain through his middle...through his chest. Gods, what? What is it?
"Lord Dilandau, next time you want to paint on someone, use me. This is incredible. How did you mix these colors? Some of it almost looks like you used a pencil to get the fine lines."
Dilandau's shoulders tensed at the proximity of Viole's voice and he looked up to find his friend standing over him. His body was half turned as he gazed at something behind him. Van appeared beside Viole, the front of his shirt unlaced and opened to expose the artwork Dilandau had done, the garden.
He stared.
"Lord Dilandau?"
Someone was walking in the garden.
"Dilandau, are you all right?"
A tall boy and a little girl were arguing.
"Oh crap, I knew it was too hot out here. Marie's going to have me for lunch!"
"It's not too hot."
"For you! You're all nice and tan..."
Dilandau blinked, shaking his head and concentrating on Van's bare middle again. He hadn't painted anyone in the garden. There were no people.
"I'm fine."
Viole knelt down beside him, ignoring his statement and touching his face then his own to compare the two surfaces. "Hmm... You don't feel hot. I do though. Dammit, Van, you trying to give me sunstroke?"
"Me? You were the one running around like an idiot. Our students are laughing at us."
"They're laughing at you!"
Dilandau grinned weakly at their banter as they gazed at him occasionally to make sure he was still with them. Dilandau hated the way they catered to him like a toddler. He didn't need mothering...
He just needed...
The people in the garden returned, the little girl dancing, the older brother chasing after her with something in his hand... he grabbed her and struck her with the object over and over until another shape appeared.
Mother.
They were struggling, everyone was struggling and then... the girl was gone.
The garden was empty again.
What did it mean? What the hell did any of it mean?
Dilandau rose on shaky legs, careful to steady himself before Viole could notice his tremors. Something was wrong. Something was so wrong. His belly was in his throat, and impressive leap.
He fought to ignore it, struggling to push it back down.
I want to have a good day, so stop it!
But– the garden wasn't supposed to be empty, never empty. It was Mother's favorite place; she should be there.
But she wasn't.
Dilandau swallowed hard; he let his drawing book drop so his hands could span the areas on his body that most needed their attention, nails biting deep to combat the spreading itch.
What's the matter with me? It's a stupid painting. Mother isn't there, because I didn't put her there.
But I should have.
In the dreams, he'd always seen her there, and he painted his dreams... so why was it different. Why hadn't Dilandau included her?
Something's wrong. Something's wrong...
The wind rustled the roses, calling to Mother, but she didn't come.
She wished to see me.
I had to look for her inside myself.
Why couldn't she come for me in person? Why didn't she tell me how to get to her– tell me where the garden was?
Something's wrong. Something's...
"Lord Dilandau?"
Maybe...
"Dilandau?"
No. That wasn't it. It just wasn't because it wouldn't be fair to him...
"Maybe we should go. You're getting some sort of heat rash..."
"I'm fine."
But when was life ever fair to him? He'd been given a body, but at what price?
I wanted to have a good day...
Oh gods...
"Are you sure?"
Dilandau focused on Viole who was peering up at him from the ground.
"Yeah, yeah... I do... have to go to the bathroom though." Dilandau did his best to look a bit sheepish, hoping he wasn't overplaying it. He needed to be alone.
The more he thought about it, the sicker he felt; his stomach had started a rebellion against him.
Something was wrong and he knew what it was.
Oh gods...
"I'll be back in a bit."
I'm gonna be sick.
"Hold up, I'll come with ..."
"No, stay. Finish your sketch. Looks good, I'll be back. I'm a big boy; I can wipe my ass by myself, you know?"
Frustration masked fear, fear masked grief, grief was accompanied by nausea. He swallowed hard again. "I'll be back."
He turned slowly and strode purposefully out of the shaded path they'd chosen to sit on toward the white stone walls of the castle. He didn't wave at the cadets that shouted or nod to the soldiers that smiled.
Dilandau flinched at the gust of cool air that greeted him upon crossing the palace's threshold, vision going double as he moved past the noisy hangar. A single voice was raised, but Dilandau couldn't care enough to figure out if it was in song or rant.
There was small washroom a few doors down from the hangar. Dilandau just needed to go somewhere, a place where the lights could be turned off and the door could be closed and locked without inquiring knocks.
A tall man was exiting the small room, wiping damp hands on his breeches. "Heya, Silver Boss. Nice day out, huh?"
Dilandau said nothing, pushing past the man into the washroom and slamming the door, letting out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
Oh gods...
He sank to the floor as his legs gave out.
Mother wasn't in the garden. What could keep her out of the garden?
He pulled himself the short distance across the cold stone floor to the small commode, hauling himself up so that he could rest his face against the bowl. So smooth and cool...
Had her hands ever felt like that, smooth and cool against a fevered brow?
Did he know?– would he ever know?
She wasn't there.
She couldn't be if she was with him, in him... kissing him...
Goodbye.
Soft warm lips on his forehead, bidding him farewell.
That's what's wrong.
Gods...
Porridge and orange juice found a new home along with his tears as he cried. It was all wrong and none of it was fair.
Mother hadn't told him; she didn't need to...
She died for wanting him to live, and soon he was going to die for wanting the same thing.
That's what's wrong.
Someone was knocking, but he'd be damned before he opened the door for Her. Lady Death would have to break it down.
But Dilandau hadn't locked the door, and the world spun away from him as it swung open.
Author's Note: You all know what I'm going to say now, right? What's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Let me know! Please review!