Author's Note: All right, so this update wasn't quite within the month lol, but it wasn't as late as last time's. Sigh, I know, I know... I will do better. Ok, so you probably knew I was going to say this, but I'm not sure if the chapter to come will be last chapter. I didn't quite get to the scenes I wanted to in this one, due to excessive chapter length. I think this might be second to the second to the last chapter lol. I promise not to drag it out for much longer! Thank you for keeping up with me!
Oh and good news! I got into graduate school. Come this summer I will be an MFA candidate at the University of South Maine :).
Sorry just had to share that. I've shared it with everyone else ;)
Big thanks to Cat and Katy who read over this for me before I put it up for you guys to slaughter. Enjoy... I hope :).
Chapter 29
The sun was rising when Dallet pulled Guimel away from the bar. His soft brown boots crunched over discarded peanut shells as he waved goodbye to Milly and Dorothy, the only two people in the tavern that were awake aside from himself and now Guimel, or at least half of Guimel anyway.
Carefully stepping over the prone bodies of soldiers satiated with too much ale, toppled chairs, fallen mugs, playing cards, dice, and– what the hell was that?– Dallet dragged Guimel outside to face the morning sun.
Ai... she was bright this morning.
He shielded his eyes with the arm he wasn't using to keep Guimel upright and felt his companion stumble into his side, his curly hair tickling his neck. Guimel's arms snaked around his waist and he felt something warm and wet on his ear...
Gah!
He shoved Guimel away and watched his drunk best friend stumble backward and fall on his butt, staring up at him blankly. He rubbed his eyes, pouting and looking momentarily like a lost cherub.
Dallet snorted, Guimel and cherub did not belong in the same sentence together, unless the sentence said something along the lines of Guimel screwing a cherub.
But cherubs didn't have sex. At least, Dallet didn't think they did. Weren't they supposed to be...
"What the hell Dallet!"
"Not now, Guy. I'm thinking."
The market place was alive around them, people bustling about, mostly shop keepers setting up for morning customers. Robust shipping men grunted, carrying large burlap sacks and crates full of goods to stock shelves and carts. A perfect contrast to the sleepy tavern populated by soldiers and barmaids who'd been up drinking, gambling, and dancing to stomping feet and bad singing just before the sun rose.
Miss Rhonda called a greeting to Dallet and Guimel as she opened the doors to her bakery, letting the smells of freshly baked bread and pastries waft through the air to attract prospect customers.
Hell... Dallet patted his empty pockets sadly. Looked like there would be no special, raisin sweet rolls for him this morning. The guys had cleaned him out last night in that last game of poker.
Guy had won a lot... but he was saving up. Dallet couldn't take his money.
"Oh..." Guimel was moaning as he struggled to his feet, punching Dallet for making him fall weakly. "What did I drink?"
Dallet eyed his disheveled friend, noting his bleary red eyes and pale complexion in wry amusement. "Everything you could get your hands on, but... I made sure you stopped before you poisoned yourself."
Guimel sneered and ran both hands through his unruly hair, trying to give it and maybe his thoughts some order. He gazed around, looking up at the brightening sky and the hubbub of the market. "Ah shit, we spent the night in the bar?"
Dallet nodded. "You passed out a few hours ago and I wasn't carrying your drunk ass all the way back to the castle, so I waited around. Come on, lets walk."
"Need water."
"We'll get it at the castle." Dallet began to walk, slowing his usual pace so Guimel could keep up with him as he staggered and slinging an arm around Guimel's shoulders after a few missteps.
"Why'd you let me drink so much, Dally?" Guimel was moaning, his head lolling on Dallet's shoulder. "I can't even remember last night."
Dallet chuckled. He wasn't surprised. Guimel had drunk Reeden and Kio under the table in ale, buying the rounds for the men in apology for going postal on them earlier. Then, after he'd finished his ale, he'd moved on to the fruity drinks Armando concocted behind the bar that he gave his patrons on the house as experiments. Guimel had never been brave enough to try them before, and he'd downed a couple before Dallet could stop him.
"You sang a romantic duet with Reeden, gave Sam a lap dance, danced on the bar and a few tables, and went in back with Roxy. Good enough summary for you?"
Dallet watched Guimel's reaction under his lashes and laughed at his friend's mounting horror. Hmm... Guimel was never too embarrassed about giving lap dances or dancing on tables, so could it be the duet he was horrified about or...
"I went to the back with freakin' Roxy?" Guimel wailed, going limp against Dallet for a moment, and Dallet almost fell trying to keep him upright. "Oh my gods! Oh gods! She's gonna... Argh!" Guimel steadied himself and pulled at his hair.
Both Dallet's brows raised. "What?"
"She's been telling people she's having my gods-damn baby! If I did her in front... Ah shit!"
Dallet watched Guimel panic in amusement, wondering if he should share the fact that by the time Roxy had gotten to Guimel he was too drunk to get it up. Nah. Let him suffer. He should know better than to think Dallet would let him go off with crazy girls, if he actually thought something could happen.
"I'm too young for kids! I hate kids!"
"Guy."
"Ohhh… I'll never drink again…"
"Guy!"
"What?"
"Shut up. Everyone knows Roxy's pregnant by that kitchen boy, Jamie. You know, the one with the knock-out sister– what's her name– Trudy?"
"The one Pearce is screwing?"
Dallet shuddered. Pearce getting it on with something living was just plain weird, but hey, he supposed if Folken could get a hot girlfriend...
"Damn! I knew it! That no good, two timing troll…"
Dallet rolled his eyes, and grabbed Guimel by the arm again to get him to move forward. He hadn't meant for them to stay out all night. He'd just wanted to get Guimel away from the others and Lord Dilandau, for a little while. It was breaking him down in a way Dallet didn't think was… quite right. Sure, all of them were upset, scared to death, worried sick, but Guimel… It was like something inside him was slowly tearing. Guimel had– aside from their lost comrades– never lost anyone really close to him before, and while Dallet couldn't say that he had either, Guimel was taking it differently. He'd hugged Dallet so tightly the other day, Dallet started to pity Miguel as he imagined that his ribs must have felt that way. For hours afterward, he'd been like a ghost, haunting Dallet with large hollow eyes. Talk of going up to visit with the others made him cringe, talk of hunting up Lord Dilandau with more plans for their boat made him pale, so Dallet had decided to say: Get dressed; we're going out.
The castle walls were in plain view and Dallet could see the smoke rising from the kitchen chimneys, letting him know breakfast was being prepared. His stomach rumbled. He had only eaten enough the night before to balance out the amount of alcohol he planned to drink. The dark haired boy needed to be clear-headed to look out for Guimel, as was habit.
There had been a few moments when his eyes had been elsewhere though. A light grin curved his lips as he recalled his dances with Rosemary. She was nice and curvy, and smelled like blackberry pie. He chuckled quietly; she had even tasted like blackberry pie.
"… and what the hell are you laughing about? You think this is funny! I'm not wearing my own underwear! Just look at the waistband on…"
Wait… "What?" Dallet stopped walking again, staring at Guimel, who had hooked a thumb in the waistband of his black breeches and pulled it out in front of him so he could gaze at his scarlet underpants.
Dallet frowned. Guimel didn't own scarlet undergarments. Not that Dallet made a practice of searching Guimel's laundry or anything, but he'd gotten dressed in the same room with the boy for years and he figured he would have noticed something like that!
Then another thought struck him. "Guy, why the hell are you looking at your underwear anyway?"
Guimel let go of the band of his pants and squinted at Dallet cross-eyed.
Oh yeah… Dallet had momentarily forgotten that Guimel was probably still drunk.
"They're swimming around my ass cheeks and annoying the hell out of me, that's why I'm looking!"
A few passersby gazed at them oddly, before seeming to recognize them and snicker. It was sad when strangers knew who you were, and wrote off random spurts of weirdness as your normal behavior.
There was a shout as they reached the palace walls and the gates were opened for them to reenter. Dallet frowned, wondering if someone had been waiting for their arrival. He pulled Guimel along through the courtyard, waving at greetings received but for the most part directing his attention toward getting inside the castle.
He half expected Gatty or someone to meet him at the doors, and was even more worried at not seeing anyone there.
"Why are we moving so fast, Dally? You're making me dizzy!"
"Shut up, Guimel."
Dallet scolded himself for not going ahead and carrying Guimel last night. They passed an almost empty hangar. The soldiers that weren't sleeping off hangovers after a night of getting smashed were probably down in the boiler room.
Perhaps he was being silly. So the gates had opened as if someone had been on the look out for them. Dallet and Guimel were notorious for their late nights and knew the night and early morning shift lookouts on a first name basis.
No big deal.
No big deal at…
"Shit!"
Dallet came to an abrupt stop, digging his heels into the stone of the hallway and jerking Guimel to him as they nearly crashed into Van, planted like a damn tree in the middle of the corridor.
"What's the big idea?" Dallet demanded and Guimel snickered, pointing at Van. "You look constipated."
"What the hell is going on with Dilandau? Everyone's going crazy up there and no one's talking to me about it! I'm tired of being the only one who doesn't know the deep dark secret! What are they doing to him? Folken and his woman just took him away and..."
Dallet's knees went weak. "Oh gods..."
Guimel's nails dug into the meat of his shoulder. "D...Dally, what's he saying?"
Dallet wanted to push Guimel away. He was distracting him from Van; the boy king looked distraught, meaning he'd probably been tossed out on his ass in the midst of the unfolding...
"He's not dead yet, is he?"
Had he asked that? It had sounded like his voice. How could it have been so calm?
"Dead?" Van gasped, blinking then paling. "What do you mean is he dead? Why would he... Oh..."
"I'm gonna throw up." Dallet barely acknowledged the loss of Guimel's warmth at his side.
Dallet stumbled past Van, ignoring the boy as he called after him– voice slightly hysterical– toward the stairs. He went up them slowly, hands shaking, stomach clenching, and wondering if maybe he shouldn't.
If... if Lord Dilandau was... then there was no reason to go. He didn't think he wanted to see the body. Two maids passed by him on their way down, Kanwal and Tayla, nice girls who sometimes left fruit baskets outside Lord Dilandau's door. Unrequited love could be so cute.
Poor Van.
Dallet tiptoed into the empty Slayer corridor; it was funny how easily they'd slipped into calling it that: Slayer corridor, like they lived here or something.
It was so quiet.
"Look who's back."
Dallet started at the sound of Miguel's voice behind him and whirled to face the other boy, taking him roughly by the shoulders. "Lord Dilandau... is he...?"
"Looking for you?" Miguel carefully removed Dallet's biting fingers from his shoulders. "Not really. Why? Did you have an assignment or something? Really, Dallet, being in Astoria has made you and Guimel so..."
Dallet frowned at Miguel's nonchalance, choking panic shifting to staggering confusion. Miguel could be a cold bastard, but this was too much even for him. "Miguel, Lord Dilandau's..."
Miguel raised a brow, annoyed at being interrupted. He studied Dallet for a while, when he realized he wouldn't– couldn't– finish his sentence and a light seemed to come on behind those dark blue eyes. "That's right. You wouldn't know yet, would you?"
"Know what?" Dallet reached for Miguel again and the other Slayer took a quick step back.
"Ribs, Dallet," he reminded him curtly. "Folken and Marie have found a match for Lord Dilandau, and he's getting treatment as we speak."
There was a soft thud after Dallet's legs had decided that they didn't want to hold him up anymore. He sat on the hard floor, staring up at Miguel, eyes large and disbelieving.
He was waiting for the joke that never came.
"You serious?"
Miguel scowled and tentatively folded his arms over his chest. "Would I waste my time making up stories for you? Honestly, and where's Guimel–"
"Who... who's the match?" Dallet clambered to his feet, shaking his tingling limbs to get blood flowing to them again.
Miguel smirked, running a hand through his hair and gazing around as if someone unwanted might butt into the conversation at any time. "You'd never guess."
Dallet didn't know if he should strangle Miguel for keeping him hanging, or be amused by his playfulness. The boy had been partnered with Viole for too long. "Who?"
"Allen Schezar."
Miguel was right, Dallet thought, wondering if his ass would appreciate another trip to the floor. He would have guessed until he was twenty-three before he'd even thought of the bastard knight, and even then, he'd dismiss it as desperately ludicrous.
"Yeah, that was my reaction too." Miguel's smirk widened into a smile. "But, hey, it's done, and he was a really nice guy about it. Very– compassionate– for someone who was willingly going to let the Red Witch drill into his bones and suck fluid out of them while unconscious."
Dallet cringed at the image and glared at Miguel who looked positively tickled. Miguel and tickled, much like Guimel and cherub, did not belong in the same sentence– hell, the same page– as one another!
"... answered me, where is Guimel? Did you leave him in a bar? I can't say that I'd blame you if you did–"
Dallet stared at Miguel, noting his unusually talkative manner and his brighter demeanor. Good news did that to people, he guessed. He wondered how he looked. He'd probably looked like hell before, and now– oh shit!
Miguel had asked about Guimel.
Guimel was currently downstairs freaking out because Van had...
"Just wait til I get my hands on that creep..." Dallet growled, smacking a fist in his palm, and ignoring Miguel's raised brow.
"Lover's quarrel?"
Dallet flushed, silently cursing Viole for encouraging Miguel to purchase a sense of humor. "No, it's– it's Van. He's downstairs scaring the shit out of people, made us think Lord Dilandau was...ya know! I gotta go get Guy. He's been all screwy lately and I'm sure His Hindquarters's idiocy didn't help."
Miguel blinked, his expression an odd mixture of surprise, "aww... dammit," and resignation.
"What?"
Miguel shook his head. "Nothing. Don't worry about it. Look, Lord Dilandau and Gatty are waiting for me. When you get back up here with Guimel you need to go see Folken and Marie and let them check you both over to..."
"Check us over?" Dallet interrupted. He had already been turning away from Miguel to rush back toward the stairs. Why had he let Guimel run off on his own? He knew he should have gone after him first, then come upstairs!
Ok, that was major hindsight bias on his part, but still.
"Yeah, they've got to make sure you're healthy and not carrying anything contagious. The treatment they're giving Lord Dilandau right now to get him ready is killing the stuff in his body that might reject Allen's marrow and everything else. Shesta and Viole have already been declared off-limits, and if you two come in there with the venereal diseases that you've probably contracted from..."
Oh my gods! Dallet stopped himself short of smacking Miguel. He's injured; he's injured– he had to keep reminding himself. "You can't catch a venereal..."
"I know. I'm hinting around that you need to be checked out for that anyway. Now get out of here."
Dallet gaped at Miguel's deadpan look, and stood stock still until the other boy began to move in the direction of Lord Dilandau's room.
Well, he'd never.
With a rough shake of the head, Dallet proceeded down the hallway to begin mission: Find Guimel– and in the meantime, if he happened to run into a certain Fanelian monarch– kill Van.
Dilandau scratched the skin around the central venous line Marie had inserted in his chest just above his heart when he was certain Gatty was looking elsewhere.
The blond glanced up from the cards he was studying, eyeing him suspiciously. "Stop scratching that thing, Lord Dilandau."
Dilandau scowled, placing his hands on his knees and tilting his head back to stare at the evil fluid being pumped into his system suspended above him from a long IV pole next to his chair. Folken had told him there would be side effects, and Dilandau had figured nothing could be worse than how he already felt. So all in all, he hadn't been surprised at the nausea, but the increasing weakness was irritating.
The door opened and someone slid into the room wearing soft slippers– probably Miguel. Dilandau cocked his head, trying to discern a form through the veil that hung from the ceiling to separate the core of his room from a small area just in front of the door. The dark shape behind the curtain fumbled at the small station Folken and Marie had set up to find a fresh gown to pull over his clothing, gloves, and a mask that would cover his mouth and nose.
Dilandau frowned, turning his attention to Gatty and studying the white cotton cloth that hid the bottom half of his face and fastened behind his ears. White gloves were ill-fitted over his sturdy hands, making his card handling clumsy. He dropped a few cards onto the table and Dilandau noted, before Gatty could slap his hands over the faces of the cards, that he had 2 aces and a queen.
"Oi! You saw my cards; this game's void!"
"Oh, get over it, Gatty. You were losing anyway." Miguel's even voice floated eerily from beyond the veil and Dilandau chuckled.
"Shut up! Hey, what took so long– get lost in the bathroom?" Gatty threw his cards on the round table and reached across the table to grab Dilandau's and Miguel's as well, jumbling them all in the middle of the table.
Dilandau raised an amused brow at Gatty and claimed the full deck to shuffle and deal out again.
"Ha, ha..." Miguel snorted. "I ran into Dallet."
"They just get in?" Gatty counted his cards and waved a hand for Dilandau to toss him one more.
"Yeah." Miguel parted the curtain and stepped through, pulling it back shut. "I filled Dallet in on everything and then he left to get Guimel."
"Guimel wasn't with him?" Gatty asked, scowling at his hand and looking at Dilandau distrustfully.
Dilandau's eyes widened. He didn't know whether to continue being amused or to take offense. "Hey, you watched me shuffle the deck!"
The table shook as Miguel took his seat and adjusted his legs comfortably beneath it. "Face it, Gatty. The gambling god doesn't like you, and no, Guimel wasn't with him. He left him downstairs. Said they ran into Van and he freaked them both out. Dallet ran up here like a bat out of hell."
Dilandau tossed his cards at Gatty and swiped the other boy's. "Fine, I'll play your hand!" He turned to Miguel. "Van freaked them out? Someone freaked Dallet and Guimel out?– is that possible? What did he do?"
"Ah..." Miguel scratched his head. "Dallet didn't really say..."
Dilandau stared at the slight inflection in Miguel's voice that usually indicated nervousness and tried to catch Miguel's eyes. Miguel reached for his cards, flipping them over to study the faces and avoiding Dilandau's inquiring gaze.
He lied.
"Maybe I should switch hands with you too, Gatty. Might give you a better..."
"Miguel, what did Van do to Dallet and Guimel?" Dilandau pressed, covering Miguel's cards with a hand.
Miguel took a hissing breath through his teeth and let the cards fall from his fingers. "Lord Dilandau, you haven't told Van anything at all about any of this." Miguel gestured around the sick room and Dilandau shuddered.
Of course he hadn't. What was attractive about being ill?
He frowned, brow wrinkling as he wondered why he chosen that particular line of reasoning? Who cared how Van thought he looked?
"Well– he knows now."
Dilandau felt as if he'd swallowed a stone and it sat immovable in his belly.
"They didn't," Gatty groaned. "Those imbeciles..."
"Van apparently made them think the good news was horrible, and they just..." Miguel ended in a shrug. "Anyway, I set Dallet straight; he's gonna get Guimel, but I don't know about Van. He may..."
"Shit."
Gatty and Miguel stopped conversing, glancing at him worriedly.
"Lord Dilandau, he was going to figure it out eventually. At least... at least you didn't have to tell him." Gatty's consolation was weak and it did nothing to ease Dilandau's nerves.
Now Van knew. Now he knew and he would treat Dilandau differently. Would he choose the "glass route" his Slayers had taken with him and handle him with gloves– literally now– or would he be...
"He looked at me as an equal. We sparred together, and drank together and... But being like this... I'm not... What if he thinks I'm not a worthy opponent anymore, not a worthy..." Dilandau trailed off, raising a knuckle to his lips to bite. What if I'm not a worthy companion?
Cloth covered hands saved his fingers from being savaged, holding them tightly. "If Van thinks any less of you then he's not worth your time. It's him that is struggling to be at your side, stay at your side."
Dilandau frowned at Miguel, confused at the strange passion that had overcome the other boy. "Lord Dilandau, Van has learned something about you that you weren't ready for him to know. So perhaps it is time you learned something about him that he himself hasn't found the courage to tell you."
"Miguel..." Gatty gasped. "Maybe you shouldn't..."
"Someone's got to do it for them! They're both too..."
Dilandau was about to knock Gatty and Miguel's heads together, but was distracted, like his cohorts, by the sound of his door opening. Behind the curtain, a tall shape quickly suited up for entry, too tall to be any of his Slayers... or Van... and too slender to be Folken.
"Who's there?" Dilandau asked. Could it be Pearce? Maybe he had heard they were playing poker and wanted to be dealt in. He was the only person Dilandau had played that offered any challenge.
"Allen."
The three boys gawked, then turned wide eyes to each other, mouths all hanging agape in disbelief. Just how many surprises was this man planning to deliver them? First taking care of Dilandau, then saving Dilandau, and now– visiting him when he didn't have to?
"Is it ok if I come in? I would like to talk to you."
"Um... yeah, sure," Dilandau floundered.
Gatty raised a brow and Miguel released Dilandau's hand.
The curtain parted and Allen stepped in, usual garments enveloped in a large white gown and handsome face veiled by a half mask. "You have company."
Dilandau wanted to roll his eyes. He always had company. He couldn't wipe his ass by himself, remember?
Then, glancing at his comrades guiltily, also reminded himself that they knew he didn't like being alone.
"Yeah."
"Uh... I'm sorry to interrupt your game, but," Allen walked further into the room looking at Gatty and Miguel pointedly, "I need to speak with Dilandau privately. It's important."
Dilandau studied the knight's solemn face, the soft light in his sky blue eyes stirring something deep within him. Nibbling his lower lip, Dilandau placed his hands on the table. "Miguel, Gatty, we'll finish the game later."
Miguel stiffened, looking as if he wanted to object to being kicked out, but sighing as he probably remembered just who they might owe Dilandau's life to. Gods...
Dilandau would owe this man his life.
"See you later, Lord Dilandau. Have someone send for us, when you need us." Gatty rose and Miguel followed him through the curtain where they disrobed and left the room, closing the door silently behind them.
"Can I sit here?" Allen motioned to the chair Miguel had vacated and Dilandau nodded numbly, watching the elegant man fold his long body into the seat. "What were you playing?"
"Poker."
"Do you want to play a game with me?"
Dilandau started to shake his head, about to demand Allen tell him what he wanted. He was tired of people skirting issues with him and acting as if– oh crap! Miguel was going to tell him something about Van!
Dammit Allen, you made me forget!
"How about we play Swordfish."
"Swordfish?" Dilandau asked, irritation momentarily forgotten.
"Mmhm... it's a game my mother made up. She taught it to me when I was little; she taught my little sister as well."
"And you want to teach me?" Had Allen lost his mind? Dilandau could be learning secrets about Van that would make his secret look like a tadpole compared to the boy king's full- grown bullfrog.
"No. I think you might know it. I'll deal."
Dilandau stared as the man gathered the scattered cards from the table and shuffled them together; he dealt them each a hand of 12 and set the remaining deck in the middle of the table.
"Just how am I supposed to know a game your mother made up, Schezar?"
Dilandau took his cards, noting as the Knight Caeli reached for his own that he was not wearing gloves. His finely shaped hands were calloused from years of swordplay and his long fingers were without rings. Dilandau looked at his own hands, flexing one and willing it not to shake when he felt Allen's eyes on him.
"I don't know," the blond said softly. "Let's just play it by ear, Dilandau. I'll go first." He laid down a face card. "Dilandau, who is Celena?"
If Dilandau had been wearing a heart monitor it would have played a long, shrill note announcing to Folken and Marie that his heart had stopped. Who had told Allen about Celena?
"How do you..."
"Who is she, Dilandau?" Allen pressed.
"My... she's my sister– my twin sister– and if you know anything about where she is...?" Dilandau rose from his chair, swaying as vertigo reminded him why he'd been sitting. Before he could fall, however, a strong body braced him, holding him steady. Allen was fast to be such a stiff, Dilandau snorted, relaxing in his embrace.
Why did it always feel so good when Allen touched him, held him?
"Dilandau. I have a sister too."
So? Dilandau wanted to retort, but couldn't. A warm hand was rubbing his back as if softening him– but for what?
"Do you know what Celena's surname is?"
Dilandau shook his head lightly. Celena had a surname? Of course, she did. Mama had to have had one too. He'd just– never thought about it. Did Allen know it? Was he going to help Dilandau find his sister?
"Celena's name is..."
"I knew it!"
Both Dilandau and Allen jumped at the shrill shriek of Van's voice. Dilandau nearly stumbled as he whirled to face the curtain Van had thrown open to see the red-faced boy king glaring heatedly at... at Allen?
When had he come in? Dilandau hadn't even heard the door open.
He felt Allen's arms lock around his waist and realized that he'd been wavering back and forth. "Van, you can't just come in here like that! You're letting..."
"You– you don't tell me anything! I can't believe I trusted you! You just— you just can't let me be happy! You're always— always– taking people away from me! What about Hitomi? Wasn't she enough? Gods, Allen— just, just..."
"Van, look. We'll talk about this in the hall. You really can't be in here! You're contaminating..."
"I don't want to talk about anything with you anymore! Just– leave me the hell alone and stay the hell away from me!"
Van stormed out of the room, leaving the curtain open and slamming the door. Any moment, Dilandau was expecting his Slayers to come barging in, swords ready. What the hell had that been? He stared in Van's wake, then tilted his head back against Allen's collarbone to question him, and found the man peering down at him, eyes strange yet warm.
Allen took a deep breath, and Dilandau tensed. "Celena's last name is Schezar, Dilandau, and she is my sister."
Van pushed through the barrage of Slayers coming at him from all sides as he barreled down the hallway and then the stairs at break neck speed. He didn't know where he was going and didn't care.
Allen– freakin'– Schezar, the biggest asshole this side of Gaea! How could Van have ever befriended that jerk? He should have listened to his initial instincts that had hated the bastard when he'd first met him!
And Dilandau...
Gods, Dilandau had just been standing there, letting Allen hold him, touch him! He was just like Hitomi, Hitomi who had let herself be wooed by the blond knight. Gods, Dilandau was supposed to be different from her. Dilandau didn't swoon and blush and skip after pretty faces like a hungry puppy following a man carrying food. He was a challenge; he was Van's challenge! Not so long ago, Dilandau had laid in Van's arms, demanding that Van hold him and stroke his hair. How could he have turned to Allen so quickly?
"Van!"
Van stumbled at the sound of his name, but didn't stop. He didn't want to talk to anyone.
"Van, wait!"
He didn't realize until he was in front of his door that he'd run to his room. He threw the door open, stalking toward his closet, where he stripped off the fashionable garments he wore. To hell with silk shirts and pressed slacks, to hell with fancy boots. The boy king was pulling on a simple cotton shirt and breeches when he heard someone in his doorway.
He turned his head slightly and rolled his eyes at the sight of Hitomi, cheeks either pink from exertion or exposure. She wasn't breathing hard after the chase, so Van was willing to go for the latter.
Well, at least someone was impressed.
"Van, may I come in?"
"No." Van buttoned his pants and searched for his brown work boots. Where had he put those things?
"Why not? You aren't doing anything. You said we were going to talk, so I came back and haven't been able to find you! You're always with those Zaibach people! And Merle, Merle's been so annoying, prancing around and smirking at me like she knows something I don't! I need to talk to you, Van, now. There's something I need to tell you."
Something I need to tell you... Something I needed to tell him.
Shit.
Van found his practical brown boots behind a pair of tall black boots with buckles at the knees. Slipping his feet into them, he moved to the window, Dilandau's window.
He envisioned the silver god peering through the clear panes with his thin arms folded over his chest and winced at the intense feelings of longing tearing holes in his belly. Gods...
He couldn't have him.
Allen had him. Allen was... taking care of him. Allen had known he was sick, that he was... Van swallowed hard. The young monarch rested his body against the warm glass, shutting his eyes as he recalled what had sent him barging into Dilandau's room in the first place, once he'd gotten his head around it.
Dying. Dilandau was dying, and Van was going to tell him how he felt, just blurt it out instead of scrambling to find the right words to say, and force a reaction. He wanted to be there; he wanted... Gods.
He wanted to do so much and was afraid that he might not have the time... "Van?"
Van cringed at the girl's voice. Why was she still there?
"Are you ok?"
She was coming closer, and the thought of being near her was making him ill. She wasn't who he wanted. Van straightened up, unlatching the window quickly, pushing it open, and inhaling the warm, oil scented updrafts that came to greet him. Hitomi's footsteps were timid behind him and he quickly climbed onto the sill. "Watch out, Hitomi."
He had to get out of here. He had to get away from her, away from him, away from Astoria. Van ripped his shirt over his head and tossed it behind him, releasing his wings and grunting as the feathery extensions of himself burst from his arched back. It felt good, like cracking knuckles or stretching tired limbs.
Hitomi gasped, and Van imagined the awe in her green eyes as she beheld his wings as if she'd never seen them before. He wondered idly if Dilandau would be so impressed.
"Van..."
A black feather floated down to land on the toe of his boot and he gazed at it, frowning and flexing a wing to cast an analytical gaze at its new ebony tint.
"...your wings. What happened to your wings?"
Van shrugged. "Nothing."
He leapt from the window, catching an updraft that boosted him into the air. He flew over the courtyard, glancing back over his shoulder to see the rapidly diminishing image of Hitomi in his window calling him back and wishing it was Dilandau.
What happened to your wings?
Nothing.
His entire life was eclipsed in shadows: his parents were dead, his brother was a traitor, his country was destroyed, his best friend had stolen his object of affection, so it was only natural for his wings to be black to match.
Allen was quick to settle Dilandau back into his chair as the boy struggled to free himself from Allen's grip. He pulled away, only stepping back after he was satisfied that Dilandau was safely seated and not about to tip over. Danger to his person from being too close to Dilandau's outburst was not as important.
The Knight Caeli waited for his paler, younger sibling– he smiled inwardly at the title he'd bestowed upon the ranting boy before him– to calm.
"No good asshole! How dare you come in here and spout that shit to me? I don't care if your freakin' marrow might help me out; you've got no right! Is this about that stupid castle of yours? Well, it was a piece of shit anyway and I did you a favor by burning it down!"
Allen raised a thin brow at that last statement and chose not to comment. Instead, he went to see if Van had closed the door after his brash exit and draw the curtains. Miguel and Gatty greeted him at the door, Viole and Shesta standing not too far behind them, outside of the room.
"What the hell is going on?" Gatty demanded and Allen wanted to roll his eyes, but did not. The last thing he needed to do was offend Dilandau's men.
"Nothing. Van just... had a misunderstanding. Dilandau and I are in the middle of discussion; I'll come and knock on one of your doors when we're through."
Gatty frowned, clearly about to object when Shesta called to him. "Leave it be, Gatty."
Gatty huffed, tossing a frustrated look over his shoulder at Shesta who smirked at him.
"He's right, Gatty. Lets go," Miguel said softly, taking Gatty's arm.
"Fine."
The Slayers retreated and Allen shut the door. The blond knight retook his seat across from the still fuming Dilandau at the card table. Why hadn't he called out to his Slayers? Allen wondered curiously.
The silver haired captain was nearing the end of his endurance, an unhealthy flush stained his cheeks pink and he panted. Groaning, he folded his arms on the table and rested his head on top of them.
"Get out," came the muffled command Allen had expected, "you lying, son of a bitch."
Son of a bitch? Anger swelled within him. "Watch your mouth. You will not disrespect my mother in that way."
Dilandau snorted, not raising his head to look at Allen. "Don't you mean our mother according to you?"
"Yes, I do," Allen said, not missing a beat. "I'm ready for any questions you might want to ask me Dilandau. Prove me to be a liar."
Red eyes gleamed from the shadow of the crook of his arms. "What the hell kind of questions would I ask you?"
"Anything– about Celena, about Mother, Father, the manor, me. Can you sit up? I'd like to see your face while we talk."
Dilandau's eyes narrowed, but a moment later he sat up, albeit a bit hunched, snatching up the abandoned hand of cards he was dealt earlier. Allen met the fiery gaze of challenge with a cool look of his own.
He picked up his own cards.
"What was her name?" Dilandau asked, placing a card over the queen Allen had initially set down.
"Who's?"
"My... your mother's."
"Encia."
Dilandau blinked, feathery lashes, Mother's feathery lashes, fluttering over porcelain cheeks before he looked up again. "Wh... what does she, did she, look like?"
Allen flinched at the dull pang mention of his mother's passing always brought about and frowned at Dilandau. "How did you know she was... gone?"
Dilandau swallowed, jittering knees causing the table to bounce. "I... it was..." He shook his head, glaring. "You told me to ask and you would answer, so answer!"
Allen stared at Dilandau, comparing his agitated state to that of Celena's days ago and noting the similarities of the twins in awe. "She was beautiful, tall for a woman and willowy with hair the color of mine, but with curls like Celena's. Her eyes were cornflower blue and– well, people often tell me I look like her, but not more so than you."
Allen laid down another card and watched as Dilandau planted another face card on top of the tiny pile they'd created and claimed it for his own. He watched the boy gazing at the shape of his own hands and letting his eyes roam over to find Allen's fingers.
"She... she held you and wouldn't nurse Celena until we, Father and I, pried– your body from her arms. She didn't want to let you go, and didn't stop crying until she looked at Celena and... and saw something there that I didn't."
Dilandau gently placed another card on the table and Allen put down one of his own automatically. "Mother was very spiritual. She prayed to deities and lit candles at night, and did all sorts of things I thought impractical. She never punished Celena for her horrible behavior and... I didn't know why. It always infuriated me. I used to discipline Celena when Mother wasn't around, but stopped after that time she caught me. I didn't understand, couldn't..."
"But now, maybe I have an explanation. Mother knew– she knew there were two children inside of Celena, and to punish one would be to punish both."
Dilandau claimed another small mound of cards.
There was silence.
"What happened to Celena? She left you, didn't she?"
Allen nodded, blinking as Dilandau took another pile. He didn't remember ever being so bad at this game, nor Celena ever being so good at it, but that one time... He shook his head, wishing he'd pulled his hair back like he had in his younger days.
"Celena... disappeared. One afternoon she was playing in the yard, an hour later she was gone. It was as if she'd been spirited away. I never saw her again, until..."
"Until?" Dilandau collected the last of Allen's cards, winning the game but not seeming to notice.
"Until she appeared a few days ago," Allen stated calmly, nodding to the cards Dilandau had lined neatly in front of him. "You won. Would you like to play again?"
The boy jumped slightly, letting out a startled gasp as he realized he had indeed won the unfamiliar game without instruction. "I... Holy..." He pushed away from the table, wanting to rise but lacking the equilibrium to do so at the moment. "You can't– you can't be telling the truth! It's... it's absurd! It's..."
"As absurd as Zaibach's magic men experimenting on children and producing male warlords from little girls?"
Dilandau choked, a hand going over his mouth. "How... how do you know about that?"
"Celena came home a few days ago, ragged and dirty with no memory of what had happened to her in the past ten years. She spoke like the 5-year-old she was before she'd been taken. She talked about bald men making promises to separate her from the little brother she always claimed she had that I had dismissed as complete nonsense on her part. Then... then she seemed to come back to herself, seemed to realize Mother had to be dead and that her brother... you... were gone."
"She ran away from me. She went to the graveyard and found Mother's headstone. I thought she was crying... She was shuddering so violently and making noises like she was in pain. I..." Allen's voice had become a soft whisper as he was lost in reverie. "I tried to touch her shoulder and said her name, and she... she changed. She turned around and her eyes... They were violet and her voice was distorted. She looked at me as if she didn't know who I was and then she called out a strange name and a Zaibach guymelef appeared out of nowhere and took her away again."
Allen felt cold hands on his, and he opened eyes he didn't know he'd closed to see that Dilandau had scooted his chair back to the table and was leaning forward to peer at him. Allen freed a single hand to settle in Dilandau's soft hair, smiling as images of Mother laughing entered his mind, her own soft hair free of its bind, waving in the breeze as she worked in her garden. Dilandau didn't move, didn't pull away from Allen's touch.
"Celena was here."
"Yes."
"I felt her."
Allen paused. "You did?"
"Only briefly and then she was gone. It was... it was after that last fight with Valeska, when I... got sick. I sensed her presence close by. Folken sent my Slayers out to look for her... Folken..."
"He knows," Allen said, not wincing as Dilandau's fingers bit into his flesh. "He... knew before I did. He told me about the sorcerers and what they did to Celena, to you. I didn't believe him. My reaction was worse than yours. The whole story was so insane, but then..."
Dilandau was trembling and Allen thought it best he sit back down properly. He brushed the boy's fingers away and gave him a gentle push back into his chair. "...then a good friend suggested that I watch you, because he had noticed it too– that we... look alike, even... even act alike sometimes. He told me to find out all I could about you, and after yesterday, when I held you and saw your artwork, I knew."
"You knew," Dilandau breathed. "And Folken knew. And Marie knew." He frowned at Allen. "And... I'm last to know. Why am I last? Why didn't Folken say something when he first figured it out. He probably knew weeks ago. He..."
"Was protecting you. I... Dilandau, I'm an asshole, and I would have hurt you. Folken didn't want you hurt."
"I could have died though. I still could. He was going to just wait until you..."
"No," Allen shook his head, running a hand through his own hair and massaging his temples. "He wasn't just waiting, Dilandau. Folken was thinking of you and your friends. If he'd... done something to me to get what you needed, Astoria would have turned you all out. He needed facilities to treat you, and..."
"My friends need a home, security."
Allen nodded, moistening his lips and looking ashamed. "I'm not proud of my reaction, and I hate myself for... for letting you become this ill when I could have done something to prevent it."
Dilandau was staring, face contorting in confusion. "You're... blaming yourself– for me?"
"I blame myself for a lot of things Dilandau– for Celena, for mother, why not you too?"
"Because you don't... Ok, look. I'm passed being pissed at you for... you know, because I'm starting to think you honestly believe it but..."
Allen placed a hand under his chin as he observed the boy's already tentative composure snap in two.
"Gods..." He covered his face.
"Would you like for me to leave, so you can collect your thoughts? You can send for me at any time, and I'll gladly..."
"Stay."
All right. Allen sat back eyeing the IV attached to a port somewhere under Dilandau's blue, silk shirt.
"So..." Dilandau started, then stopped, slowly pulling his hands away from his face., his expression weary and subdued. "So, you want to believe this and think of me as... as a..."
"... younger brother I thought I had lost 15 years ago."
"And I'm just supposed to..."
"You aren't supposed to do anything," Allen said with a sigh, wanting to reach out to him again. "I just...felt you should know why I... had such a drastic change of heart about you. I know you wondered about it."
Dilandau nodded, nibbling on a pale bottom lip.
"So, now you do, and... as I said before, with everything that's happened in your past, is being related to me really so hard to believe? I mean, Celena had to have a family somewhere and if you came from her..."
"I didn't come from her."
Allen blinked at the interruption. Dilandau was carefully getting to his feet, using the arm of his chair as leverage and a balancing post for a second before pushing off to go to his bed. He grabbed the IV pole and tugged it after him as he ventured to his nightstand. Another sketch book with a tan cover set upon it and Dilandau took it in both hands. "I was born, like you said, from Mama and got... displaced. She thinks it's because she loved me so much and willed it to happen, but I didn't go to where I should have."
Allen rose from the chair, coming around the bed to stand next to Dilandau, turning the boy to face him. He didn't ask. He didn't have to. Dilandau knew to explain himself.
"I had a dream about her, Mama, Mother..." he chuckled lightly. "Encia Schezar, maybe. I thought it was a dream, but it wasn't. Said she'd been somewhere inside me and Celena, waiting for us to look for her. She told me about it, how I was born dead, but instead of going to heaven I went inside Celena. She...held me... like you do. It's... it's why I like it so much, I guess, when you hold me."
Allen shut his eyes, wishing he could have seen what Dilandau said he did. He didn't for one moment doubt the boy's words, whether he confessed he thought his vision was fantasy or postcognition. Allen was ready to believe anything at this point. Draconians were real and still in existence, Escaflowne was a real dragon, he'd dated a girl from the Mystic Moon, his baby sister was an evil warlord on the enemy's side, and he had a little brother, so why couldn't Mother communicate beyond the grave?
Allen laughed suddenly, startling Dilandau who gazed up at him with wide eyes. "Don't mind me. I'm just slowly going completely insane."
Then, much to Allen's surprise and delight, Dilandau cracked a small smile, laughing weakly with him. "Care for company?"
They sat on the bed together, Allen reaching for the art book. "May I?"
"It's why I came to get it." Dilandau shrugged and played with his IV cord while Allen flipped open the sketch book, thumbing through many blank pages until coming across a sketch in the middle of a young woman sitting in a large bed with a teenage boy crushed against her chest.
Allen gasped lightly, tracing a long finger over the contour of the picture as he recognized the room, the bed, the woman and the boy. It was Mother's bedroom, and that was the large feather bed Allen had spent so many nights sleeping in beside her, chasing away nightmares. The boy in her arms, though Allen couldn't see his face, had to be Dilandau. He could tell from the way he sat in Mother's embrace. "This is..."
"That's when I saw her. Is it...?"
Allen nodded. "That's her, Dilandau."
"And so, we're...?"
"Yes."
"Ok."
Allen blinked. "Ok?"
"Ok."
Allen was still as Dilandau shifted on his bed, fumbling with his IV until he was successfully immersed in the wealth of pillows at the head of his bed. "So, what now?"
"Hm?" Allen was careful when he turned to face the boy, his younger brother, to not hit the IV pole or drop the sketch book. He really hadn't thought about what would come next after he told Dilandau who he was, but he supposed their next big step would be to, "Find Celena."
Dilandau nodded. "Any clues. I mean, where was she coming from when she appeared at... at..."
"Home?" Allen finished. "Um..." Dear gods, how had he forgotten this detail? Dilandau had no idea about Celena and Valeska. How was he going to take to knowing he'd almost fought his twin to the death more than once, judging from their banter?
"What is it now?" Dilandau sounded annoyed.
"She... was coming from the battlefield we just left."
"What?" Dilandau sat up and hissed. "Freakin' IV! She came from that last battle? Really? Where was she? I knew I felt her there. Did she try to find me?"
"Oh, she found you," Allen said, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.
"She did? Why didn't she get my attention?"
"Oh, she had it."
Dilandau was glaring at him; Allen could feel it, but he refused to look. "The only people that had my attention on the field was Zaibach and my Slayers... oh and you when that bitch Valeska tried to..."
Allen looked at him then, almost chuckling at his awestruck expression.
"Oh my gods! Don't tell me– no, please don't tell me– Is she... was that..."
"She's Valeska," Allen said smoothly, reaching out to rest a hand on one of Dilandau's thin legs and rubbing the silk fabric of his pajama pants. "And before you go on a guilt trip, you didn't know it was Celena, and she certainly doesn't recognize you as being her brother. Zaibach has brainwashed her or something and she doesn't remember us. So..."
He stopped as Dilandau's incredulous features soured into something akin to disappointment and his brows furrowed in confusion. "What's wrong?"
"Valeska is Celena."
"Yes..." Allen frowned, becoming concerned, "but don't worry. We'll find a way to..."
"Valeska is Celena and that was the best she could do against me!"
Allen stared.
"We had the same freakin' training and that was the best she could possibly do? She never stood a chance. I beat her while handicapped, twice! Twice! How embarrassing is that?"
Allen sat back, massaging the bridge of his nose again, feeling a migraine coming on. There was no doubt about it.
Dilandau was Celena's twin through and true.
"What's the matter with you, Allen?"
"Nothing."
Just wishing Mother and Father had stopped after they realized they'd gotten it right the first time. Younger siblings. Ai.
Author's Note: So what's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Either way, let me know. Please review!
Reviewer Responses:
Nalen: Thank you:) I'm glad you enjoyed the story enough to want to buy it when you can get it free off the net ;) lol! Sorry about the wait. I have poor time management skills. I hope you're still with me for this one. Thanks for reviewing!
Black Mage Dad: Lol! Hello! Thank you for the review and I will try to make next month's deadline :).Take care!
Escaloony: Lol :). There will be no unnecessary deaths (evil grin). Hah! Pearce as a clown; that would be too funny. I can see his costume now, lol! The mystery of Pearce's business meetings were revealed. Nowhere near as interesting as being a clown... I probably should have written that instead but Pearce wouldn't have been pleased with me, and he's kinda scary (shudders). I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I hope to hear from you again! Take care and thank you for reviewing!
Kou-Kagerou: Lol, hey girl! Well, I hope you liked the latest chapter, more bombs are dropped and I can finally move into the last battle. I don't know if the next chapter will be the last...something tells me it'll be the chapter after it. After all, I've still gotta let Dilandau have his "sprinkler" revenge. Yeah, there will be a few post Severed shorter arcs, but nothing as extensive as this beast. Thanks for sticking with me for so long! Take care!
Katsu: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Lots of brotherly love and ;). Yup, Dilandau likes Van; he's just starting to realize it :). Dilandau's recovery we'll have to play by ear and see how it goes. Bone marrow transplants are finicky things, sometimes they work, sometimes they don't, but it always take time to see the results ;). Thank you for reviewing and take care!
PyroNekoAssassin: Love the name hehehe! I don't think I've told you that before. Neko is cat right? So fire-cat-assassin? Should I be afraid to let my fuzzy animals go near you? Lol, ok, I'm in silly mode, sorry. The happiest dance ever, huh? How's that one go:P Thanks for keeping up with me and reviewing. Take care!
Glass Angel1: Lol, ok well maybe two more chapters after this one. Eh, Eboni-mistress-of–long windedness, couldn't cut this chapter off and get in all the scenes she wanted. I promise not to drag it out for much longer though. The truth about Dilandau and Allen is out lol, well to Dilandau, soon it will be out to everyone...but Van cause he left lol! Yah, Marie had fun drilling holes into his pelvis. Lets see him womanize now ;). Yeah, Celena will cause a mess. Yes, get back to writing your story and when I'm through with this beast, I will be allowed to read Esca fics again, and I will have something good to read :). Thanks for reviewing girl and take care!
S.P. Vinter: Allen says: the past is behind us now. He has no hard feelings against anything you've said about him, though the Slayers still snicker about your comments. I'm glad you enjoyed the previous chapter, the conclusion of the longest day in the world. Take care and thank you for reviewing!
Jhaylin: Lol, hey that's fiction for ya. The goods never come to the end of the book, but if we got them at the beginning, why keep reading lol. Yes, the fic is almost over. Not quite as over as I thought, but almost. Two more chapters... and some one-shots and mini-multi-chapter stories. Thank you for sticking with me and take care! Thanks for reviewing!
Koneri: Lol, thank you so much. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Take care!
AmePiper: Ok, sorry. You reviewed my Gundam Wing story and I forgot to include the answer to your question in last month's response. I ended up purchasing Gundam Wing from a local store in a complete box set. Ebay has great offers for the series if you want to buy it in its entirety. Ok, on the Esca review: Lol, yeah the second chance means he's getting another shot at sticking around for a few more years. Without the transplant he had no hope of survival, with the transplant his chances of survival increase radically. Lol, yes the story's ending soon, but there will be follow up short stories. I hope you'll follow those too :). Thanks for reviewing and take care!
Arkarian: Lol thank you! Take care!
Macky: Lol, I will...almost through. Thanks for reviewing!
Aurebec: Yeah, that last update took longer than I'd wanted it too and so did this one. But I wasn't as bad this time. The Slayers opening scene was written three different ways and that was the one I stuck with; I'm glad you liked it :). Lol, Van finally has a clue now, though it's semi-wrong– all my fault of course;). It's just so fun to keep him misinformed. I'm just so glad you buy the Folken/Marie thing. No one likes original female characters, especially ones that end being love interests, so I'm always overjoyed at Folken/Marie comments. Pearce is so growing on me. He's one of my favorite people to randomly toss into the mix now. Allen's nightmares were fun. He's such a baby lol. More smiles about Folken's and Marie's characters. I felt like I've been short-changing them as of late, so I'm glad you still like em' and think Folken's not too ooc. Hehehe, that Van and Dilandau scene was hard. I have different versions of that one too. I think Van is doomed to forever be interrupted before he can make a point. He will learn to talk faster lol! Why thank you. I appreciate being called evil (big grin). They had to move Dilandau's stuff so that the room could be properly sterilized. Then they moved things back in as they were cleaned (sheets, clothes...stuff that can be washed) or replaced (the neater art stuff, no coals or paints, just plain paper and firm pencils that don't leave so many shavings behind). Lol, thanks for the review! Take care!
Nikku: Lol, now you know I would never give up on this story, especially when it's so close to having a fork stuck in it (done). Wow, has it been two years? Time flies. I think I started this story the summer before my senior year of college. Lol, a reminder of my old age. I remember writing scenes between Grammar and Shakespeare classes. Dilandau and Van would not appreciate being called adorable, but I have noted that you said they are :). Lol, Allen is gaining a nicer sibling to balance out the hell-brat that is Celena– not that Dilandau's an angel either ;). Allen was a little bit more eager to give the marrow when he found out he would be unconscious for the procedure, but the sample taking...gah! I wouldn't want to do that either. Gah! I'm shuddering just thinking about it lol. Hah! You thought Allen was going to make a move on Van? Really? Why? Oh wait, you said you didn't know. Hmph! Well... I tried to do better with the updating process, but I'm still a bit late. I am trying to do better :). I'm glad you're still enjoying the story! Take care girl! Thanks for reviewing... Oh and the last Battle Royale come out the day after my birthday. Guess what I'm getting? Lol!