Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long to do this. I've been hard at work on my novel and doing graduate work. I am really pushing to have this story done before the new year, and things are looking very optimistic. I've already started the last chapter. That's right the last. This is the REAL second to last chapter. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed up until this point, and I hope you all enjoy the new chapter.
Chapter 30
The water wasn't cold enough to wake her up. Valeska stared at her reflection in a basin of water. Ever since that day– that day she'd found herself in the company of Allen Schezar, she felt like she was walking through a dream. Nothing felt real anymore. Valeska growled and batted the bowl away, not flinching as the heavy dish clattered to the floor and icy water splashed onto her bare feet. She rubbed her eyes, then ran hands through tangled hair, getting it off her face. Where was her hair-band? Her hair had been in her face since– since Schezar. Did that bastard have it?
Gods.
Was she nuts? What would a man want with a woman's hair piece? Though Allen's hair was much longer than hers and he could probably put it to better use. How could someone fight with such a burden sprouting from his head?
Maybe he'd grown used to it. Allen always did have long hair. She liked to pull it when he—.
Shit.
Valeska jumped up from the small fold-out table she sat in front of, knocking her chair down. She kicked the table and watched it strike the tent wall. The cloth flapped open and the cheap, make-shift piece of furniture fell to the ground. If she had kicked it a little harder, it could have gone outside and hit someone.
Damn.
What the hell was wrong with her? She couldn't remember how she'd come to be with Schezar or what they'd been doing. When she'd come to, she was sitting at a grave with Schezar practically breathing down her neck, calling her by that bitch's name. Schezar seemed confused and scared, but not for himself. He'd reached for her like he knew her, looking like he wanted to–to save her or something. Save her from what–who?
And why the hell would he want to save her? Last time she checked, she'd almost killed the bastard twice. Each time, someone got in her way. The first time it was Fanel; the second time it was him.
Dilandau.
She and Dilandau had fought; Dilandau was going to kill her. She'd lost to him twice. Twice. Valeska howled and looked for something else to kick or throw. She ran to her bedding, kicking over the cot then knocking over the tiny table and lantern next to it. Oil spilled onto the dirt and she smirked. Valeska picked up the lantern and walked around her tent, leaving a trail of oil. When the lantern was empty she threw it back to the ground and went to get dressed. She strapped on her armor and slid her sword into its sheath.
"Lord Valeska, we've just gotten the order to move out." Jajuka slipped into the tent. He sniffed the air like a disdainful cat as Valeska chuckled at him.
"Announce yourself before entering my tent, Jajuka." She pushed past the beastman, stepping outside for the first time in two days. The sun was just above the trees and the air was cool. It was a good day for war.
"Lord Valeska, what happened in there?" Jajuka followed her out and stood at her side, blue eyes appraising her.
Valeska quirked a brow at him; she was tired of the beastman staring at her. He tiptoed around her and waited on her hand and foot, all the while looking at her like he was looking for someone else–looking at her like he was worried. But what could he possibly be worried about? She laughed when the thought of Jajuka being worried about her crossed her mind.
"Lord Valeska?"
"I didn't like the furniture. Tell me about our orders."
"We're joining the team invading to the east. Astoria's allies are within the Astorian Borders now and General Adelphos wants us to clear the way to the castle. Lord Valeska, it smells like oil in–"
While Jajuka talked, Valeska found a match in one of her pockets under her overcoat. She struck it on the leather holding the plates of her armor together and tossed it over her shoulder. The match fell against the bottom of the tent and Valeska grinned as it caught fire.
She felt a bit better now. Starting fires was so therapeutic.
"Lord Valeska! The other tents..."
Soldiers burst from their tents, staring at the blaze jumping from Valeska's tent to theirs. They cursed and shouted for water. We're under attack, seemed to be the general consensus. Valeska laughed at them trying to save the camp. They were about to start the war. This place would be desecrated in a matter of hours. Half–hell most– of these people would be dead in a matter of hours. What did this hell-hole matter?
"She did it, the bitch!"
Valeska could feel the eyes on her back and the finger pointing as if they were poking her. She hoped they would charge. Hand-to-hand combat, gods, she hadn't done that in a while. Not since she was training the Dragonslayers. Gatty was her favorite...
Great good gods. It was happening again. She pulled at her hair, not caring that she was getting oil in it. It was dirty anyway. She was dirty. She couldn't recall the last time she'd bathed, like she couldn't recall what had happened after that fight with Dilandau. She was down, he was going to run her through and then there a light– blue light. Blue like Schezar's eyes, blue like Celena's eyes.
Celena. She was tired of thinking about that bitch. Valeska whirled to glare at snarling soldiers. The fire was doused, the smell of smoke and melef oil heavy in the air. Four tents lay in charred, soggy ruins on the ground and men smudged with soot and ash stood panting over them, holding basins and buckets.
Valeska saw a flash of steel. A man pulled his sword on her. He was tall, his dirty blond hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She would take his hair-band after she killed him. The man smiled at her with even white teeth, but when she narrowed her eyes she saw that two of those teeth were false.
"I see you've taken quite a few fists in the mouth. Are you really hungry enough to want to taste mine too?" Valeska drew her sword and licked the clean blade. Jajuka must have polished it for her. He was such a good man servant–beast servant– whatever.
The man sneered. "I'm sick of all the science projects Adelphos keeps handing us. But I must admit, I preferred that demon Albatou over this one. At least he played with a full deck most of the time."
Valeska roared and charged. The man grunted and stood poised to catch her blade. He would die, the fool. She saw an opening immediately. Something caught her from behind. A furry hand chopped at her wrist, disarming her quickly.
Jajuka threw Valeska behind him and faced down the blond man and the group of scowling men behind him."Our orders are to move out, now!"
Valeska heard someone spit. "We don't take orders from beastmen! Move aside and let us get that bitch. My little brother was on that team she got massacred. How is it that she's the only one to come back from that without a scratch?"
Valeska growled, trying to get around Jajuka but the lion-headed creature possessed a strength she couldn't fathom. This man took orders from her, when he could crush her? Ridiculous. "Let me go. They want to fight me, and I feel generous."
"Lord Valeska, our team is to move out within the hour. If you want to be in front, we need to–"
"Let the bitch fight! It's not like we need her on the field. She gets her ass kicked by Albatou every time!"
Valeska tried to push past Jajuka. She wanted her sword. "Jajuka!"
A horn bellowed from above, deep and loud. Valeska looked up to see the floating fortress of a general, not Adelphos's though. It was a sound of warning. The soldiers began to disperse, grumbling and moving to melefs and weapons stations on the outskirts of the camp. The entire ground was fenced in by a ring of Alseides, rolling guns, and explosives. The grass had been torn away by all the equipment dragged over the area, leaving nothing but loose, brown dirt.
Jajuka moved aside and the blond man was still standing there, but his sword was put away. He stared hard at Valeska and Valeska wished Jajuka would remove his paw from her shoulder. "You kinda look like that shit Dilandau, you know? Only he was a hell of a lot prettier than you. Are you related?"
Valeska spat in the man's direction and he laughed.
"You're his jealous sister?"
Valeska's vision was fuzzy. She saw a shape behind the blond man, two shapes. One was pale with silvery hair; the other was taller and blond. They stood on either side of the man, peering at her expectantly.
"Celena," they said. The silver one rolled his eyes and looked impatient, the blond one frowned.
Valeska fought the urge to look over her shoulder for Celena. She felt the girl nearby, but she knew she wasn't behind her, she was... Valeska pulled her hair. "Stop calling me by that bitch's name! I'm Valeska!"
She dove for her sword, grabbing it up and rising to point it at the man. She could run him through right now. He had put his sword away and no one was watching overhead anymore.
The man snorted. "Please. I've got better things to do than bother with you. I'm going to go out on the field to fight a real opponent. Maybe I'll run into your brother. If you're around, I'll show you how real soldiers fight."
Valeska surged forward and the man's eyes grew large as he jumped out of the path of her sword. Blond hair fell loose about his shoulders as a sliced hair tie fell onto his boots. "That could have been your head, dear. If you want to fight a real opponent run into me on the field. We'll forget we're on the same side, Captain– I don't believe I know your name."
"Isaac, Martin Isaac. We'll finish this on the field, Lord Valeska."
"I'll be the one in purple," Valeska called after the retreating Isaac. Hm. She picked the remains of his hair band up and tied her curls back. Well, the man was good for something. "We should leave now if we want to be in front, right, Jajuka?"
"Yes." The beastman looked worried. About what? About who? "Are you sure you're up to this, Lord Valeska. We don't have to fight. We can leave now."
Valeska narrowed her eyes. Jajuka's eyes shone bright as he looked into her eyes. A name was on his lips and if he voiced it, Valeska would kill him. She waited to hear it, but no further sound came from the man. "I want to be in front, Jajuka. That way I'll be able to slaughter as many enemies as I can, and Dilandau and Schezar will be sure to see me. I'll kill them, and then I'll kill Isaac."
Lets see them call me Celena then.
Though, Isaac never called her Celena. Poor man was guilty by association. The figures that had stood by Isaac were gone, but Valeska could still see their transparent faces.
"'You're his jealous sister?"'
She couldn't be. Valeska had no family or past. She was the perfect soldier for those reasons or rather she would be once certain people were dead. "Move out, Jajuka."
"Y–yes sir."
"I think I need to school you boys on the meaning of quarantine."
Folken looked away from the throat culture he'd taken from Gatty and pulled off the face mask he wore. "They're both clean."
Gatty and Miguel sat on a metal table with Marie glaring at them. The redhead tossed him a look over her shoulder, then removed her face mask. "You hear that? You're clean. Lucky shits. Now, when I tell you Shesta and Viole are under quarantine, I mean you are to have no contact with them and if you have to, you are to wear protection. It does not mean walking up and down the halls with them and carrying on conversations in close quarters."
"Dr. Marie, there was yelling coming from Lord Dilandau's room; we all ran to see what it was. It's not like we went to them or anything," Gatty protested.
"And they are the ones under quarantine, meaning they really shouldn't leave their rooms. Shouldn't you be yelling at them?"
Marie sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna yell at them too. I just got to you idiots first."
Folken chuckled and got up to stand beside Marie, letting her lean on him. "Dilandau really cannot afford to get sick right now, so we cannot stress the importance of how clean it needs to stay in that room. If you think it's going to be a problem, we could keep all of you out, but– "
"But?" Miguel asked.
"Dilandau would probably break out to come see you if he thought his only company would be us." Marie rolled her eyes.
"You and Allen Schezar," Miguel snorted. "He threw Van out in favor of Schezar's company."
Folken felt something twist in his stomach and he pretended to cough, so he could cover his mouth and hide his expression. Allen had already gone in to see Dilandau? Had he told him yet and if he did, what had Dilandau said? Maybe Folken should go...
He felt Marie's slender fingers caressing his hand. He gazed down to find her smiling up at him lightly. Leave them alone, her eyes said.
But what if he's taking it badly?
Leave them alone.
Folken sighed, squeezing her fingers.
"Hey, stop it, you two. You're grossing us out," Gatty groaned, sliding down off the table. "If you two being together means goo-goo eyes and hand-holding all the time, then we need a new hallway."
"Would you rather goo-goo eyes and hand-holding or headboards banging against walls?"
Folken choked. "Marie!"
Gatty's eyes grew large before he laughed loudly and Miguel flushed. Marie grinned at them all and shrugged off her lab coat. "What? Do you mean to tell me you haven't thought about sex with me, Folken? I'm a bit insulted, unless you're the traditional type that likes to wait for rings and ceremonies. Personally, I–"
"Miguel, what did you mean about Dilandau dismissing Van in favor of Allen? Van has been to see Dilandau? I didn't know that he knew about Dilandau's illness." Folken almost grabbed Miguel's arm to stop the boy from leaving the room. It was time to change the subject. Marie's grin turned into a smirk. She boosted herself onto the table Miguel and Gatty had vacated.
Gatty and Miguel inched closer to the door.
"He wasn't supposed to know. Lord Dilandau didn't want anybody to tell him, but he figured it out," Miguel said.
Folken blinked. "Why wouldn't Dilandau want Van to know?" Dilandau and Van had grown quite close as of late. Van had even been more tolerant of Folken, which probably had nothing to do with Van forgiving Folken and everything to do with Van pleasing Dilandau.
Miguel sighed and Gatty looked at his watch as if to say to explain would take all day.
"What's with the body language? What don't we know?"
Gatty and Miguel glanced at each other then back at Folken and Marie.
"Van likes Lord Dilandau and he was finally going to tell him today," Gatty said.
Folken blinked. What was so amazing about that? "Yes, Van and Dilandau are friends."
Marie crowed, nearly falling off the table. "Great good gods! And Dilandau's clueless or does he know what Van's gonna tell him?"
"Clueless," Miguel and Gatty said at the same time.
"Both of them are so utterly clueless. It was all we could do not to do it for them," Miguel said.
Folken frowned. He still didn't get it. Van was going to tell Dilandau that they were friends and Dilandau was clueless? Dilandau was a very intelligent person; there was no way something like that would escape his notice.
"According to Viole, Shesta and Miguel practically told Van to plant one on Lord Dilandau and see what he does."
Marie hooted, slapping her knees and tossing her head back. "Gods, and you guys were gonna keep this from me? Tell me when he gets ready. I'll retract the mask rule for a few minutes. I want to see the outcome"
Van was going to plant one on Dilandau and Marie was going to retract the face mask rule for it? What in Gaea were they all talking about–oh. Folken's eyes widened. Ah.
Marie chuckled. "And Folken gets it."
Folken scowled at the woman. "I'll have you to know that I suspected Van of being attracted to Dilandau from the moment Dilandau arrived here, but Dilandau himself threw me off. He told me Van liked Miguel."
Miguel growled. "Van's liked Lord Dilandau ever since the day he escaped from the Vione. He practically told me so himself during the Freid incident."
"When we rescued you?" Gatty asked, poking Miguel. "So you've known for all that time? That's why you were such an ass about Van teaching those classes when we first got here. You thought he was chasing after Lord Dilandau–and he was. Hah! Wait til I tell Shes– through his door with my mask and gloves on."
Marie raised a brow at Gatty. "And just how do you think Dilandau's going to take all this, since you all seem to be pretty supportive of it. Has Dilandau ever done anything that made you think he might be homosexual, heterosexual; anything-sexual? I don't think I've ever seen that kid look aroused by anything other than his sword and Oreades."
Miguel shrugged. "I didn't think so at first, but after watching those two together –well, there's a light that comes on in his eyes when Van's around. Try as we might, that light won't come on for the rest of us."
"He didn't want Van to know he was sick because he thought Van would treat him different. He was really upset when he found out Van knew. I've never seen him quite like that over someone else before."
"And then there's the castle gossip." Miguel rolled his eyes. "That outing Lord Dilandau and Van went on is now considered a date. Rumor has it Van paid for everything and bought Lord Dilandau a lot of expensive gifts that we've yet to see. A maid took them all to Van's room, after she and her friend went through them of course. There are a lot of clothes in the bags that aren't Van's size."
Marie wiped tears from her eyes and snorted in the most unfeminine of manners. "Oh gods, when—when did they go out? I don't remember Dilandau ever telling us he was going out–oh. It was that night before the 'Celena' incident wasn't it?"
Gatty nodded. "Yeah, a lot happened that night– all of it crazy, but none of it crazier than Allen Schezar being Lord Dilandau's perfect donor and him all of sudden wanting alone time with Lord Dilandau. He really looked serious, when he asked us to leave. He said he would come and get us when they were through talking like they would be a while. Any idea what they're talking about Lord Folken? You looked kind of upset when I mentioned it earlier."
Folken blinked. He remembered when people used to go out of their way to comment on how unexpressive his face was. "Ah, that's something for Dilandau to discuss with you, when he's ready."
Miguel looked ready to argue, but Gatty took his arm. "Lord Dilandau's already had something else he would have rather kept to himself get out. Lets leave this one alone. If he wants to tell us, he'll tell us."
Miguel made a face. "Or we'll figure it out ourselves. I'd like to think that we're not as dense as our dear King Van, when it comes to finding answers."
Gatty continued to hold Miguel's arm until the brown haired boy sighed. "Fine." Miguel frowned, rubbing the arm Gatty had held absently. "Dr. Marie, before Gatty and I came in, Viole said he was going downstairs to see what he could do to help out the soldiers. I told him not to go, but he wouldn't listen to me. Is it ok for him to be wandering around right now, if he's sick, or going to get sick, rather?"
Gatty made a soft clucking noise at Miguel and barely dodged the brown-haired boy's elbow.
Marie looked heavenward, tossing her hands up in the air. "Why do we bother? Set a quarantine, tell the boys to stay in their rooms and keep away from each other, and they do what they want. I told you we should have put them all on lock down to keep them in one place, Folken. The dungeons here are really nice, but no, you voted we should let them run wild. That boy." Marie blew wispy bangs out of her eyes. "Well, I suppose he'll come back upstairs, if he starts feeling ill."
"Should I go get him? I bet he went to the training room to rally whatever cadets he could find there. Our little soldiers have been training themselves in our hiatus. They want to fight." Miguel rubbed his chin and peered back at Gatty.
Marie shook her head. "So long as you don't think Viole will jump in an Alseid and join the war effort, he's fine. Stay clear of him. I'm more concerned about Dallet and Guimel. Didn't you say Dallet went to find Guimel over an hour ago?"
Miguel's eyes widened and Gatty looked guilty.
"Shit, forgot about those knuckleheads." Gatty shook his head. "Come on, Miguel, maybe Dallet needs our help or something. Guimel's been–weird lately."
Miguel snorted. "Only lately?"
The boys headed for the door.
"Oi Miguel, don't forget about your ribs. Please be careful," Marie said.
Miguel waved and the door opened and closed.
"Damn kids. I'm having my uterus removed, Folken, so don't look to me for more," Marie muttered. Folken hardly heard her and ignored her disappointment at his lack of reaction. He stared at the closed door, wanting to follow Gatty and Miguel, but he knew he would make a detour to Dilandau's room to listen outside the door. He wanted to know how Allen was telling him and what Dilandau was doing about it. There wasn't any screaming and Dilandau hadn't run in to kill Folken for knowing who Allen was and not telling him right away.
"Stop thinking so hard, you'll wrinkle."
Marie was watching him from her perch on the table. "Dilandau's probably taking it just fine. Sir Allen's a nice guy once you get past the holier than thou attitude, and Dilandau's– well, he didn't seem too bothered by Sir Allen's presence earlier when were all together. They made a connection, Folken. They'll be fine."
Folken sat back on his stool. "Maybe so."
Folken heard Marie sliding off the table and walking toward him. She sat on the stool next to his, facing him and staring at his neck. Folken turned to meet her eyes. "He's not going to forget about you Folken. Allen Schezar will not replace what you are to Dilandau. People have been known to have more than one male sibling. I have four of them."
Folken blinked. Four brothers? Marie never talked about her family or her past, but then again, Folken never asked. He never spoke of his past, not really, many people with Zaibach didn't speak of their pasts. "Marie, you never..."
"Oh please, Folken. When have we had time to talk about ourselves or go on a date like your brother did with– ai. I just had a disturbing thought." Marie blinked and smacked her lips like she'd tasted something terrible. "Let's go back to what you think about Dilandau and Allen forging a relationship. Do you really think he'd throw you aside for tall, blond and handsome?"
Folken stared at Marie, amazed at how she could bounce from subject to subject and somehow manage to keep track of them all. "Well–no, maybe. Allen Schezar has more to offer him than I do. When this is all over, Allen will probably want to take Dilandau away, maybe back to their family home to live, and Dilandau will go with him. It's where he belongs, with his family."
"When the war is over Marie, will we continue to live in Astoria or will we travel to other lands? The Slayers may stay to finish their schooling, but sooner or later they'll leave. Maybe I should return to Fanelia with Van to help him rebuild–to help us rebuild, if he'll have me. I don't know where we'll be–any of us– and I'm afraid of losing what I have, I guess. I'm–I'm comfortable."
Marie chuckled. "You too? I like living in a palace with the heir apparent eating out of my hand. And no matter how much I complain, I love being around the kids, but kids grow up. You're right that none of them are gonna stick around here for long. Dilandau going off with Sir Allen will only show that he's ready to take the next step in his life, and you've raised him well up until that point."
Folken sighed. "Yes, but it's–"
"It's hard," Marie said, "but, it's not like he'll disappear. It's not like any of them will disappear. You said Dilandau belongs with his family. Well, most people are known to have more than one side of a family. He belongs with us too, and even if he goes to live with Allen or Celena, he'll be with us. He'll write, he'll drop in wherever we are at the most inopportune times– he and those Slayers of his. You know those boys would never separate for long. We'll have our hands full and you'll laugh that we ever had this conversation."
"Be happy, Folken. Happy that we can talk about later and make plans. Because of what you've done and what they've done for this war cause, we're free. The people here don't think of us as 'those Zaibach people' anymore. We can do whatever we want and whomever we want."
Folken gasped as Marie's hand fell into his lap. "Marie!"
"What? The kids are gone now."
Folken rolled his eyes. "Two more will burst in, in a minute."
"Probably." Marie sighed, removing her hand. "Feeling better?"
Folken frowned. He thought about Dilandau letting Allen take care of him, trusting Allen, living with Allen. Folken had known Dilandau for three almost four years, and Allen had known him for a matter of months, but time didn't matter when blood came into play. Folken thought about Van who he hadn't known for years. It was time for their blood to come into play. It was time to talk. All of them could talk together maybe. Van liked Allen and Van liked Dilandau so much that he was civil in Folken's presence.
Gods, Van liked Dilandau. Was that cute or disturbing?
"Marie, what was your disturbing thought?"
"Hm?" Her hand was in his lap again and Folken squirmed. "Oh, that your little brothers have the hots for each other."
Folken swallowed. Well, that image definitely wasn't cute. "Marie!"
"You asked."
Viole sat on a rough wooden table watching twenty-five cadets in decrepit melefs bumbling about the minor courtyard. Splinters bit into his ass when he shifted and the legs of the table wobbled. He would have sat in the grass if it weren't for all the screws, nails and spare melef parts littering the ground. He'd rather have a splinter up his butt crack than a nail.
"These suits are pretty bad. You really think General Keller was serious about using them?"
Viole frowned and glanced over at the cadet beside him, Roland, a tall, gangly boy with red hair and freckles. Roland was 2 years older than Viole and raised as a farmer. He was a runaway like Viole, who wanted his chance to fight. Viole had ventured to the training hall after leaving Shesta, Miguel and Gatty to see who he could find, and had been surprised to see Roland there with so many others. He'd thought they would have all run down to the hangar and courtyard to try to get places on the battlefield by then.
"I think General Keller wanted us out of his face," Viole grumbled. It was no secret the generals and some of the other soldiers were nursing some hard feelings about the Dragonslayers sitting this one out. They understood Lord Dilandau was down, but they could not understand why the Slayers wouldn't fight. Staying by their leader's side while he recovered was unreasonable.
Viole's lips twitched. He couldn't be by his leader's side.
Quarantined. Viole couldn't go near Lord Dilandau, because he was carrying some virus Shesta had given him. Damn that Shesta. Miguel and Gatty had spent more time with the blond, but had Shesta shared his germs with them? No. Viole was the lucky one. Dr. Marie said it probably happened on 'Celena' night when Viole had taken a nap in Shesta's lap. Shesta had been the most contagious then. Viole was confined to his room, but he was too antsy to stay there. He used Van's running out of Lord Dilandau's room like a bat out of hell as an excuse to escape his own. The boy king had looked like someone had eaten all the good candy and left him with butterscotch, then told him he fought like a girl. Destroyed, devastated, and betrayed.
Allen Schezar told them all to go away and they had, but Viole didn't go back to his room. He was up, he was dressed, he felt fine–all except for a small tickle in his throat– he had to do something. So, there he was next to the main hangar, sifting through rusty, antiquated melefs with his men to find serviceable units. General Keller said they wanted every melef on castle grounds prepared for battle and had told Viole where the scrap heaps– er storage facilities– were to scrounge for useful machines. The gray haired man had smirked and patted him on the back. "And when you get tired of that, maybe you can grab some of your friends and join the real effort."
"That guy's an asshole, Captain." Roland said.
"He is," Viole said amiably, "but he has some reason to be. He thinks every able man and boy should be fighting, and here we are almost 30 strong playing in the yard." Viole rested his chin in his hands and watched Roland. "Why didn't you join the others going out on the field, Roland?"
Roland's brown eyes were thoughtful as he studied the mid-morning sky. "I wanted to. I really did. This is Gaea's first great war, and all the men who are going to fight in it will have their pages in history, but I think the men who fought under Lord Dilandau will have their own books in history. He's brilliant, and he's leveled the playing field for Astoria to win. After this, he's going to go on and do bigger and better things, and I want to go on with him. If that means I stay out of the Great War and 'play in the yard' because he says so, then so be it, Captain."
Viole chuckled at the glow of adoration on Roland's face. Viole wondered if he used to look like that when Lord Dilandau passed by. Probably, all the other Slayers had.
"Well said," Viole said. "So, you've figured out why he hasn't mobilized the class?"
Roland chewed the left side of his bottom lip, and Viole raised a brow. Viole himself had wondered about Lord Dilandau's motives for training soldiers for Astoria and then not allowing them to be dispatched. True, they were not up to the level of even the Third Stringer Slayers, but it seemed that there was no point in even accepting the task if the products of it weren't to be used. Then, Viole really thought about it.
Lord Dilandau was asked to train soldiers for Astoria, not the Great War. These would be the men that would protect Astoria while it healed. Wars left huge gaping wounds in countries. Cities would have to be rebuilt, lives salvaged, alliances reformed, boundaries redrawn. The military might be in shambles by the end of it all, but it wouldn't fall apart, not with their cadets at the heart of it, young and fresh and trained by the best.
"Our training's not complete," Roland finally said after a long pause. "There's still so much for us to learn from him, from you. We're not the best we can be, not for this War, but maybe for the next. I want a good book to be written about me with over 100 pages. Can't write 100 pages about a guy who can't pilot a melef at full-speed and parries like a girl."
Viole laughed, then covered his mouth as he coughed. Damn that Shesta. "You don't parry like a girl– you shuffle your feet like one. It's like the opening steps of a summer waltz every time you take a step back."
Roland snorted, glancing at Viole with a smirk. "Summer waltz, huh? I knew you were a noble."
Viole pouted. "Aw, is it really obvious? I mean, Guimel and Dallet say it is, but they're not reliable sources."
"Only when you stand, walk, hold utensils, carry clean handkerchiefs–"
Viole was about to cut the other boy off, he'd heard enough, he was a frilly fruitcake, when there was a crash. Viole's attention darted back to his cadets maiming each other in large killing devices– or rather used-to-be killing devices. But then again– Viole stared at panicked Raul and Joss as their melefs lay on top of each other, both struggling to pull the hunks of junk back to their feet– the machines could kill if they fell on someone.
"Oh shit."
Viole stood up on the table, ignoring how it wobbled. "Everybody stop what you're doing!"
The melefs on the little field froze in place. Raul and Joss called to him.
"Captain, what do I do?"
"The joints are locked!"
"Stay calm." Viole cracked his knuckles, studying the positions of the melefs. Joss's melef was on its back with Raul's lying face down over its chest. Both escape hatches were blocked. They needed a forklift, but Viole was sure General Keller would say all the equipment was being used for the war effort and couldn't be spared.
"Ok, who has the locked joints?" Viole asked.
"I do." Raul.
It would be the melef pinning the other down that couldn't move. All right, Vi, use your brain. There was no real forklift available, but Viole knew of something he could use that was better than a forklift. "I'll be right back. You're in charge, Roland. Clear the others off the field and tell those two not to move."
"General Keller's not going to give us a forklift," Roland said with a frown.
"I'm not getting a forklift," Viole grinned. He clapped Roland on the shoulder and jumped down from the table. I'm getting my Alseid. Viole marched across the courtyard in the direction of the main hangar, wishing someone would say something rude to him or glare at him as he approached. So, these guys wanted to treat them like shit for not wanting their leader to feel like shit if they went out there and something happened to them. Well, they were free to kiss his ass.
Gods, Viole prayed nothing happened to those boneheaded cadets that had sneaked into the military lines, but the soldier in him knew that he wouldn't see most of those boys again. Astoria would win, no doubt in his mind or Roland's for that matter, about that. Lord Dilandau had seen to it, Lord Folken had seen to it; Schezar and company and King Van would follow through on it. But it would be a messy win.
"Yo Viole!"
Viole smiled and waved at the soldiers still talking to him as he entered the hangar. Machines rolled past him and heat struck him at the entrance. Leviships were being fueled and melefs were firing up. Smoke from one side of the hangar was a bit on the thick side, and Viole steered clear of it, not wanting to know what happened. It smelled like burnt rubber. Dumbasses probably forgot to move those old boots away from the furnace before they gassed it up.
Viole frowned as he reached the corner the Silvers and Blues were kept in. He was no genius, but there were supposed to be 12 Alseides here. He whirled around to find Gaddes watching him. "What happened to the Silvers?"
"Alloju and Keller each took one and gave the remaining guymelefs to other officials. I think Keller has..."
"Lord Dilandau's. Oh man, he's gonna be so pissed if something happens to those," Viole grumbled, the fire in his gut letting him know that he was pissed as well. Someone else was piloting his Alseid without his permission. "That's theft!"
Gaddes jumped and Viole scowled up at him. "They don't even know how to work them. Only a fool would go into battle using a weapon he hadn't tested yet. They're gonna break our stuff and get blood all over it!"
"I'm loving the concern you're expressing there, Vi. Just so you know, we, me and Reeden and Kio and everybody, told them to leave your melefs alone, but our word over some hot-shot generals' don't mean much and Dryden– he's a mess. There's no talking to him right now. He won't admit it, but he's missing Boss."
Viole put his hands on his hips. "Your Boss is with Lord Dilandau, and there are clueless generals in our Alseides! Do you know what we've been through in those things? They're like family! Oh, just wait until I get back upstairs!"
Viole didn't know what he wanted to do first. Well, he knew he had to go help Joss and Raul first. He'd use his old Blue instead of his kick-ass Silver. Then, he'd run upstairs and– oh wait, quarantine. He wasn't supposed to go near the others–but this was an emergency... and a war.
Viole sighed inwardly. The Silvers were some of the best weapons Astoria had and they weren't being used. Now they were going to be used, albeit badly, but alas, they were machines for war. So long as Keller and Alloju and the other cronies slaughtered at least one or two of Zaibach's people before they got themselves killed, it was ok. But please, please, let them bring his Silver back in large, fixable pieces. Dallet and Lord Folken were great mechanics, not miracle-workers.
"– ok?"
Viole blinked. Gaddes was talking to him. "Huh?"
Gaddes chuckled. "I asked if Boss and Silver Kid were doing all right. They had some things to talk about last time I saw Boss, and he was in a lot of pain from that procedure Lord Folken and Dr. Red did."
Viole flinched just thinking about what Dr. Marie said she'd done to Sir Allen. She'd seemed amused by Viole's white-knuckled reaction. Red Witch indeed.
"Yeah, yeah they're fine, from what I could tell through the door. Sir Allen was telling Lord Dilandau something important and sent Gatty and Miguel out."
Gaddes frowned. "About how long ago was that?"
Viole shrugged. "About an hour, I guess. I came down here right after it. Sir Allen hasn't been down or sent word at all?"
Gaddes shook his head, looking a bit worried. "No one's seen Lord Van either."
Viole snorted. "I saw him right before I came down here too, and I'll let you know he wasn't in a good mood. I figured he'd be down here though."
Gaddes shook his head. "No Van. No Boss."
"No wonder Dryden's a mess." Viole said. "Any Zaibach noise?"
"Nope, but we see their forces, and they have a lot of equipment, but not more than Lord Folken prepared us for. I think Astoria is gonna take this one."
Viole smiled. "Yeah."
"And it'll be thanks to you kids, you know?" Gaddes said, resting a hand on Viole's shoulder. "So don't let those jerks out there give you a hard time and make you feel bad for not being out there. You done enough."
"Thanks." Viole turned away from Gaddes to cough. It was really starting to hurt. Maybe Dr. Marie wasn't being unreasonable when she told him to stay in his room.
"You don't sound good. You all right, kid?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I've got cadets to save. Thanks, Gaddes, for what you said. I really needed to hear that." Viole trotted up to his Blue and climbed the leg, ignoring the slight head-spin as he caught his balance and unlocked the hatch. As the Alseid powered up, Viole relaxed in the piloting chair, shutting his eyes for a moment. After this, he would go back to his room or Shesta's. He sat up and directed the Alseid to walk. Men jumped out of his way and he thought he saw a bushy mop of blond hair being half-dragged, half-carried by a mop of dark hair. Guimel and Dallet?
He walked his Blue out of the hangar and across the courtyard, gazing up at the sky. It was a pretty day, too pretty for fighting, but he doubted anyone could convince Zaibach of that. The day the others had died had been pretty too; the sky had been the same shade of light blue.
This is it guys, the end of Zaibach as a major power on Gaea. It'll be a while before anyone is threatened by them again. It's not enough. Nothing will ever be enough to pay them back for what you lost, but it's what we can do.
The sun seemed to rise higher in the sky, as if to acknowledge Viole and to cast a golden glow on a large bird corkscrewing through the sky. Viole squinted, the closer the bird came, the more it was starting to look like a man with wings.
Geez. Viole pressed the back of his hand against his forehead. Fever. Great.
If he hadn't already said it, he'd say it now. Damn that Shesta.
Van didn't think it was safe to fly back in through his window, so he landed behind a building in the market place about a mile from the castle wall. The usually lively streets of Palas were somber as citizens boarded up store windows and pushed emptied vendor carts into allies. The smells of bread and seafood cooking for early lunches were muted by the smell of war. This place, Van looked around, was lucky. It hadn't been touched by fighting yet, but in a little while, it would be. The tavern Dilandau had dragged Van to caught his eye and he smiled. That night, Dilandau had taught Van how to gamble. He told Van that to play, he had to put something he couldn't part with on the table, because it would make winning more worthwhile.
Van didn't feel he could part with Dilandau.
Van frowned, walking with his hands to his sides. Black and white feathers fluttered from his hair. It was the funniest thing. When he'd been flying, looking down at all the war machines of their allies and of Zaibach, he thought about the war and Dilandau. His wings were black as he envisioned bloodshed and destruction and Dilandau being gravely ill, maybe dying, and Dilandau choosing Allen over him. But, when he turned to head back to Astoria and saw the smoke rising from the castle and a window Dilandau could be looking out of, they'd turned white again. There would be blood and chaos, but there would also be strong men and women ready to clean and rebuild, and Dilandau– Dilandau was too tough to die from a stupid illness, too stubborn. He'd tell Death he was busy and he'd call Her when he was free. And–and why should Dilandau choose Allen over Van? Van spent more time with him; Van made him laugh. Miguel, Shesta and Viole thought Van had a chance.
The more he thought, the faster he flew and the whiter his wings became. It was almost like his wings reflected his mood. Would they turn blue if he was sad? He hoped not. Blue wings wouldn't flatter his complexion. He should ask Folken about it– he would ask him. Dilandau would like for him to ask, and so would Folken, probably. His brother really wanted to make things right, and maybe Van did owe him another chance.
The castle gates were open, guards standing sentry nodding to him as he entered. He saw people doing double-takes at him, and Van glanced down at his bare chest. Well, he supposed he was rather undressed for a stroll.
"Lord Van, General Keller would like a word."
"Lord Van, you're back!"
Van ignored the voices calling him. He walked past some of his students sharpening weapons and strapping on armor, glancing at them sharply. Dilandau wouldn't have given them orders to be out there. The more Van trained with those boys, the more he suspected that Dilandau was prepping them for something else. He would start to have Van or someone else move them into higher training, like melef piloting, and then he would stop, saying there was no time for it now. It was almost like he was saving things for later, after the war.
"Van."
Van jumped as Hitomi planted herself in his path. He had just passed out of the hangar. Where are you going? He heard people calling after him. They needed Escaflowne.
Van needed something else. Van needed to tell Dilandau how he felt, no more waiting. He'd lay it out on the line, put all his cards on the table with his heart as the wager. And after he won, or lost, he'd come back down and join the troops. It sounded crazy, he felt crazy, but he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else, if he didn't do this now. He'd be damned if Allen Schezar took another person from him, because he didn't speak up in time.
"Van, where–?"
"Can't talk now, Hitomi. Later. After–after everything." Van pushed by the girl, not missing the teary-eyed look she shot him and jogged toward the stairs. He took them by two's, his heart skipping a beat every time a foot came down on a step. Please don't pass out. Please don't pass out.
The Slayer hallway was empty as Van walked to Dilandau's room. His steps were slow and measured. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. He entered the doorway, gazing at the curtain separating him from the room. There was a small table loaded with folded white garments, gloves and small white cloths with thick string attached. Allen had been wearing one of the white garments and had a white cloth over his mouth. Was Van supposed to wear this stuff too? He touched a cotton smock.
"If you're coming in, come in."
Dilandau. Van jumped at the sound of his voice. He sounded impatient, but Van couldn't gauge Dilandau's mood on just that. He always sounded impatient. Van glanced at the white garments one last time. Wish me luck, he thought to them and parted the curtain.
"I told you, you didn't have to come back to tell me goodbye. Dryden's probably having– Van."
Dilandau was standing at the window. The sun streamed in, off-setting the silver of his hair and encasing him in a god-like glow that made Van backtrack through the curtain. The drapes swished back in place, shielding Van from Dilandau. Oh shit. Oh gods.
"Van?"
Oh hell.
Van came through the curtain again. He gulped and walked right to Dilandau who stood staring at him oddly. Van stopped inches from the other boy, eyes taking him in. Dilandau didn't seem as tall as he usually did, probably because he wasn't wearing his boots and Van was. He wore thin blue slippers, blue silk pajamas and a matching robe. Dilandau even slept in style.
"Dallet bought it for me," Dilandau said softly, following Van's eyes to his garments.
Van nodded, licking his lips nervously and finally looking up to meet Dilandau's eyes. Dilandau's lids were down and sooty lashes hovered over his cheeks. "Dilandau, I–"
"I didn't want you to find out about this like you did, Van."
Van blinked. Dilandau's eyes opened, the red orbs serious. Find out about what? Van's eyes went to the slim pole balancing atop a flat, four-wheeled cart, a bag of fluid dangling from a hook on top of it. A thin tube ran from the bag to Dilandau, disappearing under his shirt. Van swallowed hard. What if Dilandau told Van he was going to die? Van wouldn't believe it unless Dilandau said so.
"I didn't want to tell you, because I liked what we had. You didn't treat me like the others do. I was probably wrong not to tell you, but I don't care. If I could keep you from finding out, I would, because I never wanted you to look at me–like that."
Van found his voice. "Like what?"
"Like you are now. Like–like you–" Dilandau stopped, eyes narrowing in confusion. "Van?"
"I want to say something to you."
Dilandau frowned. "I'm not dying anymore. If you want to give me a pity speech, save it. I'm going to be fine."
"I don't want to give you a pity speech." Van almost laughed in relief. Dilandau wasn't dying–anymore.
Dilandau's frown deepened. "Then what do you want? Why are you looking at me like–?"
No words! Van had no words! Shit. Damn. Dilandau leaned closer to him, trying to get a closer look at his eyes. Maybe he thought Van was drunk. Say something, say something– Van moved forward, not thinking, shutting his eyes. His lips met something soft and warm. His nose brushed Dilandau's as he moved his tongue over Dilandau's closed lips. They were smooth and salty. Van's hand came up to rest on Dilandau's cheek as he pulled back, studying Dilandau's expression. Dilandau's eyes were closed, but they opened as Van moved away.
They stared at one another. Van trembled, not knowing what to do next, but encouraged by the fact that Dilandau hadn't hit him. The taller boy blinked a few times, his eyes wide and curious, not disgusted or angry. Van licked his own lips and moved without thinking again, pressing his mouth against the thin scar he'd made on Dilandau's cheek. His hand still rested on the other side of Dilandau's face, holding it in place.
He pulled back, watching, waiting. Dilandau's lips parted, but he didn't speak. The confusion in his eyes was slowly fading and a pale hand came up to touch the hand Van had on his face. "Van, why–?"
"Because I'm crazy about you, Dilandau. I think I'm in love with you and everything about you. I wanted to tell you this for a long time, but– but just in case you didn't– I didn't want you to treat me different. But I can't be around you anymore without you knowing."
Van didn't think it was possible for Dilandau's eyes to get any larger, but they did. White fingers tightened over his, the grip painful. "You're what, Van? What did you say?"
Van's stomach flipped. "I'm crazy about you, and I want you to be more than just a friend. Could you–can you see yourself maybe wanting the same from me one day?"
"I– "
Dilandau was stuttering. Van had made him stutter. Van wanted to giggle. Dilandau wasn't pushing him away, wasn't calling for his Slayers, wasn't laughing at him, wasn't looking violated. He just looked– thoughtful, perhaps a bit dazed, and overall, very surprised.
Van wondered if he should kiss him again. That had been nice. Dilandau smelled wonderful up-close and he liked the tickle of Dilandau's hair ghosting his forehead.
"There's no rush, Dilandau. I just– I had to let you know."
Dilandau blinked again and took a breath. "Van..."
"All right, this time I'm really leaving. Your friends are with Folken. They've found your missing Slayers, and one or a group of them will be coming in later, after Dr. Marie tests them. Really, that woman. She says the most vile things."
Van tensed and Allen stepped into the room decked out in the white garments at the door. "She– Van! What are you doing? Get away from him!"
Dilandau started, grabbing onto his pole to catch his balance. He took his hand from Van's, eyes going from Van to Allen. Van whipped around to face Allen. The blond man's face was flushed as he stalked toward Van. He grabbed Van by the arm with a grip strong enough to bend steel and yanked him forward into his chest.
"Dilandau, go wash your hands and face, please."
With that, Allen proceeded to manhandle Van out of the room. Van struggled, but was surprised to find he was no match for Allen in a rage. Dear gods, he used to think he could take this man in hand-to-hand combat with a bit more practice–hell, he'd need more than practice. Pushing Allen was like pushing a mountain– he didn't budge. Van was locked in his grip, but he was able to turn his head to look over Allen's shoulder. Dilandau stood in the same place, not watching them. He ran a hand through his hair and touched his fingers to his lips, still seemingly thoughtful.
Van grinned. Eat that Allen.
They were outside the room, Allen throwing Van out in front of him and closing the door behind them. "Van, you cannot enter that room without putting on the proper gear. Dilandau could get very sick from whatever germs you're carrying on your body right now."
Van frowned. "He said he was fine."
"Dilandau would say he was fine if his head was falling off, you idiot. If he gets sick, because of your carelessness..." Allen trailed off, blue eyes aflame. "What were you doing? You were touching him."
Van's grin grew wider. His cheeks were starting to ache. "I kissed him, and then I told him how I felt."
Allen paled and he ran his hands though his hair before ripping the white cloth from his face. "You–you– oh you idiot. You put your mouth on him? You–!" Allen pulled off the gloves, tucking them in the pockets of the smock and took a menacing step toward Van. "You are not allowed in that room alone ever again. Do you understand me?"
Van snorted. "I understand that you've gone mad. You can't tell me where I can and can't go. Only Dilandau can tell me not to come in his room, and you didn't hear him telling me to leave, now did you?"
"He probably didn't know how to react to you, you clueless fool. I can't believe you– "
"You can't believe I what– made a move on a person I'm attracted to before you could? Was that your plan all along? You wait until I seem to like someone and right when I get close to saying something, you snatch them up?"
Allen choked. "Snatch them up? Van, what are you–?"
"First it was Hitomi. You knew I liked her, but that didn't stop you from taking her from me. And now that I've got Dilandau, here you are again!"
Allen stared for a moment, eye twitching. He covered his eyes with a large hand and massaged his temples slowly. He gave a deep sigh and removed his hand. Blue eyes solemnly regarded Van and Allen's back straightened. "If this is about Hitomi, fine. She– I'll give her to you. You are right. You were interested in her first, and I was wrong for taking her from you. Winning her heart should be easy enough; you won't even need my help. Take her and leave him alone."
Van huffed. "Take her and leave him alone? You'll give her to me? Who the hell do you think you are, Schezar? Who died and made you think you have any right to–?"
"My mother!" Allen shouted. "Gods! Van, Dilandau's my brother!"
Van gaped. "Allen, have you gone crazy?"
"Yes!" Allen looked at wits' end. He ripped off the smock and threw it to the floor. Van would have said something, but the brightness of Allen's eyes threw him off. Dear gods, was the man about to cry?
"What's going on out here?" Miguel and Gatty stepped into the hall. They came from Folken's lab. Both boys watched Van and Allen warily.
Allen cleared his throat. "Can–can one of you check on Dilandau and make sure he's washing his face?"
Gatty nodded.
"Van?" Miguel asked.
Van sighed. His moment with Dilandau was over. He knew he'd never get Dilandau alone again today, but Van had made his point and from Dilandau's reaction, maybe he had his answer.
"I'm going downstairs to get Escaflowne ready. Tell Dilandau I meant what I said, and that there's no rush."
Miguel and Gatty stared at him for a moment before little smirks appeared on their faces. "Marie's gonna be disappointed."
Van frowned in confusion.
"She wanted to watch."
Van heard the sound of a palm slapping a forehead and looked to see Allen storming toward the stairs.
"What's wrong with him?" Gatty asked.
Van shrugged. "He's crazy."
If he hadn't walked away right then, Allen would have committed high treason. People were put to death for throttling monarchs. Even if they were ungrateful little brats that–ai. Allen caught himself. Van was not a little brat. Up until that morning, he was a good boy. Now he was the pervert seducing Allen's 15-year-old brother. Dilandau wasn't ready for that yet, wasn't up to it, and he didn't even know if he liked boys. He could like girls. Allen liked plenty of girls. Van himself said Dilandau had never thought about relationships with any gender, so why let Van decide who Dilandau liked? Miguel was the most intelligent friend Dilandau had– or rather he used to be. The way he was smiling at Van led Allen to believe he'd encouraged Van's detestable behavior earlier.
He'd kissed him. Van had put his mouth on his little brother. Gods, where? Allen pulled at his hair, thinking about Van's lips roaming Dilandau's skin with Dilandau too stunned to pull away. Dammit, Allen shouldn't have left the room. Folken hadn't been able to tell him anything helpful about how to get Celena to come to her senses. If he hadn't been wasting his time with in that godsforsken lab...
"Allen!"
Allen's shoulders tensed and he quickened his pace at the sound of Dryden's voice.
"I've been here, looking out for you all morning, and now that you've finally come you're running from me! Why?"
Allen stopped, not turning, but listening to Dryden's stumbling footsteps coming from behind him. Great good gods, was the man drunk? Hands fell over his shoulders, slipping down to be around his waist and Allen flinched, feeling the ghosts of bone drills and needles over his flesh. Though he'd been unconscious for the procedure, his body was not, and it wanted revenge for his getting to take a nap through it.
"I'm a failure Allen. Not fit to be king. Not fit to be a husband. Not fit to be a man!"
Allen looked heavenward as the back of his shirt was soaked through with Dryden's drunken tears. He supposed he should be enjoying this. Allen could hold this display over Dryden's head for a very long time, but he found himself wishing he still wore the gown he'd ripped off. Allen clamped down on Dryden's hands and wrenched them from around his waist, then turned to face the heir apparent.
Dryden's ridiculous ponytail was gone, as were his stupid glasses. Dryden's brown eyes were blurry and shadowed, his face haggard. He looked like he'd been up all night, and probably had with the generals– alone. Allen shook his head. Dryden had never been left to swim with those pirana on his own. Dryden was all cheek and wit, but when it came to experience, he had none. Those generals pretended to listen to him out of respect for King Aston, but really what they were listening for was Folken, Dilandau, whoever Dilandau sent in his place, or even Allen to confirm their plans. Soldiers respected soldiers and military strategists, not spoiled, overgrown boys who had kingdoms handed to them by Daddy.
"Dryden, get off the floor."
"Tell me we're not gonna lose this, Allen, tell me!"
Dryden took hold of his hands, his grip cold and sweaty.
"Astoria won't lose this," Allen said calmly. He squeezed Dryden's hands. "Everything is in our favor, because of the decision you made to accept Lord Folken and the Dragonslayers into our ranks."
It was because of this man– Allen scowled at the blubbering buffoon on his knees before him– that his family was about to be reunited, that he'd found family he didn't even know he had. Allen should bow and thank him, but somehow he couldn't. Not now. "Our victory today will be your crowning achievement. You helped prepare the field."
The sobs reduced to tiny sniffles and Dryden scrubbed at his face with his sleeves. He peered up at Allen, eyes half-glazed. "You really think so?"
Allen nodded. "No one else would have had those men here. Other men, like myself, would have turned Lord Folken out and sent an army after the Dragonslayers. It took your open mind to bring them here and encourage us to forget the past–" or in my case remember it– "and look toward our future. You couldn't learn that growing up studying under a king or out on the field spilling blood. Your gift is your own."
Dryden swallowed hard and looked at his hands. "I don't know what I'm doing, Allen. I let you and Folken and a child handle things and I rode your tailcoats, and you're telling me I make a good king because I did?"
"You make a good king because you knew who to trust. You put your country in good hands. You ignored everyone who called you a fool for doing what you did and made them eat their words."
Dryden's eyes shone. He looked so very young at that moment. Too young for all of this. Too young for Allen to hate. Allen sighed and pulled Dryden to his feet slowly. "Get off the floor, Lord Dryden. It isn't very becoming of a leader to be seen kneeling to his soldier."
Dryden rose, legs trembling, face pale. He was going to pass out or be very ill soon and Allen wanted to do this before he regretted it. Allen released Dryden's hands and bowed to the man. He would have knelt, but he didn't think he'd be able to get back up. Ai, his back ached. "King Aston watches us all from his tower. You should go and watch with him from the vantage point of a king, the king."
Dryden's lips trembled and more tears threatened to spill. Allen straightened and stared at the man nervously. He looked ready to– ugh! A wet, sloppy kiss was pressed against his cheek and a heavy heir apparent fell against his chest. "Thank you, Allen. I knew–I knew I always liked you, even if your cologne smells like women's perfume and you spend longer on your hair than I do."
Allen rolled his eyes, staggering a bit under Dryden's weight. Two guards emerged from the shadows, both grinning sheepishly at Allen before saluting. "Uh–we–uh..."
"Lost him?"
"Yessir." The men were young, boys really. Allen sighed, pushing Dryden into their arms and watching the two boys wrestle him into a more dignified position.
"Take him to his chambers and sit on him."
"Sir!"
Allen shook his head, watching the three stagger away. Why did everyone seem so young today? He continued on down the hall, going down the flight of stairs that would lead him to the main hangar.
"Sir Allen!"
"Sir Allen, the generals..."
"Boss!"
Allen walked past anxious soldiers calling his name to his men, standing around the Crusade. It sat in a line of four other leviships to be launched from this site. Gaddes stepped forward, dark eyes narrowed in concern. "You all right?"
Allen nodded. "Just a bit sore, but I'm fine to fight."
"Silver Boss?"
Allen smiled. "He's going to be fine too. We're going to be fine."
Gaddes blinked, then laughed, reaching out to slap Allen on the back, but Allen stepped to the side of him. If Gaddes slapped him on the back the war might have to postponed until Allen could feel his legs again. Gaddes raised a brow and Allen shook his head. "I'm fine."
"Got any orders for us, Boss?" Kyo asked.
Allen looked to his crew, scruffy and crude, but the best he could ever ask for when he needed a hand. "Yes, and they are very basic ones. Get Zaibach."
Laughter and battle yells chorused throughout his ranks and Allen felt a light hand on is shoulder. Gaddes stood beside him. "What about orders for yourself, Boss?"
Allen glanced at the dark-haired man–his friend, his best friend. "My orders are to find a purple guymelef."
"Valeska?"
"Celena," Allen said firmly. "I'm bringing Celena home."
"You need help?" Gaddes asked. "I think these guys can more than handle Zaibach with all those allies out there."
Allen chuckled and looked to his men, watching them boarding the Crusade, crowing and tossing supplies around while enacting sword fights with empty sheaths. "I think I can handle Celena, Gaddes. You, on the other hand, have your hands full."
Gaddes followed Allen's eyes and rolled his. "Can I find Celena while you handle them?"
Allen's chuckle turned into an outright laugh and it felt good. Forget Van. Forget Dryden. Forget Zaibach. This was about family, and part of it was right here with him, a piece was upstairs, safe, and another piece he was about to retrieve.
If you really are watching us, Mother, then I know you're smiling. Your house will be full of children again soon and your garden full of laughter.
Author's Note: Well, there it is. Next chapter is the last and then an epilogue. So... what's the verdict? Like it, hate it; don't care either way? Any way, let me know. Please review :)