Dragon Kin

Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne or its characters. This is all done for fun.

NOTE: I haven't updated in ages and I feel slightly frustrated about it but luckily, I haven't really left anyone hanging with this story. I still have plans for this story but I've been too busy of late to be able to write much.

Still, I figured today would be a good time to post something new since it's Folken's birthday and this is his first POV chapter. The story's still very much in the early stages with each character still figuring out their place in this new order. I'm really excited and a bit impatient about what comes next but I need to put everything in place before the fun stuff begins.

Not to say that these first chapters aren't fun in themselves. Every character has a different entry point into the main plot as well as different reactions to their new circumstances. And as exhausting as it always is to explore Folken's POV, it's a relief to write something not so tragic about him for a change.

Anyway, enough of my rambling. It might take a while for me to post the next chapter. I'm setting myself a deadline for March 18, supposedly the date of Eries' birthday so you know whose POV that chapter will explore. Hopefully, I'll be able to hold myself to it.

And once the first four chapters are done, things can finally get moving. But I hope you enjoy this chapter nonetheless.

Happy birthday, Folken!

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Folken Fanel was no stranger to the machinations of Fate.

And yet, even he was surprised by his current predicament.

The last thing he remembered was falling, falling hard and fast after having killed Emperor Dornkirk and having a shard of his own sword embedded in his chest. At that moment, he had been certain that he would meet his death, that the doomed fate his blackened wings had warned him of was finally upon him. And he had resigned himself to it, accepted that there was no other way for this to end.

But apparently, he had been wrong.

Because there he was, somehow still breathing, the pain in his chest and the throbbing of his head proving to him that he was somehow still alive. He was still in a bit of a daze and he suspected that he had been drugged somehow. The sensation was not unfamiliar.

The sense of deja vu was overwhelming. sHe almost expected to be lying on an operating table somewhere, just like he had been ten years ago. Every near death experience seemed to lead to this for him.

But as he recovered some clarity and composure, he realized that he was not in any kind of clinical or scientific facility. He seemed far from any human civilization, lying in a grassy clearing in the middle of the woods. A chill came over him when he realized how similar this setting was to where he had been lying in a pool of his own blood after failing the succession ritual.

It was only then that he noticed his mechanical arm had been disconnected and tossed haphazardly to one side of the clearing, discarded like a piece of rubbish. Seeing this metal contraption, a part of him in its own way for the past decade, so easily removed, was unsettling at the very least and he could not imagine how it had been extracted from his body without causing any serious injury. In its place, he was shocked to find a real arm, flesh and bone, though he still felt no sensation in this new appendage.

He stared at his new arm and though in ever way it resembled a human one, he was just as suspicious about it as he had been when he had first laid eyes on his metal one. He had witnessed many wonders in his time but this, along with his own inexplicable survival, was something he would never have imagined possible.

"You need to have more faith in the unknown."

Folken turned his head to where the strange voice had come from but only saw shadows deep in the woods. Nothing stirred among the trees but Folken was certain that he sensed an ancient presence there. He was on his guard but knew that he had no weapon with which he could defend himself against an unseen foe. Besides, at that moment, after all he had seen, he was more curious than afraid, a tendency that had often gotten him in trouble over the years.

"Such faith has not always worked in my favor," Folken remarked calmly, his eyes still focused on the shadows in the in trees. There was something oddly familiar about this enigmatic voice but he could not quite put his finger on it.

"Fair enough," the voice replied, a hint of amusement in its tone.

"I suppose you aren't going to reveal yourself until the right moment," Folken commented as he raised himself to a sitting position, testing the strength of his new arm.

"I see you're in no hurry to get answers which is just as well," the voice continued, "though rest assured, you will receive them in time. As well as explanations for your current predicament. Though I suppose I could give you a hint as to at least what we've done with your arm."

Folken's eyes narrowed and he instinctively glanced at his new arm, and slowly moved his fingers, trying to get accustomed to flesh and bone instead of metal.

"What was taken from you, we have restored," the voice declared, as Folken continued to stare in wonder at his new arm.

"It seems only fair," the voice added, "since it was one of our kind who took it from you in the first place."

Folken would have leapt to his feet had he had the strength to do so. He finally realized what had been troubling him about the voice from the very beginning. Some instinct had made him wary about this ineffable benefactor and now that he knew that it was a dragon, he was even more on his guard. And even more intrigued.

"Why?" was all he managed to ask though he had a myriad of questions.

"All in good time," the dragon replied, and Folken was hardly surprised by this response, "Suffice to say that the blood of Atlantis is a precious resource, well worth preserving. After all, there are few enough of you left in this world and some already have great destinies to be fulfilled."

Folken knew they were referring to Van and he could not help but feel a twinge of pride for his younger brother. And the prospect of surviving his fate meant there was a chance he would be able to see Van again someday. It was definitely worth pondering on, as were a number of other possibilities.

"And some of us have much to atone for, I suppose you want to say," Folken added somberly.

The dragon said nothing but Folken knew his comment had been duly noted.

With some effort, Folken managed to stand up and after taking a deep breath, he unfurled his wings. To his dismay, he saw that they had not reverted to their original color but he felt a glimmer of hope when he noticed that they were significantly lighter than they had been when he had fallen. The feathers were now dark gray, the color of ash.

"The transition is not immediate as you can see," the dragon explained, "but the shadow that had tainted your wings will soon fade and they will eventually turn white again. That much is certain."

"But in the meantime?" Folken asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

"In the meantime," the dragon replied, "you will have much to keep you occupied. We have many plans for you and given your talents, we know that we will not be disappointed."

Folken bowed humbly though there was some tentativeness in his manner. "I only hope to be of use."

But the dragon sensed his hesitation. "You have doubts."

"I will not deny it," Folken said frankly.

After all, he had been a pawn in a powerful being's plans before and he did not relish the prospect of being one again. He had been deceived into devoting years of his life to a cause he thought was worthy and it had not turned out at all well for him. And somehow, even with the chance of a future, he was wary of being anyone's servant once more. He shuddered as he recalled those years, already fast becoming memories. His arm had been replaced before but at what cost?

"Rest assured, this will not be like the last time," the dragon said, though his grave tone suggested that this was more of a warning than a reassurance.

"At the very least," the creature added in a lighter tone, "the mission we have in store for you will be infinitely more interesting and significantly less destructive."

"Well, that's a relief," Folken commented dryly.

The dragon was determined to be mysterious and would not reveal the details of what it had planned for Folken and the latter knew that it would be futile to try and demand any particulars from such a powerful creature. He still was not completely sure what he was up against but he knew enough not to question what was before him. There would be time enough later to discover more about what he was about to do and he could only hope that this time, he would not have much cause to regret anything.

In the end, Folken knew he didn't have much of a choice. And having been given an unexpected opportunity, possibly his last chance at life, he was determined to take it.

And all things considered, he was grateful. He was keenly aware that whatever this development was, it was more than he deserved. He looked more appreciatively at his new arm and began to stretch it a little bit, resolving that he would be more discerning about his use of it in the future.

He barely glanced at the remnants of the metal arm on the ground, a reminder of so many misguided decisions. That chapter was definitely closed.

"You have many a heavy task ahead of you, Son of Fanelia," the voice declared gravely.

Folken nodded with conviction. "I am ready for my punishment."

"You are far too serious." Another hint of amusement.

"You might be repaying a debt, but I think you will find much to enjoy about your new mission."