Forcefully, the tavern door slammed behind Celena firmly, as if it had a will of its own. She flinched slightly at the loud crack, squeezing her hands together awkwardly to relieve some of the initial shock. A wispy breeze lingered around the surrounding area, drawing back her fine silvery hair away from the contours of her face. The crisp air glided across the rest of her features like a cool silky cloth. It was a pleasant feeling, but somehow Celena found it very unnerving.
Flicking a few loose strands of honey locks irritably away from her indifferent green eyes, Hitomi sighed and quietly found herself a spot on the earthy tavern wall to rest her back on. Turning her attention casually to Celena, she adopted a sour look. "You're really becoming a problem, you know."
Celena huffed indignantly. "Well pardon me for bringing up that my brother wants to thank you for helping me out, and the fact you mysteriously 'disappeared' as soon as he showed up." She managed a dry laugh when Hitomi stared at her flatly, arms folded.
"Is that all you have to say? Good. Now I can get back to work." Hitomi shifted her weight forward, pushing herself off the wall. She was only able to take one step forward before Celena interrupted her.
"Don't go just yet." Celena's eyes widened as she stepped in front of Hitomi. "Why are you upset? Was it what I said inside the tavern?"
Hitomi narrowed her eyes sharply. "Unlike you, I don't like drawing attention to myself. Don't bother yourself with me anymore. If you'll excuse me, there are some tables that need my attention."
A hurt frown glossed over Celena's pouting mouth. "Why are you acting so cold? I wanted to thank you. Is that really so horrible?"
Hitomi inhaled deeply, holding her hands out, palms away from herself in mock surrender. "Fine. I accept your thanks, your brother's thanks on your behalf, hell and even the thanks of any other idiot who wants to bloody thank me. Happy now?"
"You're unbelievable," Celena cried, her fluttery lashes blinking, holding back the stinging sensation creeping over her. "And to think that I thought of you as a friend. Maybe it was wrong of me to think that way." With a heavy heart, Celena lifted on of Hitomi's hands up, and pressed a single coin into her rough palm. "Here, take this. For the wine," she said, voice soft.
Hitomi swallowed hard, shuddering inwardly as she felt a sickening lump travel down her throat. She watched with an icy feeling buried deep in the back of her gut as Celena retreated down the grey desolate street. Gravely, Hitomi opened her palm. There, staring up at her was a fat gold coin. "You didn't," she growled, clenching her fist tightly around the mark again. The gold coin in her hand was enough to pay for the wine and buy about two dresses at the market place. Expensive dresses.
"So you're trying to make me feel guilty are you?" Hitomi whispered to the quiet street. Her grip around the coin tightened, biting deeper into her palm. "I don't need your damn charity." Eyes stinging, she raised her arm up, fingers fumbling for a better fit around the coin. Poised on hurling the coin through the air, Hitomi took two powerful strides forward and abruptly stopped. She found herself unable to follow through with her original intentions. Regarding the coin silently, her eyes observed every groove carved intricately into it. Was there some sort of barrier that prevented her from throwing the bothersome coin that she didn't know about?
Remorse perhaps?
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With her feet trotting dutifully on the hard floorboards, Hitomi shuffled back into the tavern. Yukari gave her an odd glance as she brushed by her with a jug of water in one hand and a tray full of dirty plates in the other. Hitomi ignored her. Instead, she weaved her way through the tables to the back where Rose was sifting through platters of food. Clearing her throat hoarsely, Hitomi took a cautious step forward. At the unexpected sound, Rose bolted up, her hands automatically jumping to protect her throat. When she realized who it was, her hands moved from her throat to the loose strands of hair surrounding her bun in embarrassment.
"For heaven's sake, girl! Don't scare me like that." Rose shook her head in slight disbelief before returning to her search. "Well, what do you want? Do you have another order for the cook to fill?"
Hitomi fingered her apron lightly. "That lady who ordered the wine left. She left me some money."
"Oh, here." Rose smiled with understanding. "I keep the money in my apron." Her skirts swayed rhythmically, coins chiming as they clinked together.
Nodding, she extended her hand and dropped the fat coin into Rose's outstretched palm. With a swish of her skirts, Hitomi turned out of the kitchen and marched down the hall.
Rose blinked at the coin with wide eyes. "Wait a minute, Hitomi." Obediently, Hitomi peeked around the corner. "This is what she gave you for one glass of wine? She didn't order anything else? Like a buffet?"
"No."
"Wow. She certainly left you a generous tip." Amused, Rose dropped the coin into the front pouch of her apron. "Here, Hitomi!" Rose smiled warmly as she held out her hand with a flourish. Metal coins clinked together delicately.
Hitomi shook her head, her short honey hair rippling softly. "No. Give it to Yukari."
Skeptically, Rose looked at her with one of her eyebrows raised. "It's your tip. Here, take it." The coins in her hand jingled, taunting her. Hitomi squared her jaw.
"I don't want the tip," she stated firmly.
"Nonsense girl. Now you take these and get back to work," the tavern owner scolded. Stalking up to Hitomi, she placed the coins into her hand before she could argue further. "Stubborn child." Folding Hitomi's fingers over her palm with her one free hand, Rose briskly walked off.
Hitomi heaved a sigh, rolling the coins over in her palm thoughtfully. They were still warm from being in Rose's apron.
I would have been better off leaving that silly girl in the forest. What a pain.
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"Celena, you can't keep doing this," a tall figure whispered sadly, pausing to straighten a picture hanging off the wall. The snowy forest scene sat placidly, peering at him from its spot on the wall. Sometimes he wished everything were as calm and serene as the Fanalian forest after the first snowfall. He knew such thoughts were fool-hardy, but he could still hope, couldn't he?
"I'm sorry, brother. I won't let it happen again."
The man rubbed his temples with a gloved hand, sighing wearily. "I really would like to believe you. Trust me, I would. But, I think we both know that it will happen again."
The young woman seated in the desk in front of him sat quietly with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her lips twitched. She remained silent.
"Tell me, have I really been that horrible to you? We only have each other now, Celena. Ever since father-" The man shuddered, trying to keep all his unwanted memories at bay.
"-left and mother passed away," Celena murmured, picking up where he left off. "Allen, please don't blame yourself. I won't stand for it."
Numbly, Allen nodded. "War is becoming more of a reality each passing day, Celena. If you haven't realized that yet, now you know."
Celena blinked at him with large eyes. "I don't exactly know what you mean by that," she confessed truthfully.
Allen pressed his eyes closed for a moment. "What I mean is, there will be no more leisure strolls for you. From now on, you're to have an escort with you everywhere you go. I mean it too."
"But-"
"This isn't a debate," he interjected, enraged. "You are lucky that Gaddess happened to see you last night wandering the streets unescorted. How could you have been so foolish? Anyone could have made off with you, and what would I do then? Mourn for your loss?" He ran his fingers over his head, rearranging the part on his golden head
"Allen," she murmured sadly.
He raised his hand. "Enough. All you need to remember is that you need to have an escort. The behavior you're displaying now cannot continue. I won't let it continue. Good-night, Celena," Allen said sharply, taking his leave before Celena could say another word, leaving her to think about her actions alone in the dimly lit room.
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Gritty clumps of soil ground against four large misshapen wooden wheels. Dust flicked up and slowly drifted towards the crisp late spring sky, creating a semi-transparent blanket across the road. Hitomi had never seen this much dust in the air in her entire life, since there was a distinct lack of traffic in the small remote village she spent the better part of her life in. She marvelled at the lopsided billows of dust around her, covering her mouth and nose with a hand.
"Come on, Hitomi. It's not that bad." Yukari laughed from her high seat at the front of the wagon. With reins firmly in her grasp, Yukari made a clicking noise. The wagon veered to the right sharply. Hitomi found herself struggling to keep herself from toppling over.
"It's bad when you have to breathe it in," Hitomi pointed out, scowling under her breath.
Yukari sighed. "Whatever. We're almost there anyways."
"I thought you said it was on the other side of the city." Curiously, Hitomi glanced at her riding companion.
"I know. We're taking a short-cut," the proud redhead announced. "We'll be there in no time at all! I can't see why Rose made you come with me. I don't exactly need any help."
Hitomi coughed dryly into her fist and shrugged.
"Then again, things will go quicker if there's two people loading the barrels on the wagon."
The chaotic churning of the wheels was getting on Hitomi's nerves. The squeaking bothered her. Moments later, the cart turned abruptly again. Hitomi was roughly thrown into Yukari by accident, caught off guard.
"Geez, stay still will you? How am I supposed to drive with you banging into me?" Yukari grinned brightly, her shrill laughter sounding through the air. "Why are you so quiet? Don't sweat it. It's alright to smile."
Hitomi sternly glared at her counterpart, brushing dust off her skirts that had accumulated there.
"Never mind then." Yukari whistled, and decided a change of subject was in order. "I know you've probably already been asked this, but why did you come to Fanalia? What did you come to see? How long do you plan on staying?"
"I wanted to see the castle grounds, I guess. They say some of the statues in the castle gardens were influenced by the dragons that live around these parts," Hitomi half-lied. "I don't know how long I'm staying." She itched to ask Yukari why she inquired, but she kept her mouth clamped shut.
"Oh really? Remind me to take you down there to check things out there sometime. My cousin is actually at the castle now. I'm sure we'd be able to get in." She punctuated her sentence with a nod.
"O-okay," Hitomi stuttered.
"It's not a problem, really. I have to go there myself to visit him. It's been ages since I've last seen him. He sent me a letter a month ago telling me that he'd be coming. He's with the Asturian military. Second in command of the airship Crusade," she told her proudly.
Hitomi inclined her head respectfully. "Sounds like an interesting guy."
Laughing, Yukari grinned from ear to ear. "He is. He's always off traveling, like yourself, I suppose." She paused, looking up longingly at the pale clouds above her. "What's it like?"
"What?" Hitomi asked.
"To travel." She searched Hitomi's mossy eyes for comprehension. "What's it like? You must know." A soft sigh escaped her lips. "I wish I could travel. Instead I'm stuck working at Rose's tavern. My family has their expectations of me. They want me to marry, start a family. Lead a boring life. I bet your life is exciting, full of adventures, new scenery, and new people each day." Yukari sighed again.
"Hardly." Hitomi blew a piece of her hair away from her face, and rolled her eyes. Yukari had a very romanticized way of looking at things. "I'd take your life over mine in a heartbeat."
"No, you wouldn't." Yukari chuckled.
Hitomi snorted. "Yes, I would." Frowning, she sent Yukari a sideways glance. "Not knowing where I'm going or where I'll end up. Right now, it feels like I'm rolling with everything that comes along."
Yukari's chipper face dropped a few notches, her eyes empathetic. "I'm sure you'll figure it out, Hitomi." The honey-haired girl looked at her doubtfully. "Do you know where you're heading next, at least?" she asked gently.
"I haven't given it much thought." Hitomi batted at the air around her face, cursing under her breath that the dust was slowly going to choke her to death.
"Well, how about going to Fried to visit the temples? Or to Basram to browse the marketplace?" Yukari pursed her lips in thought.
"Maybe Palas," Hitomi shared. "I could find out for myself if the ocean really smells like salt. Besides, people coming through the tavern talk favorably about the city." She didn't know exactly why she was telling Yukari all this. It could have been that Yukari simply kept on talking, making her feel like she had to give something to the conversation.
"That sounds wonderful, Hitomi. Hey, where have you been anyways?" she asked earnestly, genuinely intrigued.
Looking down at her mud speckled boots, Hitomi decided that Yukari didn't need to know that the only place she'd ever been was the woods surrounding Fanalia. "I've been around." A passing bump in the road startled Hitomi. Jostling herself upright, she cleared her throat, and turned her head away.
Yukari shrugged. "Fine, you can keep all that to yourself if you like. I was only curious, that's all." Sighing, she drew the reins back slowly. The wagon creaked to a halt. Hitomi heaved forward, arm braced against the front of the wagon,
"We're here," Yukari cheerfully exclaimed, oblivious of the fact that Hitomi had almost been launched from the wagon.
Hitomi glanced over at Yukari's side of the wagon. She blinked at the rustic brown building the cart was in front of with mild curiosity. "We're stopping here?"
"Yea, Rose wants us to stock up on ale before the summer festival. Since this is a brewery, this is our stop." Chuckling at Hitomi's silly question, she hopped off the wagon with a familiar ease, reins still in hand. She guided the packhorse down the ally that led to the back door of the brewery. Hitomi folded her arms, and leaned back into her seat as far as she was able.
Yukari slowed the cart down, waiting for it to come to a complete stop before rapping on the back door of the building twice. A tall stark man in his late thirties wearing a spotless apron answered the door with a pleasant smile gracing his lips in greeting. "Ah, you must be the girl working for Rose. I recognize your cart. The order you're here to pick up is right here." He pointed at twenty decent sized barrels lining the back wall behind him.
"Thank-you Sir," Yukari chimed. She wasted no time in stepping around the man, leaving him to scratch at his mustache in amusement.
"Do you need any help with that?" he offered kindly.
"No, we'll be fine." Yukari was already on a roll, figuratively and literally. She was already in the process of rolling barrels out the door.
Hitomi took Yukari's hint, lazily kicking her legs out of the wagon, and letting herself drop to the ground with a satisfying crunch. The inside of the brewery smelled like musty barley and grain. Her nose welcomed the new aroma with contentment, eyes focusing on a huge vat of fermenting grain just to the right of her. The man with the white apron was stirring the top layer of the fermenting mixture expertly with a short wooden spoon. "If you change your mind, just give a shout." He smiled.
"Don't worry about it. We can handle it. Right, Hitomi?" Yukari assured him, simultaneously turning her attention to Hitomi. "Right?" Hitomi nodded in response. "Okay, let's get this done. We don't have all day," she announced with enthusiasm, thrusting her finger into the air.
Whatever it was that had possessed Yukari, it seemed to rub off. Hitomi accepted the task and followed after her companion, rolling barrels out the door. The honey-haired girl had to admit the work was difficult. First they rolled the barrels to the wagon, then together they lifted one barrel between them, and hoisted it up to the back of the wagon. They started at the rows of barrels with a sense of accomplishment. She was glad they finished before noon.
"That wasn't so hard." Yukari grinned, patting Hitomi's back roughly.
Hitomi winced. "It was for me. My back hurts." Grumpy expression plastered on her face, she clambered back to the front of the wagon while Yukari laughed at her expense.
"Just think, the festival starts in two days!" Yukari happily pointed out as she took her seat beside her.
"That makes me feel so much better," she told Yukari with a frown.
The red-head continued to laugh.
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"Why not?" a voice boldly asked. Maroon eyes bore through a chaotic mess of disheveled inky black hair, impatiently waiting for a reply.
"You already know." Pausing, a face veiled by shadows glanced up at the speaker. "Don't look at me like that. There's nothing that can be done about it."
"I'm sorry, but I don't understand, brother." Dark brows furrowed as he glowered stubbornly.
"Van, get ready." Waving his arm in annoyance, he breathed a sigh. "Please fix your collar, and do something with your hair. We'll talk about this again later. This isn't the time to be bringing this up." Straightening the cuffs on his sleeves, Folken Lacour de Fanel, King of Fanalia, stood up from the elegant chair he was sitting on.
"But-"
"She can't come, Van, and that's final." Sighing, he rubbed one of his temples wearily. His persistent brother stepped in front of him, purposefully looking up at him.
"Are you afraid that she might offend someone?" Van bravely asked.
"Yes. As harsh as that sounds." Folken noted how tight Van's fists were balled together.
"You're stressing about this more than is necessary. Merle is fully aware of the problems that would ensue if I allowed her to come. Fanalia needs to maintain her ties with Asturia and Cezario. As her king, I cannot afford to jeopardize that."
"Just because she's- Doesn't mean-" Van muttered a string of profanities, and jerked his head to one side to avoid maintaining eye contact with Folken.
Gripping his brother's shoulders with two sturdy hands, Folken managed a smile. "It's very noble of you to look out for her, Van. She's very lucky. One day, she may very well need that sort of protection. I've already discussed this with her, and we have agreed that it's best for her to sit this one out. Don't worry Van. I will make this up to her."
Van nodded slowly in response, finding some satisfaction in his brother's words. "Okay," he replied, looking at his feet, his voice carrying an embarrassed tone.
"Good. Now fix your collar, then we may leave," Folken stated, a smirk lurking behind his straight face.
"I don't see anything wrong with it." Van's nose wrinkled in confusion as he inspected the rest of outfit for unsightly creases.
Folken solved the problem himself, deftly flipping Van's collar down, and smoothing it out at the right places. "There," he announced in a serious tone. "Done."
Van rolled his eyes and sighed irritably. "I could have done that myself, thanks."
"But you didn't," Folken observed.
"Stop treating me like a child," Van whined, crossing his arms. "I'm sixteen, I hope you realize."
Amusement swirling through his mulled red-wine eyes, Folken wasn't surprised at all with his reaction. In fact, he found the situation funny, but he'd rather die before telling Van that. Even after all these years, the image of his little brother looking up at him with those big eyes, goofy grin, and grubby palms seemed to stick to his mind. He often wondered if Van had somehow grown up without telling him.
Now, the little things he did for him, like adjusting his collar, sent him through ripple of nostalgia. He vividly remembered his father doing the exact thing for him. Folken always remembered complaining about it, and feeling like his credibility as a responsible young adult was compromised, but he felt secure in knowing that his father cared. Van deserved that same care in Folken's mindset.
It had been a great blow to him when his father fell ill and passed away. He was left scrambling to pick up the pieces. The responsibilities of an entire kingdom was a big piece to pick up, along with the added burden of a heartbroken mother. She had given up, like her life wasn't worth anything tangible anymore. His heart wrenched each time Van turned to him with droopy eyes and asked, "Is mother sick? Why is she sick, brother?"
"She's sad, Van. Very sad."
"I don't want her to be sad anymore…"
It wasn't long before Varie Fanel faded away from the world's grasp. Her funeral took place on a cool spring morning. Van clung to his leg tightly as they watched her casket being lowered into the earth beside her husband, surrounded by new spring blossoms that only she could name. Folken remembered Van asking him if she was still sad, and if she really was gone. He was thankful Balgus was there to sooth him with his reassuring words when he was unable to say anything.
"No, my prince. I'm certain she's happy where she is now," he had said with a smile, "and just because we can no longer see her, doesn't mean she's gone. She'll remain so long as we remember her."
Balgus was always there to offer his support. For that, Folken would be forever grateful. He took Van and little Merle, the sister they had both somehow managed to adopt, under his wing whenever Folken found himself buckling under stress. He couldn't help but feel solely responsible for them, because in a way, he was. Varie and Gaou were no longer with them. They looked up to him now. But it would have been impossible to expect him to raise them on his own. It was comforting knowing Balgus was there to guide him.
"Oh please," Folken remarked as he rolled his eyes, brushing off the invisible dust of the shoulders off the shoulders of Van's coat. "Now that you're presentable, we may go. Come on, we're late enough as it is." Folken turned on his heels sharply and pushed open the door.
Behind him, Van made a grumpy face and deliberately ruffled the collar of his shirt, and opting to fix it himself. A prime example of childish rebellion at its best. Folken noticed the modification as they walked down the long corridors, but he didn't say anything. If he wanted to look sloppy, then he could look sloppy. It didn't matter to Folken. What mattered was he had tried.
Together, they came to a pair of wide oak doors framing a stained glass window depicting a fight between a hero and a dragon, the door that led to the grand ballroom. Van's eyes drank in the familiar scene in front of him from under his unruly bangs. He knew the scene well. He used to clamber onto his brother's lap, with Merle right behind him, and beg his brother to tell them a story. If Folken happened to be in a story-telling mood, he'd often tell them that story. The story of how the hero slayed the dragon. He was only five at the time, but he remembered the day Folken came back home after finishing the rite of succession in detail.
A glowing pink orb was raised into the air, and all of Fanalia roared with mirth. The generals bent down on one knee to swear their undying allegiance to the new king.
Merle and I clung to mother's deep blue skirts, Merle wringing her tiny paws on the pink sash that hung from her thin waist. We watched with quiet interest as brother strode towards us with solemn grace to receive her blessing. He killed the dragon. Just like the hero did before him. I couldn't understand why. Why did the dragon have to die so brother could become king?
Back then, it was difficult for him to understand the meaning of duty. All he had thought about was the poor dragon. Van still found the dragon's fate sad, but now he knew why Folken did it. He was bound to the rite by duty and tradition.
He still is.
The doors groaned as they opened. A young male servant scuttled forward and bowed deeply before turning to announce the king's presence to the bubbling crowd. "Announcing King Folken, and Prince Van of Fanalia." The servant's voice rang clear throughout the room. Everyone's eyes looked to the door, their chatter ceasing.
"Greetings. I pray that you are all well, and are enjoying yourselves," Folken's deep voice boomed with a confident flair. "Please be sure to sample the desserts my cook has prepared. They never fail to satisfy my sweet tooth." Bobbing curtsies and bows, many of the guests offered greetings of their own. Folken received them all with a brood smile.
"Folken, where's Balgus?" Van whispered to his brother hurriedly.
"He's not here yet, but I'm sure he'll be here shortly," Folken replied smoothly.
Van remained behind him as usual, casually waiting for the pleasantries to come to an end. He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as Folken warmly shook King Cezar's hand. Cezario's king was as dull as ever, his burly mustache hiding the expression on his mouth. It was impossible to tell if the tall lanky man was smiling or frowning.
"You're late," a voice quipped at Van jokingly.
Van snorted, recognizing the voice almost at once. "Fashionably late, Allen. There's a difference."
"Your collar says otherwise." Celena giggled behind her gloved clad hand, her arm draped through her brother's protective one.
"It's good to see you're doing well, my lady." Van inclined his head slightly, trying to hide the fact his face was glowing.
Celena blinked at him with her blue eyes. "It's good to see you're doing well too." To Van, she looked like a pale-faced doll, dressed up in her cream and baby blue finery. She looked surreal.
"How have you been, Lord Van?"
Van passed Allen a slightly irritated look. He hated it when he addressed him as 'Lord'.
"Not bad." He shrugged. "You?"
"Excellent. The summer festival has started, after-all."
"Well, it hasn't started just yet. It doesn't begin until midnight, as tradition dictates."
Allen laughed heartily. "Close enough. We're going to have to go downtown sometime to take part in the festivities." He grinned.
Celena gave Allen's shoulder a nudge. "By festivities you mean wander around from tavern to tavern drinking, don't you?"
Quieting his sister with a hand, Allen looked around himself, laughing in short dry spurts. Van sighed.
"I'm planning on taking Merle out tomorrow. You know, to see the festival."
The Knight Caeli nodded. "You should take Celena along. Celena, do you want to go with them? I'm sure Van will be willing to escort both you and Merle."
"I already have an escort," she replied sweetly.
Visibly, Allen tensed. "Who?" His tone was sharp.
"Gaddess. He offered to take me."
"Ah, I see." Allen nodded numbly. "I wonder what other arrangements you've made without my consent."
Celena frowned. "I was going to discuss it with you tomorrow morning, brother," she stated her brow furrowing.
"I'm sure you were going to." The smile Allen wore was tight and didn't touch his eyes. He patted her hand. "Anyways, it looks like the king will be addressing us again shortly. We had better take our seats." With her brother's arm guiding her way, Celena made her way to her seat, Van following behind them silently.
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Resisting the urge to slouch in his seat, Van fiddled with the table utensils around him. Folken had already made his speech on peace and his hopes for Fanalia's future, and now there was nothing to occupy his attention. The table was vibrating with exuberant chatter and joy, and yet Van felt like he was off somewhere else. Folken's rumbling laughter shook him to attention, his knife clattering across his plate.
"Van, is everything alright?" a docile voice asked him thoughtfully. "You keep fidgeting, and you've stared at your cup for ages. Are you hungry? The food's almost ready, I think. Van?" He felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Huh?" Staring at the gloved hand on his shoulder, he blinked. His blank stare traveled up that gloved had to meet a pair of concerned blue eyes. They startled him. Had he been in such a daze that he had forgotten that Celena was sitting beside him? "Yea. I'm fine." He quickly lowered his face.
"Let him be." Allen chuckled from his seat beside her. "He's obviously tired. Did you have a rough day today?" he inquired. A flourish of white lace flashed across the table. Pouring himself a cup of wine, he studied Van's face.
Van managed a weak smile. "I guess Balgus has pushed me harder than I thought."
Lowering the lip of his wine goblet from his mouth, Allen nodded. "Send me a message the next time you're practicing so I can stop by and challenge you to a match. You know, for old time's sake." The smirk on Allen's face grew. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Not at all." Van shook his mane of black hair in response. "I'm sure Balgus would love to have a visit with his old student." In response, Allen lifted his cup up, and took a long dreg of it. Van would have done the same had his cup been full.
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Van ate his meal in relative peace. Allen made no more attempts at a conversation. He appeared occupied with talking to the young lady with fair hair sitting across the table from him. Van recognized her as being King Cezar's niece. She was completely enthralled by whatever it was that Allen was saying to her. Beside him, Celena picked at the food on her plate, scrapping her fork along its glossy surface.
"Brother, don't look so sullen," a smooth voice said from behind him, accompanied by a firm hand on his shoulder. "The night is still young. Try to look like you're enjoying yourself."
"That's easier said than done," Van retorted, without looking behind himself. Folken chuckled lightly and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Well, I best be off. There's a fair lady awaiting my presence."
Van grunted, turning his head in time to see Folken escorting a young woman with an abundance of dark chestnut curls rippling down the back of her elaborate dress to the dance floor by a pearl encrusted glove. King Cezar's daughter, no doubt. Van mused as he watched as Folken lead her into a waltz.
As beautiful as the princess was, another woman caught his eye. If anything, this woman was her mirror opposite. Standing off to one side of the dance floor, moonlight pouring down in a great flood behind her from an open window, was a small woman garbed in a grand ceremonial dress with intricate embroidery stitched into each fold of its fabric. The woman stared at him from across the room with large liquid blue eyes. She smiled shyly, adjusting the shimmering shawl draped loosely about her person, causing her long silvery locks to quiver around her. Van felt a lump form in the back of his throat. There was something very strange about her, but Van couldn't elaborate on the feeling. He squinted at her, noting on how the light shined off of her yellow earrings dangling from her pointed ears. Where was she from, anyways? Van never recalled seeing her before, or anyone else dressed like her.
A black cloud lies overhead, out of grasp, but ever-present. Who shall find the Seer? Before it's too late? Shall it be you, my dear Dragon?
Van blinked, looking around himself in sudden confusion. A wispy voice spoke to him, fluttering through his mind. Or was someone talking to him, and his hearing was simply addled? The woman's smile began to gradually wane, losing the warmth it once had. It became almost sad as Van locked eyes with her again.
You should seek for her, for only she can see what will come to pass.
Eyes widening, Van froze, his curiosity piqued.
"Who are you? Show yourself?" he snarled out in a low growl, unaware Celena was glancing at him warily out of the corner of her eye.
I'm right here, Your Majesty. Pleased to make your acquaintance.
To his horror, the woman curtsied, bowing her head low enough that her fine silvery hair touched the ground. Was it a coincidence? Was he imagining things? Van would have liked to think so.
"What do you want from me?" Van asked darkly, grinding his teeth together subconsciously. He didn't like the game she was playing with him.
What do I want from you? Why nothing. Nothing at all. What do I want to give you? A chance.
Her milky cheeks remained serene, all traces of her former smile vanishing. "Wha-?" Van could have sworn that the air surrounding him had become icy.
Hush now. This eye never received her full blood's inheritance. Curious...This I know, yet it helps me not.
Dragging the entrails of her dress across the floor, the woman approached him, her solid form liquefying each time her path crossed another person's. It was enough to make the hairs on the back of Van's neck stand on end, and his eyes pop out of their sockets. What manner of creature was she that she could walk through people without so much as fluttering an eyelash? Van's heart jumped to his throat, pounding madly.
Large dewy eyes sparkling like starlight woven into a blanket of brilliant blue, softened with empathy, her puckered red mouth parting slowly. "Her heart is heavy. Resentment, sadness, and self-pity have stained it. A heart's a difficult thing to mend. Patience is to be practiced. Love is to be learned. Trust is to be taught."
Van swallowed hoarsely. The incredibly gorgeous being was less than an arm's length away now, talking about something he knew nothing of, looking at him with such sorrow. A tear trailed down her face. "Why are you crying?" Van whispered.
A slender hand caressed one side of his face. "Will it be worth it in the end? Everything? All of the unhappiness, grief, sacrifice? Will it?" Heaving a long sigh, she allowed her slender fingers to linger on his cheek before she lowered them. "Pray that it will be," the lovely creature before him uttered with stern grace.
Van's brow crinkled in confusion once more. What unhappiness? What on Gaea was she talking about? "I don't understand…" he choked out, voice beginning to crack.
The woman looked up at the ceiling as if startled. Gathering up the loose ends of her shawl she adopted a look of terror. It didn't suit her small serene face at all. "It begins...now," she whispered hoarsely to herself.
Van's head whipped up to see what she was looking at. "What?" When he looked back, he found himself staring out at the dance floor. She had vanished, leaving no proof she had ever existed.
His ears suddenly became very aware of the sounds circling him, the reality hitting him like a brick. He slumped back in his chair again, eyes rapidly blinking. It felt like someone had squeezed the breath out of him.
"Van, are you sure that you're alright? You don't look it." Celena displayed her growing concern by pressing her hand against his forehead.
"She's right, you know. You do look pale, and that's saying a lot considering your complexion," Allen added.
"His forehead is cold," Celena puzzled.
Van felt more than a few pairs of eyes wander his way. "Ah…uh…" Discreetly, he cleared his throat. "I assure you, I'm fine." He brushed Celena's hand away as an after-thought
Allen raised an eyebrow and said, "I'm not so sure. You've been muttering things under your breath. Is there something bothering you that you'd like to talk about?" Celena's large eyes searched his flustered ones.
"Nothing is bothering me." He stole a quick glance behind his shoulder and sighed.
Mouth pursed Celena watched him. When her brother's attention shifted, she leaned in closer to Van's shoulder. "Yes there is," she insisted, her breath tickling his ear.
"Is not," he whispered back, his thoughts sinking into deep contemplation.
Chewing the inside of her bottom lip, Celena mimicked Van by looking behind herself, pondering the cause of Van's strange behaviour. Folken brushed by, leading King Cezar's daughter into another dance. A small smile graced her lips.
Could it be that...?
Boldly, she pushed herself up from her seat, the feet of her chair scraping across the wooden floor with a squeak. "Van, would you like to dance?" She extended her arm towards him graciously.
Allen, upon hearing the question his sister had asked, coughed, sputtering in his wine goblet. Wiping his chin, he looked up at her, eyes threatening to scold her. "Celena," he hissed between clenched teeth.
Stunned, Van gaped at her. "Uh…"
"Great. Let's go." Grabbing him by his hands, she coaxed him out of his seat, and dragged him away before he could find enough words to form a complete sentence.
Van found himself being smothered among great colourful billows weaving through one another. As vibrant blues, smooth purples, cheerful pale yellows, sharp and muted greens alike swirled by him, he began to feel very conscious of himself. Celena tugged impatiently at his shirtsleeve, ensnaring him back into focus. He nodded, taking her by the hand, initiating a waltz. Van was an adequate dancer, having been taught how to from an early age, but tonight his footwork was shaky. Smiling, Celena didn't seem to notice. His face became hot with embarrassment as Folken's laughing face hovered by him.
They danced briefly, stopping only when the mood of the music changed. Celena ushered him into the entrance of the ballroom's balcony. It was close enough to the table that Allen could turn around and see her, but far enough away from everyone that they wouldn't be overheard.
"Okay. You can tell me now," Celena demanded, her voice growing serious. Van rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, avoiding Celena's stare. He groaned when she began tapping her foot.
"There's nothing to tell," he tiredly replied.
"And what if I said that I don't believe you?" she asked cheekily.
"Well, then that's your problem," Van remarked, taking a few steps out into the moonlight. This was just what he needed. An interrogation.
"Van, please. Confide in me. I'm your friend, aren't I?" she pleaded with him, catching the cuff of his sleeve in her tight grasp.
Turning slightly, he looked back at her, and sighed in defeat. "Alright. Fine." He gave in just as easily as he had been conned into following her out to the dance floor.
Releasing him, Celena laughed and happily trotted to the balcony's railing. "So, what exactly is on your mind?" she asked him, grinning.
Van's short and shallow footsteps echoed through the still tepid night air. Leaning his elbows against the railing, he looked up at the mystic moon, musing about what he saw before he was dragged off by Celena. "Did you see a woman at the table?"
Celena laughed, unable to hide her amusement. "Why, yes. I did see a woman. Lots in fact."
Rolling his eyes at her, he continued. "But did you see one with long silver hair worn almost all the way down the length of her dress with blue eyes and pointed ears?" he said, exasperated, pointing to his ears for emphasis.
Drinking in his description of the woman, Celena fingered her delicate chin. "Long silver hair…No, I can't say I have. Should I have seen her? She does sound noticeable."
"Are you sure you didn't?" he asked anxiously. "You haven't seen anyone of that exact description?" Tearing his gaze away from the mystic moon, he stared at her fiercely.
"No, I haven't. Is this what's been bothering you all this time? Were you looking for her?" Celena inquired.
"No, I wasn't."
Pausing, Celena thought some more. "Is she your lover?" she asked curiously.
"No, she is not," he replied, appalled.
"Is she your brother's lover then?" she pressed further.
"No! She has no relation or tie to me or my brother." His face flushed.
"Then why are you looking for her?" Celena innocently questioned.
"I told you, I'm not looking for her." Her questions were irritating him to no end.
"Well, that doesn't make any sense to me. Why would you be asking about her if you weren't looking for her and didn't have any relation to her? Strange indeed." Tapping her bottom lip, she hummed in thought.
"I can't believe I'm even talking about this," he grumbled under his breath.
"What's her name? Maybe I've heard something about her," Celena offered.
That question stumped him. What was her name anyways? She never told him. He pondered this for a moment before coming to a conclusion. If Celena didn't see her approach the table, perhaps she never existed in the first place. Maybe she was simply a figment of his imagination brought on by boredom. Yes, that was it. She wasn't even real.
"Never mind. It doesn't matter anymore. It was a dream," he said softly. "Just a dream. Nothing more."
"A dream?" Chuckling, Celena's eyes trailed across the railing. "That's an odd dream to have, to say the least."
"Yea." Van scratched the back of his neck.
"Did she say anything to you in this 'dream' you had?" she asked on a whim, eyes still scanning the railing.
"Yes, but everything she said didn't even make sense." Looking at her with a curious expression, he asked.,"What are you doing?"
"Do these stairs lead to the courtyard, or do they lead around the back of the castle?" Picking up her skirts with one hand so that they were no longer touching the ground, Celena pointed to a narrow stairwell that lead down from the balcony.
"Why?" Van asked, edging closer to her as if expecting her to bolt.
"I'm trying to find the easiest route to the palace gates." Smiling, she walked over to the stairwell.
"What?" he responded in a flat serious tone. "You're joking right?"
Shaking the pale curls surrounding her head, she giggled. "No. Do you want to come with me?" she asked, taking a few cautious steps forward, she stepped on the first step, daring to take another.
"Come on, let's go back inside. I'm not going anywhere and neither are you." He beckoned to her.
"Don't tell me you actually want to go back in there. Well, if you do, I guess that's your loss. I won't be long. Allen won't even know I was gone." Holding onto the railing with one hand, she eased herself down into a sitting position onto the stairs.
"I bet you said that to yourself as you wandered off into the forest alone." Crossing his arms, Van stood patiently, waiting for her to tell him that she was bluffing.
"I'm not going to wander off. If you're so worried, come with me." She plucked and grabbed at her skirts, releasing a few heavy petticoats underneath her brilliant blue silk dress. Van watched her with a weird expression on his face. Folding the petticoats in the crock of her arm, she stood up, her now light dress swishing about her ankles, and descended the stairs.
"Celena!" he called out after her, his frustration level rising rapidly with each passing moment. Eyes wide, he couldn't believe it. She had been serious about leaving. How could she be so irresponsible? No wonder Allen watched over her like a hawk.
"Van, be a dear and don't tell Allen about this. If he asks for me tell him I've gone to my chambers. He shouldn't be back until late anyways. I doubt he'll notice," she chirped out in a sing-song voice. A faint rustling of bushes was heard as she dumped her petticoats under them.
Internally scolding himself, Van willed his legs to tread down those accursed stairs. "I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm doing this," he chanted under his breath.
"Thanks!" Celena's voice faded as she walked. "Please have a wonderful evening without me."
"Celena wait." He darted around the bend, trying to catch up to her. "I'll go with you. Allen won't forgive me if he found out I just let you walk off and- at night of all times." Heart pounding under the stress of the situation, he finally caught up to her.
She was standing there waiting for him as if she expected him to tag along, hands resting folded in front of her. Van was stunned. How could he have been this gullible? She didn't say anything, but he knew she was relishing in the fact that she had bullied him into coming.
"Where to?" he asked, completely defeated and slightly breathless.
The smile she wore stretched from ear to ear.
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