"Here we are," Celena announced with a smile, working her way around the crowd, Van at her side.
"A tavern? You wanted to leave a royal ballroom dinner at the royal palace, walk through bushes and puddles, to come to this dump?" Perplexed, Van simply stared at the building they were about to enter.
The musty air inside cloaked Van's face, and made him wonder what he was to expect from this place. It smelt of muggy human bodies and cheap cigars. Why Celena was grinning like an idiot was beyond all common logic.
"Little Miss," a shrill male voice called, a hand waving at them hysterically. "Long time no…" He scratched his head, unable to remember what came after that. Shaking his head he blinked. "Where's the Chief?"
"He's at a party at the moment," Celena replied kindly.
"Without you? Now let me tell you, he'll be getting an earful from me! Count on it, Miss." Hiccuping, he took a bow, keeping his bandana in place with a hand.
"Thank-you Reeden, but that won't be necessary." She laughed.
"Hey! Everyone look who's here. It's our very own little Miss." The funny little man staggered away.
"Come on, Van." Tilting her head in the direction the man left, she smiled at him widely. "I'll introduce you to Allen's crew."
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As much as Van hated to admit it, he was actually enjoying himself. The tavern's atmosphere was homey enough, and the food wasn't half bad either. Taking a sip of his ale, froth spilling from over the thick glass rim of his mug, he sat back, content.
Celena led the Asturian men who had befriended him, into a long string of sea shanties, none of which he knew, but he tapped a foot along to the chorus.
Sure, they were rowdy, but they were good company.
"So ya know the captain, eh?" a big burly man by the name of Katz asked him, his shoulder span twice his own.
"That I do. I've known him for years." Swaying slightly on his bar stool, he continued, "He trained in Fanalia. With Folken."
"The king taught the captain?" The seat Katz was sitting on creaked as he leaned forward, intrigued.
"No, Balgus did. I used to watch them all the time, out in the courtyard." Musing about the past, Van grew quiet, tightening his grip on his heavy glass cup. He didn't want to tell him how lonely he felt, how out-of-place he was when he did go watch them. Folken had been about his age, and Allen around thirteen. Their sword strokes looked awkward and pathetic compared to Balgus' fluid ones.
His brother never did train with him when he came of age. He was always too busy taking care of Fanalia's interests. Resenting Folken would never change that. He did his best to push away the feeling.
"Ah, I see." Katz nodded curtly, reclining back into a more comfortable position.
Celena's sweet laughter caught Van's attention. She stood too close to Gaddess for comfort, looking up at him with a soft happy expression gracing her features. Van snickered when her older brother came to his mind. It was a tough call on what he would do, since Gaddess was his right hand man.
"Yer Majesty, Yer Majesty," Pyle exclaimed dramatically, raising his mug well above his head. "Here's to the king's long reign! May this beautiful country never…run dry of her golden ale!"
"Here here!" the other men boomed after him, raising their glasses. Gaddess followed suit along with Celena, a jovial smirk spreading over his lips. In unison they tipped their heads back, keeping their cups vertical until they were drained. Celena took a sip of her wine discreetly.
Van emptied his glass as well, feeling the need to copy the others. Hours later, he regretted giving into the crowd.
The drinks kept coming, so he kept drinking them. He chuckled every time a crude joke was made, and staggered under his own weight whenever he wandered away from his stool. Faces became fuzzy to him, and noises louder than usual. Eventually, they stopped handing him mugs of ale. Van found himself thoroughly intoxicated.
"No more, no more! No more for you, yer Majesty!" Pyle, also intoxicated, hiccupped.
"Pyle, your mug please. I'm cutting you off," Gaddess told him firmly, annoyed that he didn't know his own limit.
"You can't do that!" Poking a finger in the middle of the dark-haired man's chest, Pyle snarled comically at him.
"As your senior officer, I can." Sighing, Gaddess grabbed his cup, and walked away from the distraught man. "As for Van, he'll be fine in a few hours. Don't give him anything more to drink, mind you," he addressed the tavern maid with the deep brown eyes and startling red hair.
Laughing as she rolled her eyes at him."Don't tell me how to do my job, cousin. Just look at him. He's done for the night." She smiled at him. "You planning on stopping by tomorrow? It's always nice to see a friendly face."
"Of course Yukari. I haven't seen you in ages." He ruffled her hair.
"Ha! You just want to drink, you sly thing! Nice try, Gaddess. I'm not buying your little act." Laughing, she turned to go, pressing her empty tray against one side of her hip. Off to her right, Van wobbled, on the verge of collapse before Yukari caught his arm. "Whoa, slow down there. Here, sit down." With a concerned smile she eased him back to his seat. "Sit tight for a moment, and I'll go grab water for you."
Her words soothed him, even though he could barely make out what she said. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his clouded mind. His mouth tasted musky, and his breath wasn't much better. Numbly, he continued to sit, unable to focus on anything.
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"Should I take him back to the castle?" Celena eyed Van warily, wringing her hands in a guilty fashion.
"No, he'll be fine. Trust me." His happy expression dropped as Celena continued to stare at the dark-haired prince. "Don't worry about him. Yukari went to go get him some water. Everything's under control."
"Your cousin? That was nice of her," she murmured in response. "I should have left him at the ball. He was troubled before we left, and now..." Pouting she looked at Gaddess again. "I'm such a horrible friend."
"No you're not," he replied.
She sighed. "I don't think he meant to get drunk. Poor Van…"
Chuckling, he gently stroked her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her "Your concern is admirable." He grinned boyishly at her.
Celena looked brightly up at him, a soft rosy glow touching her cheekbones.
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In the safe haven of the kitchen, Hitomi worked diligently. She washed dishes, up to her elbows in soapy suds, when Rose addressed her, "Hitomi, I need you. We have a rush of orders we need to fill."
"Coming," she replied, wiping her hands on her apron.
She hated leaving the kitchen. Hated it with a passion. The 'patrons' they served seemed more intent on groping her than actually drinking. She had slapped more hands away from herself than she could count. But, no matter how despicable the circumstances were to her, she had to do her job. Rose had been good to her, so in turn, she would do as she was asked.
Hitomi was grateful that Yukari had her back. She knew how to deal with the lechers. It never ceased to amaze her how confident the red-head looked each time she told the lowlifes off. Hitomi wished she had that sort of confidence. The most she found herself able to do was swat the assailant's hand away and shoot them a dirty glare. If anything more than that was needed, Yukari was always there to defuse the situation before things got out of hand.
Peeking around the corner, she spied a dozen or so clean empty glasses. Rose stood beside them, cheeks flushed. She had worked since midday.
"Fill these glasses up and take them to the table by the window there." She pointed to the glasses sitting on the edge of the bar, and smiled. "I've got an errand to run, so you had best help Yukari take orders and such while I'm gone, alright?" Chuckling she added, "I'll only be down the street if you need me. Yukari knows I'll be gone too. Good luck!"
"Okay." Hitomi nodded and watched her leave. It was going to be busy without her, leaving herself, Yukari, and the two cooks to take care of the tavern.
Cautiously, she gathered as many cups as she could carry, and filled them with the contents of the a keg stationed behind the bar. Her hands still had that chalky wrinkly feel to them from being submerged in water for too long. They felt bumpy against the smooth glass of the mugs.
As she worked, frowning each time a wave of froth managed to seep down the side of a glass, a flash of pale blue silk slipped across the corner of her eye. Nervously tucking a piece of straw coloured hair behind her ear, she glanced over and froze.
It was her. Why wouldn't she stay away? Hitomi scowled, her mood darkening tenfold. She was so finely dressed that she looked like she was ready to attend a royal ball. Proceeding across the room slowly, avoiding all eye contact, Hitomi hoped to walk by unnoticed. However, as fate would have it, Celena noticed her. She felt her baby blue eyes trailing after her. It was enough to make her want to duck under one of the tables and hide until she left. Thankfully, she didn't do more than stare at her as she walked through the crowd.
Miserably, she lowered her face, hotly remembering their last encounter and her sharp words. Preoccupied so, she failed to notice the black-haired youth taking a lumbering step towards her, looking at her with a dazed expression before collapsing on her shoulder.
Hitomi was livid. The tray she was holding rocked unsteadily, and she tried her best to steady it with her other hand. Face contorting with disgust, she backed up a few steps. The youth continued to lean against her, slowly edging forward as she stepped back.
"Get off me," she hissed between clenched teeth. Something tugged at her skirts suddenly, then she found herself staring at the ceiling.
It was strange however, that she didn't hear the glasses on her tray smash against the wooden floorboards. Her ears rang, hands fumbling to the sides of her face. She gasped in an attempt to regain her stolen breath. Her body tingled warmly. The heat soon intensified to a heady broil.
She blinked. The ceiling was aflame, burning brightly. Flames slashed, snarled, and scorched the walls black. Bright yellow-gold sparks glinted in the waves of heat, no promise of reprieve in sight, fire threatening to consume the building whole.
Bolting upright, Hitomi found that she was sitting in the middle of the empty tavern, heat of the red embers licking the floorboards around her. She heard screaming outside and realized…
Fanalia was burning.
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"Hold on, I'm coming." Putting on a brave face, Yukari dashed out of the kitchen, running towards Hitomi's voice. "Get out of my way!" Shoving people away indiscriminately, Yukari pushed a path through the throng of bodies.
She was stunned by what she saw. Hitomi knelt on the floor, hands clutched to her head in desperation, shaking uncontrollably. Wispy trails of steam rose from her dress, hair, and the floor surrounding her. A disheveled youth lay sprawled on the ground beside her, unmoving. She recognized him as the boy who couldn't handle his ale.
"Hitomi, what's wrong?" Dropping beside her, she shakily wrapped both her arms around her shoulders, crystalline shards of glass popping under her feet. "She's scalding hot," she whispered hoarsely.
A shadow rippled over them both as a young woman crouched in front of Hitomi, a pale hand slipping over her forehead. "She needs to see a physician. Her temperature is…"
Yukari reluctantly let Hitomi go. "Lady…" As she stared at the finely-boned girl intently, noting her exquisite blue eyes and pale curls, her hands began to tremble.
"What are you waiting for?" Celena demanded in a panic. "For her to die?"
"My lady, I- I…" Her words failed her, and she felt ashamed. How could she get herself to say that she didn't know how they would be able to even pay a physician, let alone find one. She had failed. Failed to help Hitomi. All hope dissipated from her face. How could this happen to her?
Celena gave the red-head a sympathetic look. "I will see to it that Hitomi is cared for. It's the least I can do for what she's done for me." Taking leadership of the situation, she instructed Gaddess to carry Hitomi out, and helped a groggy Van to his feet.
"How did you k-know her name? You know her?" Jittering under the pressure of the situation, Yukari buzzed around Celena like an anxious bee, seeking answers as the gracious lady coaxed the sluggish boy out of the tavern. "Will she be okay? W-where are you taking her? Gaddess? My Lady?"
"To the palace. Damn, she is hot," her cousin answered gruffly, rubbing his five O'clock shadow with the back of his free hand. "Why?"
Planting her fists on her hips, she glared at him with all the determination she could muster. "I want to know where she's going, you lug-head! I'm scared for her, and…people don't come down with a fever this suddenly."
"Celena will take good care of her, I promise," Gaddess replied, taking his leave with Hitomi cradled against him. Celena trailed after him, supporting Van with a tight look about her features.
What do I tell Rose when she gets back?
She watched them from the doorway as they disappear into the night. Sighing, she pushed back a stray piece of hair from her troubled face, and retreated back into the tavern.
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Blood red eyes, accompanied by a pale angular face and stark silver hair, scanned the chaotic environment created by molten flame with an uninterested expression. The young man yawned behind a sleek black glove, boots crunching against half-charred wood. Lazily, he fingered the hilt of his lacquered sword-hilt, toying with it in boredom.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he chanted in a playful tone. Grinning, he ran a hand through his short hair.
Standing underneath a door frame, he found what he was searching for. A short woman with wavy silver hair running down her back in thick ripples wearing a ceremonial dress cut in the traditional style of her tribe. The tribe whose village was crumbling into ashes at her feet. Orange highlights touched her hair amid the flames, delighting the predator watching her. She wasn't facing him, but he could imagine the look of horror on her face.
His amusement grew.
"Found you." He laughed richly, pausing to savour the moment.
"Please take me to my uncle," her soft but strong voice boldly demanded. The voice didn't come from a person who was frightened, the young man noted.
He scowled. How could she stay so unfazed in these conditions?
"Couldn't you scream a little?" Rolling his eyes, he sauntered over, strides long and unhurried. Absently he brushed some soot off his black and red uniform. "Honestly, you're taking all the fun out of this."
He ran a hand down the length of her silky hair, intrigued by the sheen of it. "My, what pretty hair you have."
The woman didn't flinch at his touch, she stood perfectly still. "My name is Sora," she said quietly. "Take me to my uncle."
"Yea, yea, I know," he growled out, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Mine's Dilandau. I'll be seeing a lot of you, Sora." His voice was as thick as the smoke around them. Nuzzling his cheek against her bare neck, he softly chuckled. "The emperor will be so very pleased to see you. Very pleased indeed."
Pity, even that didn't get a rise out of her. How he loved getting under people's skin. He silently promised himself that by the end of it all, she would learn to fear him. No, she would learn to love fearing him.
"We don't have all day, wench. Shall we leave before this rat-hole collapses on us?" Smiling in spite of his harsh words, he leaned in close to her pointed ear, making sure that his breath blew inside it.
Sora didn't look at him. She merely walked away, not waiting for him to lead her. Anger flashed in Dilandau's eyes as he watched her retreating back. Unbeknownst to him, she already knew where Dilandau's troops had landed with their transport. She even knew when they were coming, and from what direction they were coming. The orders had been given weeks ago, and Sora had heard them.
Her knowing had been enough to warn her kinsmen, and the rest of the village. They knew better than to let her warnings of the impending strike go unheeded. She was their oracle, a priestess of sorts. Her words were always treated with respect.
As for herself, she stayed behind, smiling at those who expressed their concern for her well-being. Her people would be safer if she didn't go with them.
They had come for her, after-all.
That was why she made herself endure the burning of her home. The only thing that mattered to her was that they were out of harm's way. Now all she could do was pray.
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Run.
Run. Don't stop.
Wild green eyes widened fearfully in the muted red glow of her surroundings. Panting, she kicked her legs out in front of her one by one. They throbbed and sizzled in pain, the elongated muscles of her legs stretched to their limit. She kept pushing herself forward. Stopping wasn't an option. She had to outrun the flames licking her heels, or be consumed by them.
A long cackle rumbled through the hot air, tangling itself inside the blaze. It caught her off-guard, causing her footwork to falter. The disturbance was all the inferno needed to sweep over her body, wrapping her in a thick blanket of boiling lava.
No! Somebody…help me.
Tears pooled in her desperate emerald eyes and then she knew nothing but darkness.
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"I 'ope everything's to yer likin' sweet 'eart." Metal grinded against metal, raw against Sora's sensitive ears as a rusty door was forced open. The man escorting her leered at her openly, his rutty face progressing into a lecherous smirk.
She stepped lightly into the dingy cell with all the grace she could muster. Closing the door behind her with a rattle, the man continued to stare at her. "Ya might as well 'ave a seat. Yer gonna be 'ere awhile yet."
She refused to sit. Acting as if she didn't hear him, she pressed her two palms together and brought them up to rest just over her heart. Bowing her head, she closed her liquidly eyes.
Grunting, the cell keeper locked the door, shaking his head at the small woman. "Suit yerself." With that said, he left her alone, strolling down the narrow hallway, keys dangling in their giant loop at his hip.
Her surroundings were suffocating. Flat pieces of metal lined the entire floating fortress, making it difficult for Sora to concentrate on her craft.
Metal formed and shaped as it was, put a damper on her skills. It confined her mind to her body, stifling the range of her sixth sense dramatically. Anything she was able to sense in this state came to her in flickers.
Sora did not let this deter her. She could get past these limitations if she concentrated enough. The Past was her mistress, and would allow her to view events that had already come to pass so long as she obeyed her rules. She was forbidden to change the past, and could not see any past event in which she was present. To ignore the rules was to invite pain and suffering.
Clearing her mind of worldly thoughts, she sifted through a thick fog of fuzzy images and blurry faces. Focusing on one image in particular, Sora allowed all others to vaporize. Ignoring the source of distortion around her, she pushed herself into a small moment in time.
A flash of white feathers blew by her face, several grazing her milky cheeks. After a few seconds of quiet observation, she smiled. There you are, Dragon. Right where I last left you.
One look was enough for her to recognize the youth. Her eyes lingered on him. She couldn't afford to lose him. Not now.
Wings like a dove's, hair a Raven's black. Eyes of cheery wood. Heart of a Dragon. It's as you said, Aunt Idalia.
Pressing her lips into a half-smile, she began humming a haunting melody, one her grandmother had taught her before passing away two winters ago. The cage that confined her disappeared. She started singing.
Abruptly, she stopped. The metal around her was singing back, ringing with vibrations. She couldn't afford to lose track of her intentions now.
Singing had been one of her grandmother's pastimes. One they both shared. She didn't have many memories of the rest of her family. Her mother had died giving birth to her. Her aunt Eara had been killed in a raid when Sora was a toddler. Idalia had died at the hands of her husband, Emperor Dornkirk of Ziabach.
Dornkirk had murdered Idalia shortly after she refused to aid him with his goal of world conquest. Her ability to see into the future was the only reason he had sought after her. He had threatened to annihilate the entire village and the people living in it if she did not agree to become his bride.
The sad reality was Idalia knew marrying him would bring about her death. She knew it from the very start. However, if it meant that her people would live, she was willing to go though with it. With guymelef units lining the border of the village, Idalia agreed to the marriage. She had accepted her fate.
If it was her he wanted, then he could have her.
On the eve of the wedding, Sora laced up the back of her aunt's black wedding gown when Idalia pulled away from her niece suddenly. "Sora, when I die find the next Seer. She will be born after my passing. I want you to be ready for her coming."
Without blinking, Sora bobbed her head, pouting her mouth out in a slightly hurt expression. She willed herself not to cry. Her aunt wouldn't want that.
"That's my girl." Idalia smiled. Even now at the brink of darkness, she still had enough strength to smile to bring comfort to a loved one. "There is another. The Dragon."
Listening intently to her aunt talk about yet another person who had yet to be born, she balled her hands into compact fists. "The Seer and the Dragon have it in their power to bring about the end of Ziabach's evils. Have faith and await them."
Then she went quiet. Sora went back to fixing her dress, and adorning her hair with tiny green emeralds. Gathering up her courage, she timidly asked her one question that had burned at the back of her mind, "Why must you die?"
Idalia drew in a pained breath. "Because I must. For the next Seer to be born. For Dornkirk's bloody reign to end. For your happiness. For your generation, and the next. In the big scheme of things, I play a small part, but that part must be played." Behind her, Sora's little hands trembled as she ran a comb through her ebony hair. "Don't be saddened. I won't be alone. My sisters will meet me at the gate of this world and the next. I am not afraid."
Closing her eyes before a tear could escape, Sora sighed.
No, Aunt. I was sad because I knew that I would be the one left alone.
She drew up an image in her mind of her mother and her aunts. They looked so proud standing side bye side together. So strong. Her mother had the same silver hair and deep navy blue eyes she had. She had been the eldest of the three, and always held about her an air of respect.
Eara was the second sister to be born, a brunette with straight long hair and amethyst eyes. She left a son when she died, younger than Sora, by the name of Quinn. He was nothing at all like her, in appearance and personality. His mother had been gentle and calming while Quinn was a raging ball of flame with bright hair to match his mannerisms. Sora often had problems in dealing with him, for he had a way of awkwardly brushing off on people. When you got past his mannerisms, he was pleasant to be around and often showed that he cared in endearing ways.
The youngest, Idalia, had forever been known to be the quickest to judge, and the quickest to anger. She did have calmer moments, but her fierce jade eyes warned onlookers that her current mood would not last. Stubborn to a fault, once she had made a decision, she never backed down from it.
Together they formed a trio, their bond strengthened by the gift they shared. Her mother had been able to delve into the Past, Eara the Present, and Idalia the Future. It made Sora jealous. They were able to bear their burdens together, learn together, and support each other.
Sora knew nothing like that.
One day, she would meet them at the gate of this world and the next, but until that time came, she had a mission to complete. An impossible task that could very well end her life. If that was the case, she was prepared to accept her fate, as her aunt had before her.
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Her body was numb. The steady beating of her heart against her ribcage was the only sound she was conscious of. Everything else seemed irrelevant. Each deep calm beat comforted her, for it was her only proof that she was sill alive.
She felt warm now, a comfortable warmth. It was soothing. Gradually, pressure was applied to her hand, and without thought, she squeezed back. She became aware of the soft fabric lovingly placed around her. It felt like someone had tucked her inside a cloud. A wonderful cloud. The aroma of lavender tickled her nose, but she didn't dare open her eyes. She was afraid the flames would greet her again if she did.
So she slept, lightly clinging to the hand enveloping her own.
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Resting his forehead briefly against the door frame, Allen regarded his sister sceptically. "You're telling me that she is responsible for seeing you safely home?"
"Yes, strange as it sounds," Celena answered curtly, not taking her eyes off Hitomi's sleeping face. Tenderly, she peeled the thin white cloth adorning her forehead off, and dipped it in the basin of cool water on the table beside her. "The physician has never seen anything like her condition before. It worries me." She bit the underlay of her bottom lip thoughtfully.
"Hm." Shrugging, he pulled at his gloves, lost in his own thoughts. "I'm still upset with you."
"Why? I had an escort." Replacing the cloth on Hitomi's flushed forehead, she looked at her brother in dismay.
"Yes, but you didn't talk to me about it first. You can't walk away like that. I know you bullied the prince into going with you." Rubbing the back of his head, he sighed and pulled a chair up beside hers.
"Van? I didn't force him into anything." Trying to keep the smile from tugging the corner of her mouth at bay, she locked eyes with him. "How is he feeling anyways?"
"Lousy." Allen half laughed, half snorted. "I doubt he'll have a drink anytime soon." His gaze shifted to the girl sleeping underneath a powder blue blanket.
"Her name is Hitomi," Celena said with undercurrents of sadness lingering in her voice. "I don't know much about her other than she ran away from her home. Someone must have committed a great wrong against her. She hinted at it once."
"Is that so?" Allen mused. "I still owe her my thanks."
Smiling she looked up at the wooden panels hanging overhead. "She wouldn't want your gratitude. She would prefer to be left alone altogether, I think. She's peculiar at times, but I know she's trying to be a kind person."
Fingering his chin, Allen smirked. "Is she really so stubborn?"
"Yes, she is, but I enjoy her company. The last time we met she treated me harshly. I wish we could start fresh." Forgiveness and empathy washed over Celena as she lowered her eyes from the ceiling. With a caring hand, she smoothed the blanket covering the small girl out, humming to herself quietly.
Allen fell silent, content to watch and listen to his sister attentively. He tried to relax into his seat. The room was eerily quiet for his tastes, but the decor was peaceful, simple clean pastel colours, soft fabrics.
"I'm relieved that she pulled through," his sister whispered. "Her temperature dropped as suddenly as it had risen. The physician wants to keep an eye on her."
She giggled abruptly, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. Bubbling grin on her face, she glanced up at him merrily.
"What is it?" Allen asked, intrigued.
"She will be angry with me when she wakes. Just you wait and see." She laughed.
Rolling his brilliant blue eyes, he looked at Hitomi and seriously wondered if Celena was talking about the same girl. She didn't look like the explosive type. Then again, she was sleeping. He would have to see, now wouldn't he?
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The ears at the side of Merle's head stood erect amid a mass of pink hair as the irritated cat-girl made a sour face. "I can't believe she did this to you, Lord Van!" she wailed at a the groaning prince, who wearily clutched his head.
"Merle…quiet." He crawled away from her slowly, sitting on the edge of his bed, back hunched over.
"She dragged you off into the night, and- Oh was I so worried about you when you didn't return with Lord Folken…" Her face twisted into a horrified snarl. "She didn't…She didn't try to seduce you, did she?"
Without warning, she latched herself to his arm, ignoring his complaints. Nuzzling in closer, she fussed with his hair and brought a hand to his forehead. Her fretting was incessant as the concerned look about her. Van sighed.
"And then Lord Folken just laughed at you when you stumbled home. I was so scared... I thought someone had mugged you and-" He covered her mouth, putting an end to her prattling.
"Merle, it's okay. Really. I'm fine now." Still allowing her to cling, he rolled his eyes. As much as he loved her, her ways of showing that she cared were radical at times.
Merle continued to whine. "Celena's gonna hear from me. This is all her fault."
"You know that's not true," Van replied, rubbing his throbbing temple with his free hand. "It's my fault. Not hers." She became quiet, and for that he was grateful.
"Listen, I'd like you to do me a favour." Her ears perked up expectantly, her face lighting up. Good, he had her attention. "Could you go and get me something to drink?"
"Sure, Lord Van. I'll be right back." She bounded off down the hall, happy to be of service.
With Merle gone, he could finally slip away. But he had to be quick about it. She would be back within moments. Wasting no time, he rolled off his bed, hitting the floorboards with a bang. He brushed a hand over his joggled head as he bolted out the door, running bravely into the open corridor. He sprinted down the hall, haphazardly colliding into the corner as he rounded it. Head spinning, he dashed forward again, unknowingly running into the middle of Folken's chest.
The Fanalian king shook his head lightly at his younger brother, eyes looking down at him in amusement. "You're finally awake."
He blinked foolishly and swallowed. "H-hello brother. Good morning."
"Good-afternoon," Folken corrected him.
"Uh…"
"Balgus wondered where you were. He waited for you in the courtyard this morning. I told him that it wouldn't hurt if you missed one day's worth of lessons. When you see him, I expect you to give him an apology." Raising a silver eyebrow, he watched as Van slithered out of his way, lowering his head in embarrassment.
"Yes," he murmured to his feet.
Folken smiled to himself, wondering if Merle had seen him at all today. She normally hovered around him everywhere he went. "I trust you won't let yesterday's actions repeat themselves," he stated firmly.
"N-no. I mean…Yes. It won't happen again." Van looked up slightly, guilt outlining his features.
"Fair enough. I'll speak with you later then." There was an ominous undercurrent in his tone that Van picked up on, like he was leaving something out. He didn't comment on it, and dismissed it. Folken continued on his path and was soon out of Van's sight.
When Folken longer was not longer in sight, Van ran a hand down his face, stretching one side of it out pathetically. He was ashamed that he had missed his lesson. Groaning, he contemplated how upset Balgus was, and if he should go talk to him now or wait until he had a chance to cool off.
Taking in a sharp breath, he remembered his previous engagement. He ran down the hall at full speed, praying to the higher powers that Merle wouldn't find him. Stopping suddenly, he doubled over, panting. With a stray hand, he reached out to steady himself against a door, not knowing that it was slightly ajar. He half-fell into the room, catching himself before he fell to the ground.
Two pairs of blue eyes stared at him curiously. "Van? Are you alright?"
"Celena? Allen?" He gasped for air, gaze darting between them.
Celena smiled at him while Allen stared, bewildered. "Hello."
"Hi…" Something was off. He felt a weight hanging about the room, a presence that made his senses itch. Scanning the room, he noticed a lump on the bed, honey coloured hair poking out from under a pale blue blanket.
It was Van's turn to stare. "Who's that?" He limply shot a finger in the direction of the lump.
"Someone who doesn't feel well," Allen answered, getting up from his chair. "I should go. A message for me I should pick up. Celena, please wait here," he said, walking past Van on his way out.
Van turned to the blond man. "If you see Merle..."
"I don't know where you are." The Knight Caeli smirked before taking his leave.
Celena's eyes followed the sound of his footsteps down the corridor, her face the picture of determination. Chair legs scrapped against the wood floor with a screech as she stood. "Please excuse me for a moment," she told Van, stealing a glance at the lump before following after her brother.
Wiping his forearm over his slick forehead, he sighed. He was drained. All of the running and crashing into things had taken its toll. The bed looked more inviting the longer he stared at it. Surely the lump wouldn't mind it if he sat down at the foot of the bed? What could it hurt? He sat down gently as to not disturb the lump.
The blankets were so very soft. Before he could stop himself, he tipped over onto his side, laying across the end of the bed, and fell asleep.
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Shifting restlessly, Hitomi turned over onto her stomach, the cloth over her forehead slipping off onto her pillow, wetting the fabric. Her eyes half-fluttered open, delicate eyelashes fanning out in a brown-gold arch. Groggily, she propped herself up onto her elbows, adjusting to the light of the room. She felt weak and disoriented.
Where was she anyways? The room didn't look familiar.
Flopping back down onto the deep folds of the blanket around her, she moaned heavily into her pillow. She felt something press up against her foot. A dog perhaps? Hitomi hated dogs, and they seemed to return the feeling.
Gloomily swiveling her head in the direction of the foot of the bed, she gasped. It was a boy! She instantly rose from the bed.
The boy opened one eye and stared at her. Hitomi's blood boiled as the pervert leapt up with a panicked look on his face.
"Y-you're a girl," he exclaimed. Her green eyes narrowed dangerously. "This isn't what you think." The boy waved his hands at her in distress.
There was something about him that caught her attention. She squinted at him. He was the same boy who had fallen on her at the tavern.
"You." She pointed fiercely at him, ignoring his confused stare.
"Huh?"
"Pervert!" Grabbing the nearest object in reach, a basin sitting on the table near her bed, she chucked it squarely at his head, water splashing. The black-haired boy flew off the end of the bed, landing on the ground with a deep thud.
She didn't dare peek over the edge of the bed. Instead, she pulled the blankets up to her chin and scurried as far away from him as she could. Her mind raced through the possibilities that brought her here, settling on the worst scenario.
He had brought her here. To what purpose, she had her suspicions.
She felt sick, her gut twisting into a knot. Had he been the one holding her hand? Her heartbeat quickened. She had returned the gesture. Feeling dirty, she squirmed.
Then there was Fanalia. She needed to leave. Before the flames caught up to her.
"Hitomi, you're awake. How are you feeling?" a concerned feminine voice asked her, entering the room with a cheerful smile.
"C-celena?" she stuttered.
"I was worried about you. I'm glad you're feeling better." She took a seat next to the bed and looked at her anxiously.
Behind the blanket she was clutching to, Hitomi's upper lip curled angrily until she finally snapped. "Where the hell am I and why am I here? Answer me," she demanded. When no quick answer she said, "I'm leaving." Ripping the covers off herself, she whipped her legs over one side of the bed, and tried to stand.
Her legs buckled and she collapsed to her knees. Crying out, she hit the floorboards repeatedly with her palm.
"You're still too weak. The physician wants to keep an eye on you for a few days." Attempting to help her back to bed, Celena wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Hitomi pushed her away.
"What physician?" Grumbling, she looked up at her with frustrated eyes. "I can get up on my own."
Celena knelt beside the honey-haired girl. Her head turned to the end of Hitomi's bed when she heard several muffled curses. It sounded like a certain prince she knew.
"Van, is that you?"
"Yea," he muttered.
"What are you doing on the floor?" she asked him, eyebrows raising in question.
Pushing himself up slowly, he looked at her, a nasty lump developing on his forehead, blood dribbling from the wound. "You'd be on the floor too if she threw that bloody basin at your head," he yelled, glaring daggers at Hitomi.
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Allen strode down the long corridor, taking long strides, sharp blue eyes set straight and rigid. Moments before Gaddess had handed him a letter addressed to him, directly from King Aston himself. The contents of the letter only confirmed his suspicions.
Ziabach was on its way to Fanalia.
The letter demanded that Allen return to Palas immediately with the Crusade. Allen knew what he was about to do bordered on treason. He also knew what his obligations were. His honour as a friend and knight was at stake.
There was a rap at the door, followed by pounding. "Folken, we need to talk." His voice boomed, harsher than necessary.
"Come in. I was expecting you," Folken's stated in a low dry tone.
Thrusting the door open, Allen marched in, finding the Fanalian king reclined in his chair, pouring a stack of reports, his reading glasses perched precariously on his nose. "You were?"
"Have a seat." As directed, Allen fell into the chair across from him, flicking the letter onto his desk. It scattered across the parchment littering it, stopping dangerously close to the edge. Folken peered at him, his calculating eyes searching him.
"That came for me today. The messenger must have run several horses into the ground to get it to me," Allen gruffly said. "You'll find its contents interesting enough."
"Indeed." Folding the reports in his hand, the silver-haired man picked up Allen's letter, skimming it over thoughtfully, fingering his earring absently. "I agree with you. This was written several days ago."
"And?"
"Ziabach is coming to Fanalia it seems." Folken tossed the letter back onto the desk, uninterested.
"What do you plan to do?" Allen asked, clenching his fists.
"Set up my defenses, evacuate the city. They won't get past us. We were expecting them. All the arrangements have been made, save one." Pulling his thin glasses off his face, he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"And that would be?"
"I would like you to take Van and Merle with you when you leave. If Ziabach plans on assassinating Van, they are not likely to look for him in your company. May I ask this of you?" he gravely asked.
"Of course. They can stay at my manor. I won't introduce them to the king and keep them away from the public eye." Allen nodded.
"Thank-you, Allen. I am in your debt." Managing a wry smile, Folken stood up from his chair. Allen followed suit. Together they clasped each other's forearm in a heartfelt gesture.
"Please take care of yourself. Write to us as soon as you are able."
Folken clapped his shoulder. "And you do the same. I fear Asturia will be next."
Allen's expression grew grim. "I know. All the more reason for us to stay strong."
"Yes."
"Good-bye, but not farewell, my friend." Bowing, Allen shot him one last glance before taking his leave.
Folken stood deathly still, gaze lingering after the young blond man. "Take care of my brother. He may not understand."
He looked back at his wide desk, brow crinkling. Weeks ago he had received reports of guymelef sightings, and recently a floating fortress had been spotted just outside Fanalia's border. That had given him plenty of time for him to prepare for an assault. Hours ago, he had issued an evacuation notice to be distributed throughout the city. By now, people should be pouring out of their homes in waves.
Folken had taken every measure he deemed essential, but would it be enough?
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Feral blood-red eyes stared at her obsessively. She could feel them on her. The boy grinned at her mischievously, toying with a lock of his white-silver hair. He walked up beside her, eyes never straying from her face, and slowed to her steady pace. "You're stuck here, I've heard. Don't worry, you don't have to be alone."
A taller chestnut-haired man with eyes framed by glasses tapped the back of his head with a hand, chastising him. "Dilandau, stop hassling her. She's too old for you anyways."
Dilandau pouted, looking up at the man with disappointed eyes. "But father-"
"Go ready your slayers, and report back. The emperor has a mission for us, and I have one for you as well." The man offered his arm to Sora. She accepted it gracefully without comment.
"Oh, do tell." Dilandau smirked, running one finger down his cheek and to his chin.
"Now, Dilandau."
He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I will be back. Milady." Flashing his teeth at the woman shrouded in mysteries, he vanished down the hall, the sound of his footsteps echoing after him.
"Pay him no mind. He was not always like this," the man said with sad eyes, not meeting her gaze when she glanced at him.
"No. He used to be gentle, like his mother. They loved picking flowers together, in a field drenched in sunshine." Sora's mouth opened reluctantly, her face clouding over.
Stiffening, the man nodded. "Now I know why the emperor requested your presence. You truly have a miraculous gift. But now, you are trapped here, just as I am."
They quietly pattered down the hallway, arms still linked. She had been brought here to a land of metal to play tool to a man consumed by greed. There was no escaping. She could only wait, and watch.
The tall man escorted her to a courtyard. A place where trees, grass, and flowers grew freely underneath a harsh light from above. An oasis, complete with a miniature flock of songbirds. Sora allowed herself one small smile.
"I brought you to this place because I knew you would feel more at peace here. Stay here awhile. I will be back to collect you when I can." Gingerly, he lowered her arm, and stepped back.
"Thank-you," she murmured, grateful. He nodded and left her to her own devices.
The hours trickled by slowly. She amused herself by observing the birds, and relaxing by a tiny brook that ran through the area, pondering where it led to once it left the room. It was pleasant here, despite the heavy air. There was no breeze to lightly tussle the canopy above her. It bothered her, but she tried her best to ignore it.
She was contemplating her situation when the metallic ceiling rattled overhead. It irked at her heart. Perhaps she should contact the Dragon. Her surroundings would make it easier now than it was before. Closing her eyes, she centered herself, easing her mind as flashes of people and places passed her vision, narrowing her sights on one flash in particular. Before her was a grand ball complete with dancing and a banquet. If she looked closer at the table, she could make out the awkward raven-haired youth.
The Dragon.
Breathing out deeply, she pushed herself into that moment. She couldn't change the past, but she could influence the future.
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