Title: One Legend, Two Destinies
Author: Grayswandir
Fandoms: Gundam Wing, Escaflowne
GW VoE
Chapter Three: Escape to Serenity
To say Van was surprised when the day finally decided he should waken, would be akin to calling the sudden appearance of a boulder on a paved road a minor road hazard. The light reflected off the moons was equal to the sun in ferocity. Mid-moon? Already? He had not slept this long in some time. In fact he was almost certain it had been nearly an entire cycle before his dragon hunt. It took several minutes before it even registered in his mind that he was still in Folken's chambers, covered not only with the regular bed covers but also a pelt. He winced, realizing what that tended to mean. Closing his eyes for but a second, he frowned. He didn't feel that dirty cling of a night of sweat and sick, just pleasant warmth from a blissful sleep.
A rustle roused him fully. One of the cook's assistants stood at the foot of the bed, a thick, meaty sandwich, a steaming bowl of soup, and a glazed pottery cup filled with water sat on a tray in her hands, her concentration fully focused on setting the tray safely down on the bench that sat there. She sighed in contentment as the tray settled successfully onto the bench, gratification lighting her face.
"Thank you." A yelp issued from the maiden as she started. "Sorry," Van apologized. He knew that would happen, at least half the staff was in some form of awe of him, either as a skilled swordsman or his status as the king. He even saw terror on occasion. It wasn't completely unwarranted to Van; he'd feel terrified at some level too, knowing what he was capable of. Even if Folken was certain that it was reverence, Van found his certainty naïve, or perhaps it was paranoia. Paranoia: one more gift from his big brother. Some days, it was completely unavoidable.
"Is there anything I can get you, sire?" the meek maiden offered as she regained her equilibrium. Van was still trying to adjust to being home again and all the new faces to remember. It was all a bit overwhelming. Add in Hitomi, the first woman he ever felt he could love, returning to her home, Folken's resurrection, and all of Gaea seemed too small, too limited for all his worries. And now his advisors were insisting that he attend to the distant future needs of the people: a queen, an heir, lasting alliances. Too far into the future. They wished to focus on politics, not the people. The only future Van desired to focus on right now was rebuilding: hoisting logs, mixing mortar, hauling water – putting roofs over the heads of the people who make Fanelia a country. Narrow-focused fossils with more grease than sense.
"Sire? Are you alright?" her meek voice invaded Van's introspection.
Van breathed deeply, closing his eyes before focusing on the maiden again. "I'm fine," he replied, not really feeling that way. "Thank you." Please leave now. He couldn't bring himself to be that crass with the young woman, she was genuinely concerned, unlike those goblins who always asked that after bringing him to the breaking point in his patience.
"My lord," she bowed before turning and exiting the room.
The hall outside was silent as the door opened and closed. Folken must have redirected the workers to another area, hopefully back into the city where they belonged. The floor was torturously cold as he stepped out from under the bed clothes to join his waiting meal on the bench. No reason to soil the pelt. Slowly, Van drank through the broth of the soup and the sandwich, leaving the meat/vegetable mess for last. He paused as he reached for the water. Van was tired of the pottery. He missed holding a cool glass, watching as it sweat in the heat of the sun.
The tray was cleared of all foodstuffs in short order. Time to face the world. Van sighed as he stood, grabbing the tray to place in the hall. The halls remained vacant as he made the mad journey back to his own chambers, dodging the few guards that those stupid codgers insisted were necessary. Van was quite glad that none of those good-for-nothings were trolling in his sector of the castle; he didn't fancy the dressing down one of them would provide if they discovered him so unfit for the public. His normal attire always raised disapproving looks from the fossils, but they quit trying to correct his dress on regular days.
The surprise waiting on his bed definitely made the mad dash all the more fulfilling for Van. Laying there, all warm and welcoming, was a brand new winter cloak, leather jerkin, and comfortable trousers, along with Van's best hunting boots, gloves, and knives. A small note was folded up, resting on top.
Van, the note read, I have arranged time away for you. Go hunting. Gather herbs. Your bow and gathering packs are waiting for you at the stables. Four moons, then I send out patrols. Take care of yourself, Folken
And then there were these little things. It felt, to Van, like Folken was trying to shove ten cycles of brotherly love into the span of a few colors. No need to ruin a good thing…
GW VoE
Van breathed deeply as his beautifully black mare trotted lightly beyond the outer reaches of New Atlantis. The steady rhythmic movement of the horse, the smell of the foliage, the sounds of leaves rustling quietly in the light breeze relaxed Van like no one person had ever been able to. Hitomi had gotten quite close, she may even have made it there, if she had stayed. Shaking himself from his melancholic state, Van urged the horse into a canter, determined to find a suitable place to setup camp.
^Thank you, brother.^ Van laughed at the mental mixture of exasperation, affection and concern returned to him. Happy to be outside the confines of the stuffy skeletal castle and the wretched grasp of the council members, Van smiled, drawing his torso tightly to the neck of his trusted steed, silently urging the horse to venture deeper into the wilderness.
His rising elation tore all of Van's attention from his surroundings. If he had been more rested, less stressed, he might have seen the hungry eyes of the rascally bandits that peered out from the brush of the mostly absent forest path.
GW VoE
Night was swiftly approaching for the third time since Van's release from political confinement. The campfire snapped and crackled merrily as it seared the meaty morsel that once called itself a hare. Van took a deep breath, adjusting the meat before stretching out on his back in the small clearing. His horse nickered softly as it grazed on the grasses nearby. Medical herbs, edible mushrooms, tree bark, nuts, pair of deer; come night's end, the two would have to begin venturing back to the capital; back home, with his brother. Brother… The novelty of having family once more after so long had still not worn off. Van accepted Merle as a sister, but, as a cat-girl, she just didn't understand everything that caused him loneliness.
Van closed his eyes, savoring the scent of wood smoke mixed with searing meat, the scent of the mature fir trees fighting to overcome the new-growth sycamores in strength, the subtle nuance of horse sweat licking the edges. It all smelled so wrong and right at the same time. It smells perfect.
Savoring one last heavy whiff, Van sat upright, turning to grab the succulent seared hare from the flicking tongues of the fire. He groaned in anticipation of tearing apart the meat with his teeth, meat from a kill he himself made. There was nothing better than the fruits of one's own labors. Last time was…
Van's recollection broke with a heavy thwack!
Written October 3,2012… to September 13, 2014 *ick*