Escaflowne is property of its owners.
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A/N: Thank you to CovertEyes for all her help on this one-shot! I recommend you to read her stories, she's a master. 01/2023
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Fourth Moon
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OMEN
(Oneshot)
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Warning: This content depicts gore, death/loss and other adult themes that I can't disclose due to it being a spoiler. If you're sensitive to these topics and still want to read it, I encourage you to prepare yourself emotionally: you're your own guardian and procurer of your health.
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I
The first feather fell on Hitomi at dusk, as she jogged along a cobbled path that encircled a small square in Fanelia's Castle, concentrically walled in by tall saplings and squatted bushes of faded leaves and bare branches. In the centre of the square, a fountain sheltered two marble maidens who quietly poured their pitchers of endless water into its depths. The air was cool and still; the only sounds were the gentle murmur of the water and her elaborate clouds of breath.
She didn't see the feather appear; her troubled and unfocused mind was making her body move in slow and well-known patterns. Soft as a cat's fur, lustrous jet-black, and longer than her hand, it clung to her amber fringe in a cold gust that shook the naked twigs and froze the sweat on her body under her grey pullover. Hitomi closed her eyes in a tremor and waved a hand on her hair to shoo the feather away, but then it latched onto the white sweatpants. She stopped and, squinting, took it between her fingers. It scattered like black sand at the touch.
The king denied it.
"My wings are perfectly fine," he said at dinner, upon returning from hunting with his samurai. "Besides," he continued, "it wasn't possible for me to be overflying the castle. We were chasing the makusi through the mountain paths," he explained, pointing with the knife in his brown-gloved right hand to the steaming meat in the centre of the table, which was surrounded by wooden bowls of rainbow vegetables and fruits, spicy sauces, and thick slices of bread. "It must have been some bird."
They dined outside, on the balcony of their room, under a dark and overcast sky. The twinkling specks of light from Fanelia's homes stretched across their view like the absent stellar mantle. Hitomi pressed her lips together, fighting against an acidic tide surfacing from her throat, and did not take her eyes off Van, seated at the other end of the small table.
"It's possible that it's nothing," she said, "but you know how it used to be…" The woman rested her fork with a clink on the silverware and absently picked up her glass of defanged vino.
"Hitomi," he called, reaching out to grasp her hand on the table. "The only worth in misfortunes that may or may not occur lies in preparing for them." His words were as soft as the caramel in his tired eyes. "Don't worry. I'm here."
She frowned.
As with her grandmother, time passed faster on Gaea than on Earth. The young woman was surprised to see a mature Van welcoming her to Fanelia instead of the young Van she had contacted before. Despite the disappointment and strangeness, Hitomi decided to be grateful; she loved him anyway and had no concerns about their differences until she found reasons to have them. All sorts of rumours spread concerning the king and the throne's succession, and they didn't abate enough after their marriage. Even after years, and with the solid faith she placed in him, she would sometimes swirl those brief cognitions in her mind to see them streak down the glass of her confidence.
Van was there, yes, she knew it, but how much, really...?
Hitomi examined him closely, as if unravelling every feature of his body would give her the answer. The orange light leaking from the room deepened the shadows that seemed to swallow him whole, his marked face and silver-streaked hair melting into the darkness. His eyes glinted like torches in the midst of a forest, enigmatic and warm as they locked onto hers.
The king withdrew his hand in a caress, a slight smile on his lips. The warm touch had ablated the cold worry clinging to Hitomi's heart, but its absence turned light snowfall into a snowstorm.
Van, feeling satisfied that he had reassured her enough, continued eating. He cut a juicy portion of makusi on his plate and brought it to his mouth. The meat bled the same deep pink as the pendant hanging from his chest. After finishing off his wine glass, a drop of the liquid slipped from his lips and ran down his hirsute jaw like dark blood. It fell and disappeared into the blackness of his open coat.
The queen lowered her gaze to her nearly empty plate, which bore the traces of a bloody battle that left a few chopped exotic vegetables as only survivors. A cold current crept under the white sweater that covered her neck, and with a shiver she stabbed her fork into a small, round, red vegetable with shimmering skin. It burst out thick and lilac, soiling her bosom.
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The sky was growing lighter.
The monarchs slept soundly, naked and tangled in an indistinguishable bundle of brown arms and light legs among white blankets; their garments lay scattered on the floor like corpses. On the other side of the window, a pair of black feathers fell down until they disappeared.
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II
Hitomi worked in the study. The warm light from the lamps chased away the darkness of the night that wanted to stream in through the windows, illuminating the bookcases of thick tomes, the maps hanging on the walls, and the couches and chairs scattered throughout.
The queen was revising her notes from the council meeting held that morning, writing in Fanelian the draft for a new treaty with the Republic of Basram. With gentle mastery she traced the words with quill and ink. The slow breathing, her verdant eyes attentive, the tip of her tongue absently running across her lips. She didn't notice the balcony door sliding silently open until the icy wind blew in, rocking her short ponytail and sending such a shiver down her spine that she twitched and knocked over the inkwell with her hand. The liquid ran like a black-veined vine over the manuscript and unfurled a strong smell of damp charcoal.
The woman cursed through her teeth, knocking over the chair as she stood up in an attempt to clear the area to avoid a further disaster. She was about to call the guards stationed on the other side of the door when, out of the corner of her eye, she got the glimpse of an amorphous figure perched on the railing of the open balcony, its back to the night sky. She forgot her labours and focused on the two orbs-like eyes that seemed to hover like insects in the apparent face. The blond hair at the back of her neck stood on end in grave panic.
The ink reached her rosy hands and encircled them with its thickness. It was then that the creature burst into hundreds of black feathers that flew in all directions. Her scream was muffled by the turbulence.
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"When we came in, your majesty," reported a prostrate guard to Van as soon as he passed through the tall wooden door of the castle with one of his samurai. "The queen was curled up under the desk, papers all over the place and the chair knocked over. Her face and arms were covered in ink that had spilled on the furniture. The Lady was shaking and said there was something on the balcony, so we took her out of the study and put her in her room, and searched everywhere, but we couldn't find no trace of the thing she described or any of them black feathers she mentioned."
Van thanked the guard, ordered him to exercise discretion, not to write a report on the matter, and to share the order with other guards involved.
"As you command, your majesty," the guard replied before being dismissed.
The king gave a quick glance at the samurai beside him before walking away. The man took a couple of steps to follow him but stopped as soon as the king disappeared into one of the corridors.
Van's boots echoed through the castle at a quickened pulse until they came to a halt in front of his chambers. Two guards were stationed at the entrance and they bowed as he approached. Unheeding their reverence, Van slid the door open with a thunderous bang. A cry from Hitomi caught his attention and he found her sitting on the bed, holding her head in her hands. Merle was with her, the tabby tail tangled around the woman's ankles and rocking her in her arms. She shot Van an angry look and reprimanded him for being so careless with the woman's nerves in her condition, but he paid no attention and walked straight to his wife. Kneeling down in front of her, he called her name in a soft voice. A fire crackled in the fireplace.
Hitomi looked debased, with numerous dark handprints—her own hands, he wanted to assume—defiling her white and blue kimono. Van called her again and rested his gloved hand on her left knee. At the touch, she uncovered her face, dirty and pale, eyes fearful. She called out to him in a whisper and freeing herself from Merle she fell on her knees and into his arms. Van held her firmly, by the waist, by the blonde nape.
"I don't know if they're visions or callings," Hitomi confessed, burying her head in her husband's chest, "it's different and I know it hides something brutal, Van, I don't know what's going on... do you think it is… or is it you… is there something you're not telling me?" she asked, raising her face trying to see if there was anything he was hiding from her.
"There's nothing about me that you don't already know," he said, and kissed her forehead, tasting the dead earthiness of the ink.
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III
Calmness sifted white snow over the event as the days passed. Feathers continued to fall out of the corner of Hitomi's eyes like malevolent snowflakes that disappeared by the time she turned around but still left an icy trail in her chest.
Once again, the queen was under a starless sky, toying with her warm breath, blowing out great puffs of steam as she walked around the castle's small square. As a cold drizzle began to fall, she pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head. Despite feeling clammy underneath, she continued on her exercise, wanting to complete a lap before turning back. While there was no harm in at least trying to jog, she preferred not to risk it.
Halfway through the route, the sole of one of her running shoes came out and caught on the ground. She almost lost her balance, and after bending her knee to inspect the damage, she sighed.
"These were my last…"
She heard the sound of something crawling in the distance and turned her attention to it. It was late and, although sentries were posted in various parts of the castle, she doubted that anyone was there at this hour. A shadow rose lazily from between the corridor formed by two buildings. It was a man, no doubt, dragging something heavy behind him. Hitomi stood frozen in place.
The figure emerged from the darkness and was illuminated by the powerful light of the moons. It was Van, but she didn't find it comforting for her husband to be that silhouette and that noise. He walked forward and stopped a few feet in front of her.
"Hitomi?" He said in a deep voice, "Is it you?"
Hitomi remained silent and still, eyes fixed on him.
She was unfamiliar with the strong, half-naked man wearing a torn tunic that hung from his waist, the sash of swords holding it to his body. He was covered in dried clay, which formed dark maps over the muscles of his torso, shaved face and short hair. As the light drops touched him, they ran dirty on his skin. With his right hand uncovered, he dragged a sack with something deformed inside. The woman searched for a loving expression on his face, but didn't find it in the violet bags under his eyes, bright and hungry.
"Hitomi?" He repeated in a growly voice that ran down her spine in a shiver.
"When did you arrive?" she asked, avoiding answering his question.
The king had been away for weeks to deal with a problem with the Margrave of the southern border with Freid. He had sent word that he was finally scheduled to return in four more days, so Hitomi was surprised to see him standing in front of her now. Her instincts told her to fear this man, to recognise the danger of his twisted looks. He scanned his surroundings—the mountains, the white stone buildings, the dimly lit castle, the trees—before stopping to gaze at the water fountain in the centre.
"Whe—" he began, but fell silent abruptly. Hitomi waited for him to continue, but soon realised that he hadn't simply paused. The water droplets were suspended in mid-air, the vapour clouds in place. His eyes were unfocused and the mouth hung half-open in mid-word.
"Van?" she asked hesitantly.
The queen approached slowly, dragging her left foot as she walked. The floating droplets in the path clung to her body. She stopped in front of him, analysing his features, his clothes, his burden.
She found the years on his face where they should be—chiselled lines on his mouth, brow and eyes. His greying hair was dishevelled and shiny, but there was something feral in his expression, in the tense muscles of his broad body. His tattered clothing reminded her of the vandals from the borderlands.
Was it really Van, her husband, the king? He wasn't wearing her grandmother's pendant, nor his gloves that he rarely removed. He didn't even carry Fanelia's royal sword. The jute sack he clutched in his hand was as dirty as he was, the lumpy bulk left a damp trail behind him that she preferred not to think about. Hitomi swallowed and brought a hand to her rumbling chest, returning her attention to the man. Despite her misgivings, she found his wild, rugged appearance appealing.
She reached out a hand and touched his free arm at her side, only to pull it away with a cry of pain. Tiny needles dug into her fingers and dragged the skin of his arm with them. A putrid-smelling brown liquid poured from his wound. She screamed Van's name and managed to step back a couple of paces. From the clay on the man's skin, the flesh compressed like burning paper and a thick, foul-smelling substance gushed out of him, mixed with lumps of viscera.
"NO!" The woman screamed.
Closing her eyes was like piercing her eyelids with thorns. She brought her hands to her face howling in pain, her precious emeralds surrounded by the red of the blood burst inside them. The disintegration continued before her.
She fell to her knees and cried out, "It's a vision, it's not real!" A sickening stench penetrated her nose and she made a desperate effort to cover herself with the sleeve of her pullover.
The remains of what was once the man throbbed and spread across the ground. The shadows that inhabited the nooks and crannies of the trees danced in circles around her until they eclipsed sky, castle and bodies with their absolute black.
Hitomi, unable to see anything, was reduced to the sensation of her own blood kissing her lips with its metallic impurity and the inner acids wanting to escape from her mouth.
She was sinking.
The path's cobblestones became an invisible swamp, swallowing her in an inevitable embrace. Hitomi yanked her legs free, but the undulating motion and resting her weight in the bent sole caused her to lose her balance. Falling on her hands into the misshapen mass that had been a rough version of her husband, she cried out as she felt unrecognisable parts squish between her fingers. A flash of crimson emanated from the darkness, and she turned her red-rimmed eyes to the spot. Two scarlet irises floated in their white bubbles amongst the carcass.
The sweet vapours of sickness and death enveloped her. Coughing up the rough fluids of an empty stomach, a potent pain erupted from her chest and spread in cold waves throughout her body. She cried out again as an invisible claw squeezed her insides from within and pulled them out from between her legs. The queen writhed in her own and her false husband's fluids. Trying to hold back the pain, she brought a hand to her abdomen.
"No..." she said in agonised spasms, "...not this..."
And she screamed. Screamed. Screamed. Screamed. And from her mouth came out black feathers, numerous, infinite, that muffled her screams and covered everything, took away everything.
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IV
The hum of the water pulsed in her ears. The hollow kettledrum in her heart accompanied the sounds of slippers, knees and hands on the floor in the adjacent room. Her eyebrows bent in spasms; from her parched, pale lips escaped the gnashing of her teeth; her irises were hidden behind the curtains of her eyelids. Hitomi focused on the cold pins that prickled her skin as soon as the sway of water left her neck, knees, and part of her breasts exposed. Anything was better than acknowledging the agony that was chewing up her body.
She was curled up in a ball inside the bathtub, her arms folded across her chest and hands clutched over her heart like a cocoon protecting a lost future. The rhythmic accompaniment of the room ceased abruptly and all she heard were meaningless hisses. Her eyes, puffy and red, opened and closed. The bathroom was almost dark, the only strong light coming through the open door, but its spectral glow failed to illuminate her.
Heavy footsteps came closer, coming towards the bathroom. They stopped hesitantly in the doorway, before shuffling up beside her. A sour smell of sweat, dampness, and earth enveloped her as a large figure dropped to the floor and leaned against the bathtub.
In the darkness, her body and the water were almost as black, but nothing could prevent the opaque smell of blood around her, nor the large stain on her white nightgown between her legs, in the shape of an open red flower, floating in a dark sea. The figure let out a whimper and called out to her in a cracked voice.
"Hitomi?"
"Van?" she asked in a faint whisper, opening her eyes and turning towards him.
Slowly, she made out the blurred outline of his body. The man lifted the hand he held on the edge of the tub, its pristine white marred by a wet trail of dirty fingerprints, and brought it up to the queen's face in a caressing gesture. Hitomi gasped and retreated to the opposite side of the tub. Something snapped behind the man's murky eyes, and he dropped his head, his unruly, stiff hair concealing his face.
Hitomi eyed him warily, focusing on the dark frame of his beard on the thin face and the contrast of his fingers, poking out from his torn gloves against the white stone. The pendant hung around his neck.
"It's you," she said, her eyes moist.
He looked up and repeated the motion of cupping her face. This time she accepted the touch and embraced him as if she feared drowning in the scarlet sea. Van pressed her against him, burying his face in her neck.
"Van..." she said against his neck, her own warm breath bringing back memories of the foul nightmare. "I thought that this time... that now—"
"Everything will be fine," he interrupted her.
The man shivered. The embrace turned cold with the water from Hitomi's body soaking into his. She shook with weeping and stumbling words.
"...the feathers, the black feathers…"
The knot in her throat impeded her speech and expanded to squeeze her heart and twist her belly. In their tight embrace, she discovered that her husband's coat and clothes were torn at the back. She dug her frozen fingers into the parallel slits, feeling the hot edge of the wounded skin on her fingertips. Her king wheezed.
Outside, through the window, Van could see snowflakes falling, pinkish and yellow with the first rays of the day's sun. He squeezed his eyes shut when he couldn't stand the burning any longer.
A tear streamed down his face, and many more followed.
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A/N: I hope it wasn't that hard?
Thanks for reading and for your reviews and support! It means a lot.
Zw