Escaflowne 1. Dilandau Albatou

**Disclaimer:_ Vision of Escaflowne,_ its characters and events do not belong to me, nor am I making any money from the writing of this story. I'm just having fun in the owners' sand box.**

**A/N: Apologies in advance for any mistakes you might find. I'm far from perfect. Criticism will be framed and hung on a wall (will show pictures for proof!) and flames are always welcome (Dilandau says thanks). That said, welcome to the grandiose first chapter, in which much frolicking occurs... Enjoy!**

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**I. Dilandau Albatou**

It was all the rain's fault.

Nothing but that unstoppable force of nature could ever have this strong a grip over the young boy's heart, constricting his chest and clogging his throat without his permission. It could only be the rain, for he surely felt like he was suffocating. His breaths were spasmic and his face was wet enough that if a thunderstorm broke out overhead it would not be any worse. And if it was not the rain, what would be the cause for his condition? Certainly not the other boys, girls, parents or neighbours - why should they and their opinions have any effect on him? No, he knew from long ago that anything they had to say was worthless and had shed that concern at an early age, so the thought of it was laughable.

He wanted to believe that so badly.

So that left only the rain.

The boy's day had started no differently from any other before it. Perhaps the birds had been singing a bit louder than usual, but everything did use to have a harsher edge to it in the mornings, when one was still in the protective embrace of the hidden world beneath the bed covers. The sun had been crisply shining through the worn curtains in his window...

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_...while the mattress had taken on every curve of his petit frame during the night and the pillow had leaked one more feather to crown his pale forehead. The blankets had settled nicely around him, leaving not one gap for the cold to breach. And the boy, so quiet and peaceful in his fortress of plumes one would not know he was there, rolled to the other side, dispersing in one blow the equilibrium that had been perfected and finetuned throughout the night._

_In moments, he was up and stretching his hands to the ceiling, willing his unusually toned muscles to awaken also. His efforts were slow moving, but he eventually sprouted to life as his mother's call came from the next room. It was time to start his daily routine._

_Clothed in record time, he set out to do his morning chores, helping his mother around the house with any and everything she needed. It was hard but simple work and it was a vital help to his mother due to her quickly deteriorating health, but as far as the youth was concerned, it was "dead time": time that was not his; time that went by wastefully spent. Only after the daily cleaning, shopping and tidying (with the occasional rushed lessons about which letter was which over the accumulated dust before wiping) had been done, did _his_ time come, right after glorious lunch. Once the sun reached its peak, his mother's pots and pans blared him a secret warning to stand by. After the eating, time would be his again._

_The afternoon was the part of the day he liked best; when he didn't have to listen to his mother and was obligated to do nothing but what he so pleased. He endured the wait till midday, because he knew that the rewards that came afterwards were worth it. He was free to unlock his wilful and independent mind from where he had kept it safe before going to bed in the night. And so it was that this particular afternoon came and he left the house and his mother's authority for the day, ready to enter the second stage of his routine._

_The crisp morning sun had given way to a grey light, blurred by some heavy storm clouds starting to amass overhead and threatening to overflow the small village. The youth dismissed them after a cursory glance and continued on his way down the street._

_The miniature town where he lived was an isolated place, located on a clearing surrounded by thick woods on all sides and consisting of a gathering of two handfuls of farmers and herders plus their respective families. They had tucked themselves in this faraway corner of the world, remembered by no outsiders but caring not for them either. A stream flowed by not far from the outer edges of the village and provided it with all the water its inhabitants needed. In self-sufficient peace and detachment from the world beyond, these people lived with their children and animals. Everyone knew whom everyone was related to, and everyone knew where everyone lived. It was a peaceful and familiar environment, no ill will existed among the people. Except in his case._

_There was a healthy amount of children in the village. More than enough to take over their fathers' work when they were old enough and perpetuate the peaceful settlement, guaranteeing continuity. The petit boy now making his way through the streets, however, was hardly ever seen amongst his peers, or with anyone else for that matter. He had been long dubbed the "black sheep of the village" - in less kind terms._

_There had once been a time when he had tried to make friends with the other children, but not any more. Those days were over. By now, he had convinced himself that there was nothing he could do but make good of what he had - at least no one was openly violent towards him, just mean - and thus he lived by himself and for himself. That may have been an unusual way of life for someone with only eight years spent on the world, but he was a very unique boy through and through._

_The only person in this micro-universe that the boy liked was his mother__, but not for the same reasons that little boys usually have for loving their families. He liked her because she was the one who treated him best in the world - with indifference.__ She was also the living, breathing remains of one far more treasured, of whom he had nothing except a picture. And for that, he hated her._

_The youth had a picture of his mother, taken during pregnancy, with her arms draped around both her swollen womb and her grinning husband. Torn and frayed at the edges, the differently shaded tones of brown that silhouetted the individuals were starting to look all the same, but the boy kept it with him at all times, resolute to hold on to it until the paper became too old to bind the image to itself. The woman there was his real mother, the one with __alabaster skin and long brown locks so light that when the sun touched them they seemed blonde__ -__lay buried beneath the shell__ the one he saw everyday, who __always wore her hair down in disarray, mirroring her health condition,__ and hated. That brown-toned woman was the one he loved, the one person he knew would never curse him as everyone else did, but most of all, she was the only one who loved him back._

_Many of the townspeople said that his mother's stress after his father had died weeks before he was due to be born was the reason he was so special. He had been hearing the whispers since birth; about how he was "different" and how he had been "fostered by the devil". As a baby, he had been more alike an angel in his paleness than any other infant, but his moon-kissed hair and eyes the colour of sin and blood had him seggregated._

_Now, little over eight years later, the boy found himself utterly alone, apart from his picture. The woman he called mother was cold and falling deeper into depression and disease; she never spoke to him unless it was to give him an order. Both tolerated each other's presence. He had no friends, since none of the other children wanted anything to do with his abnormal eyes, so it was only him, his picture of what could have been, and his loneliness._

_However, the boy had somehow managed to preserve his spirit, his wit and his determination throughout the years. From the moment the boy had realised that no one on that place cared for him in the least, he had gathered what knowledge he had accumulated and made a resolution, a very specific objective to keep in mind, to lighten his days and give him hope and something to strive towards. And strive he did, working to become independent and self-sufficient, like a one-man version of the remote town he lived in, and he swore that as soon as possible, he would run away and leave that cursed place forever. That was his goal and that was how he spent his afternoons._

_He would do all sort of things, anything that appealed to him and anything that his eight-year-old body could do. The lessons in reading and writing he tried to extricate from his mother on a daily basis were proof of his strategical intelligence, as he knew that, although he didn't care much for books, knowing how to read properly would undoubtedly serve him well. He imagined that the greatest sources of information in the outside world would come to him in a written format, and information was always something that could save your life. He hadn't been making many progresses in his studies, but it was not so much for lack of effort, as it was for lack of resources. He had no books to practice his reading on, and whatever lessons he got from his mother, the only one whom he could get to talk to him, were vague and incomplete, mumbled and doodled on dust, occasionally contradictory._

_But there were other things the boy did in order to prepare for the glorious day of his departure. He had fashioned himself a sort of hidden base among the trees next to the road that went down to the river. It was his place, no one else knew of its existence, and it was where he could plan his activities and tuck away his treasures for safekeeping. Equipped with a clear view over the river, a pair of torn blankets and a jar of wild berries he collected from the bushes lining the river road, it was where he hid and learnt to make use of the two most precious items he had ever found while roaming the wilderness around the village._

_To him, "precious" meant that it was something tremendously useful, not that it would fetch a pretty price in a market. He had no need for superfluous items. As such, his two most "precious" discoveries were, in fact, not much more other than two hunks of rusting metal that he had found lying by a corpse on the bottom of a ravine._

_Most people, if not all, would have run at the sight and stench, or would have been shocked or disgusted, but not him. He had stared at it for a minute or two, unperturbed by the cloud of insects buzzing overhead, until the glint of steel somehow managed to reflect the sun and catch his eye. He had spent the rest of the day by the body, mesmerized by every detail it had to offer. It was the first concrete proof he had come upon of an outside world, separate from the village._

_The cold body was male, but it was no longer possible to tell how old it had been at the time of death. The clothes it bore were so fine and rich that the village boy considered it a waste to wear them as such. The ornamented cloth, with its lively sunset colours was the sort of thing you would normally hang on a wall, much too delicate to wrap a body with. The two deep slashes ripping it from side to side and the dark brown stain were almost blasphemous._

_The shiny golden figures and patterns emblazoning the shirt and coat had left the boy entranced for some good hours - making him wonder about the outside world. Was everybody so rich and fine there that they all dressed like this, or on the contrary, would he ever make it as far as to wear something of such quality? It was, after all, what he was hoping to accomplish. The complex patterns were so beautiful - unlike anything he had ever seen at the village - that he found it hard to believe that real people could have created them. Surely beauty of this kind was reserved for the gods. Inevitably, after that, his gaze followed the outstretched arms and rested upon the items that had brought up his interest in the first place._

_In complete contrast to the elegant display on the man, two old weapons had lain abandoned some distance away. They were so mistreated that the boy realised at once that the man wrapped in finesse could not have been their owner. Rust spots blossomed from the centre of the blades and the edges were crooked and chipped, but the youth immediately claimed the sword and hunting knife as his own and considered them to be his greatest possessions._

_The day after that had marked the beginning of his self-tutelage in mastering the weapons, practicing as much as he could when he was sure that no one was watching. While his persistency was showing in his building muscles, his technique was clumsy at best. Without a teacher or even a role model to observe, the moves and strategies were left for his imagination to conjure. It was something he was hoping to remedy as soon as he got out of that purgatory of a town._

_But none of this presently occupied the mind of the petit red-eyed with silver hair called Dilandau. As the rain-filled clouds rolled into town, Dilandau silently wandered the streets, waiting for a destination to meet him._

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Large drops of rain fell on his face, repeatedly drilling his skin as if demanding to be admitted inside. Dilandau could have said many things and offered many excuses as to what was going on if someone were to see him now, but he would not lie to himself. After all, if he could not be honest to himself and admit that the burning in his eyes was caused not by the prickling rain, but by the flow of tears stemming from behind his lashes, then he would be more alone than he ever wanted to be.

What was confusing him, though, was the "why" behind those tears.

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_Dilandau had wanted to take the day off and just relax, but given his lack of ideas he was considering heading to his retreat instead and practice some sword moves he had seen in his dreams. Or maybe, he thought suddenly as a pleased smile erupted on his face, he would just go for a swim in the river. It was bound to rain sooner or later, so he had the perfect excuse for coming in the house wet at night. He liked his genius that could come up with such brilliant plans and mentally gave himself a pat on the back._

_Turning towards the familiar river road, he scanned its edges without much thought. He could see the spot where one was supposed to turn among the brambles in order to get to his shelter, and one glance was enough to tell him that another day had gone by without it being discovered by the town folk. His smile returned and his stride lengthened, as he descended the foot-made path to the river. His contentment soon faltered, though, when the shore came into view._

_Splashing and tossing in the water were the other children, a group of six he knew well. They were his age, some a little older, and had made clear on many an occasion what exactly it was that they thought of Dilandau. Even though he was slightly disheartened about having to abandon his plan, the red-eyed did not linger and turned back in hopes he had not been spotted. It was, unfortunately, too late._

_A shrill call accompanied by laughs from the others made him spin back to face his age-peers, fists clenched._

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He sat, numb, by the river's edge, watching the storm unfurl around him. Like any spectator, he looked but did not participate and therefore he was unaffected by it as well. A part of his mind told him he should be freezing, but another fraction of it was locking his muscles in place and telling him to keep looking at the rain falling in the river and creating warm ripples on its surface.

There was so much water. Around him, above him, on him, in him. It begged to cleanse and appease him, but the same portion of his mind that had disabled his muscles, had him unable to grasp anything other than the fact that he was still crying and no matter how much water fell and rippled and flowed, his hands were still stained red.

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_"Look! It's Dilly-freak!" The first one yelled, only to be followed by a chorus of others with their own taunts and jeers - always laughing._

_"Hey, Dilly, been whining to your dad lately?"_

_"Must have been, my mum said this weather was the work of the devil..."_

_"I saw him with his stupid picture the other day."_

_Dilandau remained stoic. His eight-year-old face set in serious stone and his body tensed with un-vented anger and rage. Those were two emotions that always assaulted him when in the presence of this crowd, but lately, a fledgling third had been testing its wings and urging him a bit further still - pride. He was in such inner turmoil, ignoring the comments thrown at him and focusing on showing no trace of pain or frailty, that his fingernails were cutting crescents into his palms, drawing blood. If one were to touch petit Dilandau at that point, it was impossible to tell how he would react._

_"Shut up," Dilandau ground out through his teeth, glaring as fiercely as he could. If the bathing children wanted a devil, they were getting one fine sight - red eyes ablaze with the shadow of repressed emotions dancing in their depths. But the group was blind to all but the superficial and never realised how perturbed he really was. Either way, it would not have made a difference even if they had. They pressed on._

_"Oh, really?"_

_"What's that, Dilly-freak?"_

_"Yea, you gonna throw your picture at us if we don't?"_

_"Oooh, please don't hurt us..."_

_"He's just scared!"_

_Booming laughter resounded, from one margin of the river to the other._

_"I said, shut up," he growled again, more forcefully this time._

_"Make us!"_

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"It was an accident..." he whispered brokenly to the body laying cold at his feet, its lifeless hand plunged into the rippling water and invisible behind its dark veil; a mockery of a gesture that would have been natural for any living being; something that he had been hoping to do not an hour before.

All Dilandau remembered was springing forward after that last remark. He knew they must have rolled all the way down to the shore, where he was now. He also knew that the others must have run off when they saw that their friend wasn't moving. But the petit boy could not bring himself to remember any details of those moments. His thoughts were a jumble, and he did not know why.

Why was he so confused? Why was he crying? Why was he so afraid?

His muscles were beginning to uncoil, giving him some control over his body again. As if a wall had come down, his mind leapt into action and one certainty suddenly came with screaming clarity. The time had come to go. He had to leave the village now.

Just as abruptly as his mind was made up, Dilandau was running back to his shelter to pick up his things. He did not dare go back up to his house; who knew what could be going on in the village by now.

There was nothing more for him in this place.

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**Pallas, Asturia. Eight years later...**

"Onii-sama!" Fifteen-year-old Celena Schezar called out in joy as the freighter's ramp lowered and her brother came into view. Realising that he probably would not hear her over the noise, she stood on her tiptoes and tried to reach above the crowd to wave at him. She was tall, but unfortunately the others around her were taller.

Her brother was Allen Schezar, Knight Caeli of Asturia, and he was returning home after a long absence of four years in which he had been serving on a remote outpost. Celena had been living in the Palace at the capital during that time, staying with her best friend, Princess Millerna Aston, who was the same age as her. But friends were not the same as family - even if she sometimes said Millerna was a true sibling and Allen a nuisance - and the youngest Schezar had thoroughly missed her brother's company. The mere sight of his golden hair made her heart feel complete again and she could not wait to hug him after being so long apart.

Allen was her only family, after their mother's death. Their father, Leon Schezar, had left wife and children behind long ago to pursue some wild dream and had never been seen again. Celena did not remember him very well, having been very young at the time, but the stories she heard from her brother did not make her wish she had kept those memories either. Since then, Celena and Allen had been inseparable, if not physically then in mind. They looked after each other and acted as the other's sustaining pillars. No power in Gaea could ever hope to break or damage these two siblings' bond.

She suddenly realised with some despair that while she had been reaching heavenward, she had lost sight of her brother. She was just gathering up enough courage to ask a taller stranger if he could see the Knight when a hand came down on her shoulder from behind. Celena jumped in surprise, but afterwards was incapable of waiting to fully turn around to throw herself at the grinning blond clad in blues behind her.

"Celena! Can't... breathe..." He offered in the way of greeting, squeezing her back.

"Oh, you deserve it for scaring me, Allen!" She admonished but pulled back all the same to admire her brother. She quirked an eyebrow and held a lock of the long hair that had spilled over her brother's shoulder as he settled his bags down. "What is this, Onii-sama? You never told me you were letting your hair grow."

He looked around, probably to inspect if there were any ladies nearby to see him get embarrassed under his little sister's gaze. "I suppose it never came up..."

"Turning fashionable, are we? Are the effects of having all those women constantly after you finally showing, brother dearest?" Celena said with an amused laugh, and when he turned even more uncomfortable she laughed harder and hugged him again. "I missed you!"

"I'm no longer sure whether I missed you too or not, Celena. Only you could ever make me this embarrassed," he teased, only to receive the lightest of punches on the arm and even more laughter. Pulling her off him and away from the crowd, he produced a small parcel from the interior of his coat and handed it to the platinum-haired teenager. "Happy delayed birthday, little sister!"

She squealed in delight, opening the gift at once, and just when he thought her smile could not get bigger or more radiant, it did. Allen had missed her spirit and although he was tired, he could not wait to hear about everything that had happened while he had been away.

He had some interesting news of his own to share with his fifteen-year-old sister.


	2. Celena Schezar

**A/N: For those who don't know/remember, Jeture is the Sea Dragon God of Asturia and Red is the equivalent in the Gaean calendar to August. Enjoy!**

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**II. Celena Schezar**

"Thanks again for your kind hospitality!" Celena Schezar called out from her carriage window with a wave of a white-gloved hand. She watched the Duke of Edissi and his family standing at the front of their mansion bidding their own farewells, as the horses kicked in to motion and took the young Asturian away.

As soon as they were out of sight, she sighed in relief and let herself sink into the cushioned seat. The Duke's family had been extremely nice and courteous to her during her visit, but that only meant that she was required to be at her best in return. The Schezar household, despite its tendency to get involved in scandalous affairs, was one of Asturia's finest, and held on high esteem by King Aston himself. However, there were no doubts as far as gossip went that what respect there was among the remaining Asturian aristocrats for the youngest Schezar generation had derived from that particular fact, and both siblings felt the need to constantly prove themselves worthy of it. Scandal upon scandal had rocked their status in high society, and if not for their friendship with the Royal Family, it would not have taken long for them to fade into social disgrace.

Allen and Celena's father, Leon Schezar, had left wife and children behind when they were still young, squandering the family fortune on things yet to be known and then taking along with him what little had remained. After that, the siblings' mother – Encia – too had fallen ill and not resisted the double assault of her sentimental pain and physical ravaging. The two children had thus been left alone to fend for themselves and make their way in the world. Fortunately, they had had the support of the Royals throughout those trying moments and later, but the Schezar's flair for controversy was not to end on that generation.

Early in his teenage years, Allen had decided that he was going to become the greatest swordsman of Gaea and had left Celena alone to live at the Royal Palace and gone out to see the world. Two years later, he was back and in a daring sequence of events joined the Asturian Army as a Knight Caeli. His success was completely unexpected and it brought him great reputation, but even after having his dream fulfilled, his Schezar restlessness would not allow him to remain in Pallas for long. Pursuing a forbidden love affair with the eldest Princess Marlene had certainly not been the wisest way to invite peace and quiet into his life, and shortly after that particular fact had come out into the open, he was being dispatched to an outpost far from the temptations of the capital. He had just returned some months ago, and the whole city seemed to be holding its breath for the wayward Schezar's next blunder.

Celena was quite different from her brother in that regard, but perhaps that was due to the fact that she was female and had therefore received a different, milder, sort of education. She remembered living more years at the Palace and with the King's family than at her own home, on account of her brother's wanderings. She had been brought up alongside the youngest Princess, whom she had come to see as an adopted sister. Her manners were flawless and her entire posture spoke of _delicatessen_. But for all the training in the world, her Schezar genes were still a part of her and anyone who knew her well could attest that she was an intelligent and strong-minded, albeit gentle and peace-loving, young lady.

As such, her natural disposition slightly deviated from what was considered proper for a noblewoman. She appreciated politeness and candour, which greatly tempered her more adventurous Schezar side to a point of near non-existence, yet she preferred a relaxed posture rather than the sour-faced distant gaze over the nose or the overall uptight attitude that was expected from highly respectful ladies, and proof of it was that just now, her back ached from being constantly on alert to comply to every little piece or rule of etiquette that had ever been created, and then the unofficial ones as well. She could still feel her brother's proud eyes at the back of her head as he watched her every move, though. For someone who followed them so loosely himself, he was surprisingly adamant that she did not follow in his footsteps. The Duke, and especially the Duchess, had applauded her on more than one occasion for it too.

Celena knew all too well what the real purpose of this visit had been. In fact, she had known for a long time that this would come to pass. She had seen it happen before to a friend once, and heard on an almost monthly basis of one or another case. Women were trained since infancy in every possible way to become fine and elegant ladies, able housewives, cultured enough to have a quiet talk to and pretty enough to go by as a nice ornament to men on more public events. She hated the way things worked, the disregard masked by concern towards the female gender and her lack of active voice at times. Most of all, though, she hated her own awareness of the fact that at fifteen, legally old enough to marry, she was now expected to be away from her own family – wrecked as it was – and taking on the role of wife, future mother and company to the first man that came along that filled her brother's requisites.

She knew from experience in similar matters how her brother would conduct the matter, knew that there was nothing she could do to control what happened other than offer some input that would go by as unheard if necessary. And there was no possibility that the way these things would be done could be changed, for when it came to her, her usually unconventional brother was very insistant on upholding tradition.

When Allen had last returned to Pallas, months ago, he had brought with him this objective of marrying his little sister, and who knew where or why he had gotten that idea into his head. That very week had marked the start of the search for the perfect husband that so disgusted Celena. Powerless to do anything other than look calmly from behind azure eyes, the youngest Schezar sat and silently prayed for fortune to turn a kind eye her way, while being introduced to one heir to a high family of Gaea after another.

The Edissi had not been the first she had visited for this purpose. Her brother had discreetly paraded her to people he knew, under some excuse or other about a birthday or his long period of absence. Little by little, the gossip that Celena Schezar was "searching" for a husband had pretty much become unofficial public knowledge. Fortunately for her, no one had actively sought her out yet, presumably because of the shadows of past scandals that hung over her family name. Still, it was something that could happen at any time without notice and she was coming to dread all these trips Allen set up for her more each time. So far, luck had been on her side; though she had started cursing the faded blonde hair, light blue eyes and graceful figure that nearly every one complimented her on.

She supposed she was learning to surrender to her fate, for this time she had actually started to like her suitor and was hoping that things did work out for the best, if only just so that the fastidious search would be over. Elric Edissi was a fine man of passionate grey eyes and unruly shoulder-length brown locks, sharp and charming, but on a conversation the both of them had shared – a private conversation that she was certain his parents and Allen had everything to do with – he had admitted he preferred women with "some personality." He had not realised the insult and continued with his merry talking as if it was nothing extraordinary. As far as he was concerned, the youngest Schezar was just one more hollow-head with pretty curls on top, but that little comment had taken the liking out of Celena and she had made sure to appear as much of a "hollow-head" as possible from there on, lest he came to any sort of realisations.

This, of course, had resulted on her putting even more effort into performing everything as etiquette stated, and Elric's parents started liking her even more because of it. She had pleased them so much, Allen had actually been convinced that that was where she would be staying the rest of her life, made up an excuse and left for Pallas a week early, leaving her alone in their dreadful company. Finally, Elric had broken his news to the Duke and Duchess and she was free to go home again.

_Won't Allen be surprised_, she thought mildly to herself and let a smile curve her lips before sighing again. She hated having to play porcelain doll all the time, but image was everything for a person of her statute. Looking out the carriage's little dirty window to her left, she saw the forests encircling Pallas roll into view. The sun was setting on the other side of her transport and the view of the gold-tinted branches being rustled by the wind made her wish she were outside.

It must have been a wonderful temperate afternoon and Celena found herself cursing her status as a woman yet again. She could ask to sit next to the driver outside, but even if he let her it would hardly seem proper and Allen was bound to hear of it. Then, as always, he would go on and on about how she was supposed to behave and how it was all for her well-being, and she ended up as the one feeling guilty for her actions. Maybe if she closed her eyes and slept for a while, things would go by more quickly.

She let the rhythmic clattering of the horses' hooves flood and soothe her. The smell of the animals reached her faintly, but it was not completely unpleasant. Her body moved with every little bump on the road and even that lulled her into a semi-hypnotic daze.

Then everything abruptly stopped and all sounds were replaced by those of the forest. The leaves high above were singing and the birds among them chattered happily, as if thrilled with something about to happen. She smiled through her closed eyes, wanting to be that cheerful, that free.

Casting the thought aside, she wondered instead on why it was taking so long to be on the move again. It would be high night soon and the woods were not exactly as welcoming then. She was reasoning that maybe something had fallen off and the driver was retrieving it, when a scream of pain made her blood freeze. She snapped her eyes open in fear.

She did not have a chance to peer out the dusty window, for the door was jerked open, a rough hand encircled her wrist and she was pulled out. Celena fell ungracefully to a heap on the dirt road and noticed the pair of mud-covered boots right in front of her eyes. The metallic end of a sword's sheath hung next to them and she was suddenly paralysed in fear. Snide remarks and mocking laughter floated above, but she was incapable of registering it.

She tried looking somewhere else to regain her composure, but instead her eyes fell upon another figure sprawled on the ground next to her. It was the driver, and a dagger through the chest tinted his shirt red. She was beyond movement now, her muscles so tight it was hard to breathe. Then all air left her in a long piercing scream of her own when the same large hands grabbed her roughly once more.

Their grip was short-lived, however, and Celena curled back upon herself on the ground, without knowing what to do. She had no memory of ever being this frightened before, and wrapped her arms around herself trying to dispel the tears of fear and nervousness that were flowing freely down her face. Her muscles gradually began unclenching as her mind slowed down a notch. She had yet to look up and see the men around her, but did not have to in order to know that they were very probably thieves hiding in the woods. Maybe killers!

_Oh, Jeture, save me!_ Her eyes shut on reflex and fear escalated up her spine in a chilling wave, ready to paralyse her again. This time, though, she decided to try to keep a cool mind and fight off what instinct forced upon her. At least the man with the large hands was no longer so close in front of her, so maybe they would just take whatever they wanted and walk away. Her ears started to open and all sort of sounds rushed into her weary head.

The thieves were talking, not all too pleased if she was any good at reading their tone. _Probably frustrated about finding more dresses than gold_, she thought and would have smiled if only that didn't meant that attentions would be focusing on her afterwards. They had assembled somewhere to her left, towards the back of the carriage, and she risked a glance. What she found made her gasp and stare.

There were five of them and her guess had been half-right. They were indeed upset and some of her dresses were lying on the road, but there was something else, or rather, someone else. He wore a dark cloak and had his head covered. He daringly pointed a sword at the other five while talking.

"I won't say it again! If you have any love whatsoever for your sorry asses, you'll leave!" His voice was commanding, but somehow soft in comparison to the other men there. Celena felt an irresistible urge to just go there and hug the man in thanks - her saviour! However, that little bubble of joy soon burst when the thieves only jeered and laughed as if they had heard a joke at a tavern.

"Let's find out if you're really up to that fancy heroic talk after I kick the stuffing out of you, boy!" One of them drawled, pulling out his sword to the sound of the others' cheers.

The thief had to be at least twice the size of her rescuer, in both width and height. His clothes had faded to an indistinct brownish grey from wear and accumulated dirt and he had no hair to go with them. A few teeth were missing for sure, if the way he talked was anything to go by. Celena gave out a small cry and prayer when he charged at her saviour. The thief's sword rose to shine off the two rising moons' light and he lunged downward with practised strength. Celena could not bear to watch.

"Is that all you can do, old man?" Her head rose to the now familiar voice and looked again. Her rescuer had dodged the blow; he was all right! Before relief even had a chance to stop washing over her, he danced under the other's outstretched arm and laid his blade on the back of the thief's neck. "You're slow as a cow!" He laughed, and then turned serious. "And I don't do heroics!"

His blade retracted, so he could better swing the hilt to the spot a breath of a second later, and the burly, toothless thief instantly fell cold to the ground. Celena could not help crying out again and closing her eyes, but then opened them just as fast and cocked her head in awe-struck curiosity. There was no blood. Everyone had turned silent and the stranger directed his sword at the remaining four, going through them one by one with his concealed gaze.

"Anyone else?" Again, the young Schezar marvelled at the power held behind the voice. Obviously, the other thieves could feel it too, because they just put away their own weapons and rushed back to the forest, taking their fallen friend as fast as their feet permitted.

Both the stranger and Celena stood still for a few seconds, just watching the trees through which the five had just vanished, until the sound of metal brought her back to where she knelt on the ground. Her saviour was sheathing his sword and making his way towards her.

"I truly must thank you, sir! Who knows what could have taken place if you had not been here." He shrugged and offered her a hand up. She gladly took it and stood up, waiting for an answer. None came, for he was staring at her; she could feel the eyes beneath the hood locked on her. She eyed him back with a measure of curiosity. "Are you well, sir?"

"Huh?" His unnerving focus broke, and he slowly lowered his hood to look at her. "Sorry, I'm fine", he told her, failing to notice how unmoving and abnormally large her eyes had just become. He continued. "I suppose that wasn't very 'gentlemanish' of me. You just look a lot like..."

Any further rambling he could have gotten into was suddenly cut short as Celena fainted and he had to dive to catch her before she hit the ground...

––––––––––

When next Celena came to, it was morning already and she did not remember much of what had happened. The first thing to enter her hazy head was of how hard and uncomfortable her bed was. Then it came back to her: she was still in the carriage. She did not open her eyes, for the sun was bathing her face, and lazily stretched her arms.

She had had the worst dream ever. Some foul thieves had stopped her on the road and she had been saved by a... She shuddered.

Warmth stopped coming to her cheeks and she wondered what had happened to the sun. Opening her eyes, she came upon the wondering face of a silver haired man with eyes red as wine, hovering inches above her. There was no time to think and she did the only thing she could do – she screamed.

The man peering through the carriage's window was startled beyond his wits and jumped back on instinct – effectively banging his head on the roof along the way.

"Damn it! What was that for? I saved you, remember!" He growled at her, pacing outside and rubbing his head. "It's not like I'm going to hurt you or anything, you know?"

"I am terribly sorry, sir!" She answered him, after cringing slightly at his manners and placing a hand over her rushing heart. So it was not a dream after all. "But it was not very nice of you to come upon me like that either. You frightened me." She stepped outside and noticed that the former driver was nowhere in sight and there was a small pile of ash by the front wheel.

"I thought you were awake," he told her more calmly, determining his abused head was ready for another go if need be. Then he seemed to read her line of thought as he observed her and answered her unspoken questions. "I buried the old man last night and there's some food, if you'd like something to eat... my lady.

She had to smile at that. At least he seemed to be trying to act "gentlemanishly" as he had put it, but it was obvious he was not very used to it. The words sounded somewhat wrong coming from his mouth.

"Thank you. I would very much appreciate that, yes." She continued studying him as he leaned over the burnt out fire and handed her breakfast on an improvised plate. The smell of burnt food immediately assailed her nostrils, but she accepted it with a polite smile. She saw him turn to absently look around afterwards and quickly put the "food" aside. "With all due respect, you are not from Asturia, are you, sir?"

"Not really." Her red-eyed saviour turned to face her again. "Just..." - he pondered for a moment - "a wanderer looking for adventure, I guess," he concluded brilliantly with a passing smile. "Oh, you finished eating. That was fast. But it's good, now we can be on our way! You're going to Pallas too, I take it?"

She nodded, too dazzled by his voice to speak out an answer. The feeling of power she had sensed earlier was gone now, or rather, it was lying dormant. She also remembered that his voice had been different from the thieves' ones, softer. She could see now why. He was young, apparently the same age as her...

"Hello?"

Her attention snapped back to what he was saying, murmuring a timid apology under her breath. He was already a couple of meters ahead on the road, a small bag slung over his right shoulder and looking expectantly at her. _Is he serious_, she asked herself. Out loud, though, she said: "You are not planning on going all the way to Pallas on foot, are you, sir?"

"Yes, I am," he stated, looking for the sun amid the branches overhead to check the time. "Now come on, I don't know how much further it is, but the sooner we're there, the better."

"I cannot _walk_ to Pallas!" She reasoned, crossing her arms in front of her. "We have a perfectly nice carriage and horses here, why not use them?"

"I don't like carriages," he said simply, making it sound like it was the universal truth behind truths and if she could not understand something as simple as that, she was not worthy.

"Well, I do not like walking." A light pout formed on her face as she looked dramatically to the side. She had no idea where all this was coming from; under normal circumstances, never would she act like this, but she decided it was a nice change. He paused, considered this, and fumed at her.

"All right then. I'll walk, you ride. I'm not your servant, anyway," he said, turning and continuing down the path. "Bye!"

Celena stared. Somehow, her speech had backfired. Didn't this person know a thing about how to act towards a lady like her? She ran after him and held on to his sleeve. "Sir! Wait! You cannot just leave me here alone! How will I make it home on my own?"

One of his eyebrows twitched, but then, possibly realising how helpless she really was, he just threw his hands up in the air. "Fine! I'll take you in the carriage to wherever it is you're going and then be on my way. Is _that_ alright with you, milady?"

"Yes," she replied, her urgent face instantly melting. To wherever she was going... _Allen!_, she remembered. He must be dead worried with her delay already. She knew he had received her warning letter saying she would arrive the previous evening. She was almost half a day late already. The red-eyed stranger was opening the carriage's door for her, but after an adventurous night like the one before and a dispute like the one now, she felt that she had the right to do one more thing the way she wanted. "Would you mind if I went up front with you? The day is so beautiful..."

He saw no problem with it and helped her up instead, grumbling to himself all the way. The dress got stuck on some loose wooden boards and the delicate fabric tore but it was nothing Celena could not handle. Until she leaned onto the seat and almost fell backwards. Gaining her balance, she glanced over her shoulder and found that most of the boards there were gone. The man was climbing up himself on the other side and she shot him a questioning look. He noticed and smiled sheepishly.

"I needed some wood to start the fire for the food..." It made some sense, but she thought better not to ask him why he could not have used some dead branches instead of those specific boards. They were in the middle of a forest, after all. He picked up the reigns and got the horses on the move, but did not offer anything further in terms of starting a conversation. Not one used to silence, it was slightly unnerving Celena.

"You were pretty fabulous last night," she said with measured words.

He looked at her awkwardly, but otherwise spoke normally. He had not expected to be complimented. "I had the element of surprise on my side and they had no idea who I was or what I was capable of, so it was easy. And the cape really gave me that creepy-guy look, don't you think?" He was smiling now, seemingly very proud of himself for having outsmarted the villains. His quick-changing dispositions made Celena laugh softly.

"I do not know. Maybe if you had your hood down it would have scared them more..." The look of hurt that flashed on his features before he abruptly faced the road again was not lost on her, and she was instantly sorry for making fun of what was obviously a sensitive spot. She laid a hand on his arm. "I apologise! That was a terrible thing for me to say! I was not thinking... Please sir, it is not what I feel at all!"

"Sure..." Then a while later: "I guess I'm the one who should be apologising. I bet I scared you to hell and back last night." She smiled and shook her head, although secretly inside, she was admitting that that had been a nice understatement. "Besides, you're probably right, it would be a neat little trick to use if they were any good in fighting or scaring them off with _this_ sword failed."

"I suppose I overreacted a bit, I am sorry, sir. But what do you mean, is there something wrong with your sword?"

"Hell yes!" He put a hand over his mouth, remembering himself he was in the presence of a lady. "The blade's completely blunt. It wouldn't cut through butter in the middle of Red! See for yourself if you want to."

Celena blanched and waited a few seconds to make sure her heart was still there, beating. "You mean you ran into a group of five armed thieves in the middle of the night in an unknown forest with a weapon that is virtually useless?" She took a long breath in the end to compose herself. Then, "Are you mad?"

"Easy there, you almost sound like you didn't want to be rescued! I could have taken one of their swords at any time if I had to." She had her doubts, but kept them for herself. There was something definitely off with this man.

"So, what brings you to Pallas, sir?" He looked at her, but there was something different lying beneath his unusually coloured orbs now. It reminded her of wonderment and disbelief, yet at the same time... not.

"Don't call me 'sir'. Like I said, I'm a wanderer. I go from country to country, for no reason other than to see what's there, I guess." He kept looking straight at her, as if expecting her to reply in some special manner that was rehearsed in his mind. Celena could not possibly know what it was, but the feeling was there nonetheless.

"Sounds exciting," she said somewhat dryly. An adventurer side she may have, but to completely renegade any fixed home was a little over the top as far as she was concerned. "Where are you from, if I may ask?"

"Nowhere." His gaze shifted back towards the road, betraying no indication of what its owner had made out of Celena's reply. "So, what's your name and where are we going exactly anyway?" He asked, obviously changing the subject.

"Oh, where are my manners! I am Celena Schezar. I was on my way home. It is on the outskirts near Pallas, but I am familiar with the road, so I can show you the way." He muttered an assent and did not speak further. She assured him they were not very far from their destination and then fell silent as well. No one said anything else for the rest of the journey but Celena noticed her red-eyed saviour took to shifting a lot in his seat. Maybe he didn't like to talk.

They were not as far away from Pallas as they had thought and the coastal city swiftly came into view, even before Celena's house did. The red-eyed was clearly marvelled with the sight. She thought she heard him whispering something, but dismissed it as the wind playing tricks. Nevertheless, she saw the way his eyes were glued on the ocean below and remembered something she had often heard from the mouth of visiting foreigners. _'With its glittering sea and canals, Pallas is one of Gaea's prettiest jewels.'_ She hated to interrupt her saviour's study of the landscape, but her home was very close now.

"We are here. That is where I live." His head snapped forward and to the direction in which she was pointing and this time Celena was sure she had heard him say "not bad" to himself. She laughed. "Would you like to come in? Do you need a place to stay? I am sure that my brother will be more than..."

He halted both the horses and her at the same time, raising a hand. "No, thanks, I'm going to town. I can work out some place to stay there by myself." He jumped from his seat and unceremoniously turned on his heels towards the road he had seen descending to Pallas some way back, shouting his goodbyes over the bag slung on his shoulder.

"Take care, Celena Schezar!"

"Take care yourself!" _You need it more than I do. I wonder why he is in such a hurry... Hold on, he did not tell me his name!_ "Sir, wait!" She looked back, but he was already gone and too far to hear her calls.


	3. Van Fanel

**III. Van Fanel**

Knocking at the door of her own home came to Celena as a particularly odd thing to do at the time. She stood at the front, looking at her feet and waiting for someone to answer. The satin shoes she had on were beyond saving, she noted with some sadness. Earlier that day, she had told her rescuer that they had reached her house, but at that point it had just been starting to appear among the trees. Now, her feet were sore with the painful discovery of how deceiving distances could be.

A servant opened the door, recognised her immediately and stepped aside for her to enter. "Lady Celena, are you well?" She nodded with a smile, realising how she must look under all the dust. He lingered there with the door ajar for a few more moments, trying to locate anyone else who might have been accompanying her. "Master Allen has been waiting for you since yesterday afternoon. He's quite worried, I must say... I just managed to get him out of his study for lunch."

Celena wanted nothing more than a hot bath and perhaps some sleep on her nice bed, but she had to reassure Allen first. It was only natural for him to react like this and she had known he would. "Could you show me to him, please?" She asked and the man led her to the garden without delay.

Her brother sat in the terrace reading some letters, while finishing his meal. The high noon sun shone on his hair, turning it into a cascade of light and his elegant pose told much about the kind of man he was – but not everything. The sword resting by his belt completed that tale.

"Onii-sama!" She called and three paces later he was holding her shoulders and looking her over, concern written across his features. "Do not worry, I may be filthy, but I am perfectly all right." That seemed to soothe him.

"Celena, what happened to you?" He paused, guiding her to a seat next to his. "You poor thing. Sit, eat, you must be exhausted! I was about to go out searching for you... tell me everything!"

She was more than happy to comply and thankfully sat on a cushioned chair, recalling with dread the stiff seat at the front of the carriage. _Maybe that was why my saviour did not like carriages_, she thought humourlessly in the back of her mind. It had been a pretty uncomfortable experience, especially aggravated by the rush of blood to her cheeks whenever her stomach growled. Her respect towards men who had to drive those things for a living had doubled.

She told Allen all about what she had gone through in her trip up to present time, from what had befallen her driver and escort to the way she had left the carriage up the road and walked down to the house. For some reason, though, she held back on the descriptions of her saviour. Red eyes were an unusual trait and she did not want Allen to form an ill opinion of him just because of that. Jeture knew how she had reacted to it – Celena had been sure he was some demon come to reap her soul away. Of course, she was also familiar with her tendency to act before thinking, and thinking stupidly before acting.

"It's a shame he didn't tell you his name. I would have liked to thank him for saving my little sister and bringing her home unharmed," Allen was saying. "I'll report that attack in Pallas as soon as I have the chance, though. I'll have soldiers searching the woods for those scoundrels! Teach them a lesson myself if I can." Celena smiled, and placed a comforting hand over her brother's.

The love and care he felt for her were things she would never grow indifferent to, no matter how many times he demonstrated them. The next thing he asked, however, straightened her face in a flash.

He wanted to know more about what had gone wrong with the Edissi's son. She gave him a curt reply and wasted no more time in excusing herself to her bedroom.

Allen made no protest, even encouraged her, and soon the youngest Schezar was in her bedroom on the upper floor, unfastening her dress and flopping down on her bed, while pleasant sounds of the maid drawing water came from the private bathroom. Her muscles felt so heavy she could swear there was lead in them. In the meanwhile, she stared at the ceiling she knew by heart, ornamented with small paintings of flowers and birds, and went through everything that had happened again in her head. She sighed.

It was over now; her little adventure was over and she doubted she'd ever go through something like it again or see her rescuer once more. It had felt strangely good, like it had been the first time she had ever been alive. And not just because of the rush of adrenalin her fear had spurred. She had imposed her will – only on small things, true, but even that she would not have managed under normal circumstances –, she had shouted at her rescuer, called him mad and even insulted him!

Of course she had not done that bit on purpose, nor was she particularly proud of it, for that matter. She felt guilty over what she had said and for causing him hurt; after all, she was more grateful than he would ever know. She sighed. _What must it be like, being him? Travelling from place to place... I wonder if people always react to his eyes the same way that I did... with fear. Probably not, I must the only one who is silly enough to overreact that way because of such a little thing._

"Lady Celena, the bath is ready. I'll take these clothes downstairs for repairing and cleaning now, if you don't need anything else?" The woman was indicating her dress and shoes and Celena let her be on her way after offering some words of appreciation.

The water was just the right temperature and granted delicacies of special salts and bubbles. She stepped in and closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of the warm little ripples and soft foam brushing against her skin. It was bliss.

Indeed, what must it be like, to live like that stranger did? He had said he was an adventurer, but now that she thought about it more carefully, there was something that did not fit there. Wouldn't he need to have a better sword if that were the case? And even if he was, she somehow had the feeling that those eyes held a slightly different story.

And his voice – its timbre was still printed freshly in her memory and she thought about the power behind the tones again. She had never known a man capable of conveying such strength with simple words, except perhaps Allen, but only when he was talking to his men or something like that. Then again, all the other men she could say she had ever been in close contact with were either servants or nobles who had never had to do a thing in their lives... much like her. And another little paradox about her red-eyed sprang to mind. He had told those thieves he did not do heroics, and yet he had stepped in to save her when all odds were against him.

_Strange man, indeed, but no matter, I am probably just being silly again._ He was free to do as he pleased, go wherever he felt like. Wasn't that a dream come true. How many lands had he seen, how many people did he know? She could have asked him, but he did not seem to be too talkative – or maybe she had just let those red eyes intimidate her into keeping as still and quiet as possible, lest he suddenly turn out to be some sort of wild predator. In any case, it was just like her to only think of these things when it was too late. She still could not believe she hadn't even asked him his name.

She had read a romance once, where the main character's sweetheart was a man like that. He would take her to a million places – cities built upon lakes, snowy mountains and palaces in the most exotic of lands, with a fair amount of candlelight here and there evidently – and all the while, he would tell her about some episode he had gone through, and each tale was better and more exciting than the last.

She stopped to catch her breath and reminded herself that that was only a mushy-Millerna book, written purposefully for the hearts of romantic young ladies like her friend and herself. Her adventure, if she could even call it so, was over and her own romance story would never be like that. This had to have been the closest she would ever get to it in her life and now was time to put it behind her and go back to being Celena, the one rule-abiding Schezar.

Making up her mind to stop thinking like that, she stepped out of the water and went to bed, determined to let sleep wash away what the water could not. Suddenly the walls around her life were too tight, and everything felt like it was pushing them tighter still. She had always been content in the way she lived her life – at least until Allen came up with this most recent husband-seeking scheme of his. She had never dreamed a day would come in which she felt as caged as she did now, what with all the rules, choking dresses and ceremonies.

Now that she had been allowed to have a sip of freedom, the after-taste was a bitter one. She hid her face beneath the pillow...

Celena opened her eyes some time later to find she had fallen asleep and Allen was gently stroking her hair. "Sorry for waking you, little sister. You must still be very tired, but I have some good news and thought they would cheer you up." He was whispering and she smiled lovingly at him.

Times like these were when she loved him best. He wasn't a Knight Caeli then, just a brother who cared deeply for her. He had an uncanny ability to see right through her moods, though figuring out the causes behind them was a different thing altogether. Celena's guess this time was that he thought she was upset because of Elric's "refusal" combined with the emotional stress from the attack. It was not so, although she was surprised to find how right he was about her physical fatigue. She had needed that sleep more than she had cared to admit, even to herself.

"I've received a letter from the Princesses. We've been invited to go to the Palace to attend the celebrations that are to be held in honour of the Fanelian Prince. He will be arriving in a week from now for a formal visit of our country. Isn't it wonderful?"

Her eyes lit up; it was more than wonderful. She was a great friend of princess Millerna, the two of them having a lot in common, but unfortunately the royal title had kept her friend too busy for them to meet lately. This would be a grand opportunity to see her again, catch up with their talk and, who knew, perhaps even go to the town's bazaar together. She was sure that the invitation included her and Allen staying as guests in the Palace during those days.

Of course, there was also the downside, but Celena refused to consider it too much. Allen was bound to try to introduce her to every eligible man around, but the celebrations the Asturian Royal Family held were always so grandiose, it would certainly be worth it.

"My, it certainly is! I cannot wait to see Millerna again! There are so many things I have to tell her. When will we be leaving, brother?" Her joy was so contagious that Allen laughed.

"Don't worry about that, I want you to rest and regain your strength for now. Go to sleep, we'll talk some more at dinner." Kissing her forehead, he left her to her thoughts once more.

When King Aston organised a celebration, it was usually something worth beholding. They were always several days' long and he somehow managed to come up with something new each time, a surprise treat for those attending. The usual fireworks, dinners and balls were in order of course, and sometimes even a tournament in the great Pallas Coliseum for the men to entertain themselves.

She didn't know much about the Fanelian culture, though, just that there was some sort of a close relation between the small country and the dragons that wandered the valleys near it. A yawn overwhelmed her and she went back to sleep, deciding to go down to the library and look for some books about that country later.

––––––––––

A full week passed and before she knew it, Celena was unpacking her bags in the room assigned to her at the Royal Palace, hoping she had enough time to ready herself before the reception to the Fanelians. She had no idea about at which time of the day they were expected to arrive; all that she did know was that it could be at any minute now. False fever alarms and over-protective brothers had managed to delay the trip to the Castle up to this very day, but life was smiling down on her. Staying with Millerna for these days would do her good and make her feel more like herself again – and she had someone of whom she did not know anything to thank for it, the Prince of Fanelia.

Her search for books on Fanelia among her brother's collection had come up with no results. All she could find were maps with an uninteresting variety of geographical information, but nothing on the culture itself. She remembered her brother had spent some time in the neighbouring country once, but she much preferred resorting to the next best source: gossip with Millerna during her full two week's stay.

She had not seen the Princess yet, but guessed she would be coming up her door any minute now, telling her how late she was and to hurry up. In fact, why not play a little game? She bet to herself that if it took more than ten minutes, Millerna would not be coming at all. Positioning the clock on her nightstand so she could see the minutes passing from where she was, she continued preparing herself.

_Knock knock_

There. Seven and a half minutes, the Princess was getting slow! Celena abruptly opened the door with a bright smile and was only too embarrassed to find a young man there. "Yes?" She asked meekly, hoping her blush of embarrassment wasn't too noticeable.

"I have a message from princess Millerna, my lady Schezar." His tone was completely business-like and Celena was not sure if he could altogether see her, despite the fact his eyes were turned her way. "She politely requests that you join her outside the Castle's main gates to go down to the city." He bowed at the end and, after her timid acknowledgment, scurried down the hall to take care of whatever other businesses he had.

She walked back in and looked stupidly at her reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall opposite of the bed. "That was rushed... And I thought _I_ was late! Why does she want to go to town at this hour? I take back what I said, Millerna! You need to slow down," she told her counterpart.

––––––––––

Celena was not unfamiliar with the vast halls of the unique Asturian Castle. Being a close friend to the Princess and having lived there for some years herself, both young women had spent a great part of their childhood exploring every corridor and secondary passage they could get to.

The building itself had been constructed over one of the many canals that came from the sea and criss-crossed the city, but not all of that water was confined to the lower levels – the interior dock where the Royal Ships were harboured alongside the most important military vessels. A good portion of the waters actually made it to the other side of the Castle, conducted through special canalisations – fountains and small interior pools along the way included – or isolated corridors parallel to stairs or walkways, where one could admire their crystal clarity. Celena thought that it had been a brilliant idea from the architects who had designed the place, to make water a central element, for it beautifully brought out the essence and History of the littoral country that had made its way to greatness and prosperity through its merchant ships and armada.

Two of such corridors could be found flanking the main staircase and that had always been one of Celena's favourite spots. She inevitably paused at the bottom to admire the streams, when she heard her name.

"Celena!" Millerna was at the top of the stairs waving at her, with a young maid in tow carrying a rather large and heavy-looking box. "Oh, I'm so glad you could come! It's wonderful to see you again!"

"Same here, Millerna. But you did not have to be so hasty, I am staying for two weeks." Millerna had put on some high heel shoes that were considerably slowing down her descent, but she finally made it to where Celena was and they were able to share a friendly hug. "Are you not supposed to be waiting for the Prince of Fanelia to arrive right now?"

"No, that was earlier today, the reception just ended. And I'm not hasty, my friend! Since I have to go to town I thought I might as well go with my good friend Schezar, what's wrong with that?" That made them both giggle. Celena knew the Princess had something of a crush for her brother and the use of her last name had become a small recurrent joke between the two. Millerna would teasingly say that the main reason she was her friend was so that she could get closer to Allen, and Celena would reply that hers was so he would get off her back.

"But shouldn't you be with them still? And what do you have to do in town?"

"I'll explain everything on the way, come on." Celena just nodded and walked the remainder to the main entrance with Millerna and her handmaiden. There, a guard who would be doubling as escort and driver joined them. Millerna quickly gave him the directions and they were on the move. "Oh, you'll never believe what happened! Do you remember Maes?"

Celena had to think for a minute before images of Millerna's last birthday came to mind. Maes had been a gift, she could not remember of whom, and he had been a sweet-looking blue kitten, too shy and too sleepy to even unfurl his fluffy tail from around himself when he was picked up. Needless to say, the Princess had adored the little animal instantly. By now, though, he should have already grown into adulthood.

"The Fanelians arrived ahead of schedule this morning and I was still asleep when their ships came in sight of the port. My handmaiden had to come and wake me, otherwise I wouldn't have made it to greet them! So, I took out all my clothes for the day and put them on the bed without thinking. When I came back just minutes ago from the reception, what do I find? Sir Maes, the cat, lying down comfortably atop what used to be my dress for tonight's dinner! He shredded it, all of it, and now I have to take it to the seamstress in town... I hope she can fix it in time. I swear that cat must have swallowed an energist before he came here!"

Celena had listened through the not-so-fantastic tale and found it almost impossible not to laugh. She knew her friend too well. "Millerna Sara Aston, admit this instant that that is just a lame excuse to get yourself a new dress! I am sure you could have managed to find something else to wear in that modest three mile long closet of yours!"

"I wouldn't call it lame... and besides, I'm being selfless. This way we can spend time together and you can get a new dress for yourself too! Trust me, you'll want one!" Celena's good mood did not falter but she did raise a suspicious eyebrow.

"Oh, is that so?" Millerna just nodded with an all-knowing smile gracing her features. "And why, might I ask? I'm not exactly like you when it comes to men, you know that..."

"Side-effects of already living with the most beautiful man on Gaea, that's my diagnosis." She sighed and side-glanced Celena in mock contempt and the other mirrored her actions. "But you should have seen them! All lean and muscular and..."

Celena's face could have gotten green for all Millerna cared, now that she had started divagating nothing would stop her. She zoned out of the one-sided conversation with a smile to let Millerna wear herself out. She loved her friend, but this obsession of hers with men was something she would never understand and in all honesty, she wished with all her strength she would never end up like that. Of course she wanted to find her "prince charming", but she certainly did not go looking for him in every handsome face she found. So, Celena focused on the houses passing outside the window and the people wandering by, until either they got to the seamstress or Millerna realised no one was listening anymore.

Predictably, the trip ended before Millerna's speech and the Princess' talk turned to other matters when they entered the small shop. Celena always had to keep reminding herself whenever she went to that place that, despite the modest size and looks, that house probably held the monopoly over Pallas' _haute-couture_ business. Every lady she knew had at least one dress made there, and a minimum of three if they wanted to be seen as equals by the other aristocrats. Same thing went for men, though on a smaller scale.

A smiling girl was coming their way to receive the two, but a plump woman with round rosy cheeks and wearing one of the house's exquisite dresses intercepted her and came instead. _Special honours for special clients_, Celena thought to herself, recognising the woman as the owner. "Princess Millerna, your presence here honours our humble establishment! How may I be of service to you?"

"Thank you, Madam Rockbell. I have a dress that needs some desperate attention. I'm afraid my pet cat had a little too much fun with it. Do you think you could have it ready by the end of the afternoon?" The handmaiden carrying the box stepped forward, but the head-seamstress did not bother to look it over and just ordered one of her employees to take it to the back.

"For you, my Princess, anything." She bowed her head. Celena found herself once again thinking, this time on just how much of that respect came from her friend's title and how much came from her background of numerous purchases on the shop.

"And my friend Lady Schezar would also require a new gown for this night." Before she could react to what Millerna had said, the woman had nodded and left to get her samples.

"Millerna, I do not need a new gown!" She turned to the Princess to weakly protest.

"Oh, hush Celena. Just be giddy and superficial for once, all right? Let's have some fun!" Millerna had hooked her right arm in hers and taken her to a seat at Madam Rockbell's desk, smiling like crazy. "Besides, you'll need the dress to impress those handsome Fanelians I told you about... you really should have seen them!"

"Well, I already heard your detailed account of them, thank you very much."

"No, you didn't. And I know because you didn't stop me. Most unusual, I might add. I know you haven't converted to my ways, so don't tell me you've found a... Oh, look!" Celena never got to know what it was she had found, for just then a sea of models and samples and different patterns and accessories for the dress viciously overwhelmed her.

She started examining them reluctantly, saying that she didn't like any, but then the good items started showing and she was slowly hypnotised into becoming as giddy and superficial as Millerna on a good talking spree about men. Not that she would ever compare it so.

The hours passed quickly and by the time the sun started to come down, Celena and Millerna were happily chatting back in their carriage about everything and anything, bringing along a box with the patched up dress for Maes to never touch again, and another containing a receipt for a gown that would only be ready in a few days and a simple dress for Celena to wear at dinner that night. Not many people would be attending, since the real festivities only began the following day and most of the nobles had houses of their own in the city, but Millerna had wanted her friend to look good.

"What are they like, the Fanelian people?" Celena asked out of the blue.

"I told you before! Handsome, tall, tanned skin..." Millerna was about to enter her dreamy-mode again, but a laugh from her friend anchored her back down to the real world.

"Not that, silly. I mean... how are they?" She asked again, accenting some words. She knew the wording of the question wasn't all that different, but Millerna should understand.

"Well, they all seemed very nice and serious, I think. The Prince, especially, he was a sombre one. A bit on the arrogant side, perhaps, but charming all the same! Then there was this other man. He was kind too, but old enough to be our grandfather and had a nasty scar across one eye!"

"Millerna! I don't care what they're like individually! I mean in a more general sense... what do you know about them and their culture? For instance, I heard there was something about dragons somewhere?"

"Oh, that." She was almost disappointed. Obviously, her other line of thought was much more interesting in her opinion. "Well, yes. They have all these myths and legends including dragons – you should sit one of them down to tell you some at dinner!" One warning glance from Celena was enough to set her back on track. "I've heard that they also worship a Dragon God – Escaflowne, the Warrior – and in order to become King, there is some sort of rite including a dragon that the Prince must perform in the time he comes of age."

Celena nodded. That was interesting, but somewhat scary. "Weren't you in Fanelia some years back, Millerna?"

"Yes, with your brother too... and their capital city is beautiful. It's on a valley surrounded by lush forests, with land dragons wandering on one side and steep mountains looming overhead on the other. I first met the Prince and his older brother then. They were both very nice and welcoming, but there were some rumours recently that something happened to the older Prince when he went to perform this rite. I'm not sure whether they're true or not, but only the younger is here now, if that means anything."

"That's awful! Do you think this rite could be something dangerous? Land dragons are such vicious creatures!" Celena gasped.

"For all I know, it might very well be something dangerous. Fanelia is known to have some of the finest warriors and samurai in Gaea. It makes sense that the rite should be something worthy to fit in with that tradition."

"Jeture! I hope nothing bad happened to that Prince!" Celena shuddered and Millerna made a face to indicate she agreed with her friend.

––––––––––

The hours kept rolling by and the time to meet the famous Fanelians came soon after the two girls' return to the Palace. Celena was wearing the gown she and Millerna had gotten at Madam Rockbell's that afternoon and a handmaiden had arranged her hair, pulling half of it up but leaving some curls loose so they could grace her bared, white shoulders. The dress itself was simple, but stylish nonetheless.

She was just giving herself a final check on the mirror in her bedroom when Allen came to pick her up. Deciding that her hair had not suddenly started a revolution without her knowing it – nor would it later in the night – she answered the door and walked with her brother to the banquet hall bellow.

Allen was in a rather cheerful mood. He had been busy during the afternoon too and obviously had some plans for the evening.

"How was your day, sister?" He asked awkwardly. Celena knew him well enough to be able to tell that there was something he wanted to say to her and this was just the warm up. Still, she responded as gently as she would if she had not understood that.

"It was fine. I went to town with Millerna and got this dress for myself." She gave a small spin to show it off. Allen had a somewhat patient smile on his face and she decided to give him a hand in dropping it. "How about you, brother dearest?"

"I was busy myself. I had talked to the Royal Guards before about your little misfortune and they had promised to send a unit to search the woods for those scoundrels who harmed you. Well, I have checked their progress today and found that the thieves' lair has been discovered and everyone apprehended."

"That is wonderful news! Now I will not have to worry about any more travellers going through the same that I did," she shook her head enthusiastically. However, her sharp "sister-senses" were telling her that those were not the most important news Allen had. "What else did you do?"

"Well, I found an old friend among the Fanelians and we talked. I met some of the nobles too." Allen was starting to look at her with more excitement now. He surely thought that this time he would find someone suitable for his sister among all the available candidates, and that it was just a matter of introducing her to the various families throughout the festivities. "You'll have to be at your best, Celena! This could be it!"

The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint her brother, but his happiness would likely mean the opposite for her and that was quite a dilemma that put her in a very ungrateful position. She decided that when the time came, it came, and she would know what to do then. Clinging to the hope that whoever ended up as her husband was someone she could love, the two entered the banquet hall and found that all the important people were already gathered there.

A long table was set with porcelain and crystal, at the head of which sat the opulent king Aston. On his left hand were the princesses Eries and Millerna and further on two seats were vacant, indicating where the Schezar siblings were supposed to be. Some more nobles occupied the rest of the chairs, but they weren't the ones to next catch Celena's eye, for across that row were the guests' seats. She could now see exactly what Millerna had meant when she had talked about the Fanelians, and she could not help but agree with her – to some extent.

A brief introduction of the foreigners and small exchange of pleasantries later, and Celena was able to identify the most important individuals of that group. All had an air of being warriors, but four stood out. Three bulky men sat next to the "leader". They were the main samurai of Fanelia, the Generals who were in front of the army. She had only heard about one before, he was the most imposing one too, Balgus. Her brother knew him well. The other two were called Luva and Asona.

And then, sitting on king Aston's immediate right, was prince Van Slanzar de Fanel, the teenager who would take on the throne of Fanelia in one year's time as stated by Fanelian tradition. He had short black hair that covered his forehead and rebelliously reached his maroon eyes. Celena agreed with Millerna in that he was good-looking, but not in a fashion that particularly appealed to her. He had a "lost boy" combined with "I'm the heir to the throne" style that did not quite fill her measures.

Once everyone was settled and the food started coming in, conversation on that end of the table started mildly enough.

"Prince Van, tell me, how do you find your accommodations?" Princess Eries inquired.

"Very suitable, thank you. The rooms are quite ample and we have everything we require," he said and the Princess, having been the one in charge of picking out the bedrooms and preparing them for the visitors, smiled with satisfaction. "I find I quite like the Asturian style of architecture. Of course, at Fanelia we don't have these sort of things."

More or less everyone nodded and smiled in agreement, but Celena was curious. "Pardon my ignorance, but may I ask why is that?"

Maroon eyes locked on to azure ones, and held them while answering the question. "Fanelia is a modest country. We have few allies and aren't as prosperous as Asturia in its trade activities." He remarked with a glance at the smiling King next to him. "And to be quite honest, we cannot afford spacious buildings like this Palace, simply because we have little space on our capital city."

Several laughs echoed after that and the Prince grinned himself. From what followed, it was made apparent that the cramped Fanelian construction was considered something of a bizarre trademark of the country, which left Celena feeling rather silly. Allen's voice cut through her embarrassment.

"But you have one thing we do not, which is your forests, and the land dragons therein." The Knight turned to his sister to make a sort of publicly secret confidence to her. "And don't let the Prince fool you with his modest talking, my sister. Why, just out of their Drag-Energist commerce they make about as much money as a third of Asturia's brute income."

"Now, now, Sir Allen. Jealousy does not suit you," General Balgus said. It was a rather strange experience, for Celena would never have guessed the man possessed a sense of humour under the stoic façade. It might have been an uncomfortable statement on any other occasion, but it was common knowledge that Allen and him were friends. "Still wishing you could upgrade your weapons and equipment?"

"My friend, it is the fate of the military: we always want to use the best, but have to make do with what we have. Not that I have any reasons to complain. The Army of Asturia is one of the finest in men and equipment, second only to Fanelia I would say."

"Right you are, Sir Allen," the King put in. "Though the time of the military and wars is long past. The Seven Countries of Gaea are well at peace now – a well-deserved peace for us all. Who would have believed me if I said ten years ago that we would be gathered here today, having dinner with our neighbours and friends from the East!"

Every one drank to the King's statement, and the meal progressed steadily from there on. Celena thoroughly enjoyed hearing the tales their guests had brought from home, and the food was delicious to go with them. The more she heard, the more she felt that someday she would like to visit the Country of the Dragons and its cramped capital city.

The one thing that counterweighted that enjoyment was the Prince's gaze. Those eyes caught Celena's many times throughout the evening. At first, they would hold no more than curiosity, but as time passed they had steadily evolved into an almost intimidating fixed stare.

By the end of the evening, she was feeling rather perturbed by the interest shown in her, which at the beginning she had assumed to be only due to her silly question earlier on. Even as the Prince talked to someone else, his eyes would sometimes turn her way, insistent and piercing, and the feeling that the rest of the room dissolved and the back of her head suddenly turned very heavy let Celena know exactly when it was one of those times. An eerie sense of foreboding was invading her, but she did her best to dismiss it as nothing.

When the servants finally cleared the table, everyone made to leave for another room, stomachs satiated and ready to continue with the pleasant discussions through the rest of the night. Celena was about to tell her brother that she was not feeling too well and would retire, when the very object of her discomfort chose to walk up to her. Allen must have seen the approaching Prince, but did not care or did not notice how she felt, for he discreetly left her side.

"My lady. I see you are alone, would you care to join me on a walk outside?" Prince Van of Fanelia was holding out his arm to her and Celena could not help but to give an expertly concealed bitter smile. _Do they really enjoy themselves that much phrasing orders as invitations that women cannot refuse?_

"Of course, prince Van." She hooked her arm in his after a curtsy, but did not dare to gaze into his eyes. The look inhabiting them had haunted her too much already during the meal. He led her to the side, and a gust of fresh wind suddenly blew through her hair as the doors were opened and they stepped outside into a balcony. It was nice feeling the clean air around her, but Asturian nights were chilly. Celena covered herself as best as she could while following him.

"Lady Celena Schezar, if I recall? You are Sir Allen Schezar's sister?" Van said once he had shut the door behind them again. They were now alone and no one would come out to disturb them. A strange panic came upon her, but it was one she could manoeuvre herself around. Everything within her was telling her to not let the talk go further.

"Yes, m-my Prince." She stuttered, not exactly faking, but rather purposefully accenting the cold she was feeling. Her dress may be pretty – too pretty perhaps – but it was not made to endure the temperatures of Asturia by night. She hoped he would realise that and take her back inside.

"Please, call me Van... Here", he said with a thoughtful smile while placing his coat over her shoulders. It was warm, so now her excuse was gone. _Millerna, now would be a good time for you to come outside and drool over this one Fanelian!_ "I couldn't help noticing you earlier at the table... I thought I'd come and apologise for those times you found me staring at you and for laughing at your question's expense. It wasn't very polite of me."

She lowered her head as she assured him it was fine, suddenly feeling some shyness over the reasonless panic. Now she could see that he was actually rather considerate, and she had to admit he had a kind voice. But at the same time, Celena had to wonder if this little encounter had anything to do with her brother's afternoon doings and the ill feeling that had assailed her during dinner crept its way back.

"I met your brother some years back and I have heard many stories about him and your father, but I didn't know he had a sister. I must have a talk to him very soon about forgetting to mention you." Celena was startled and instantly blushed. It was the sort of thoughtful flattery that she had heard before coming from past suitors, but with Van, there was a strange seriousness to it that she couldn't really place or understand.

"How did you meet my brother...?" How she wished that that little question could have come out with a bit more determination.

She forced herself to look back at the Prince's maroon eyes, hoping to find something different from before, but he had been observing her too and the instant their gazes locked, the same foreboding surged dangerously through Celena's veins. There was nothing wrong with the Fanelian, but... it was definitely not right either.

Then a flash of Elric Edissi's face replaced his and she gasped in fright, averting her eyes and murmuring some apologies and general nonsense, not entirely sure whether they were directed at him or herself. She abruptly covered her mouth, turned her back to the Prince and ran away from the balcony, passing right through her brother and several others. She didn't even think to stop and bid her farewells. The youngest Schezar sprinted straight to her room, failing to notice the several pairs of eyes observing her flight.

_What just happened...?_, Celena asked herself, closing the door behind her and lying fully clothed on her bed.


	4. Midnight Talk

**IV. Midnight Talk**

Ivory moonlight reached out its pale hand to bathe the Asturian landscape, covering every roof, street and building with motherly attention. It spread its ghostly halo and hazy shadows throughout the entire city, lurking uninvited on unlit windows or stretching lazily over smaller alleys more familiar with its presence. Nothing escaped its cold scrutiny, the same way nothing could avoid the lure to madness it brought. On some nights, Lady Moon's pull on her children was greater, and some felt it more acutely than others.

As a general rule, Asturians regarded the Cult of the Moon with disdain. The traditionally religious people had once paid homage to the silver deity, but then moved on to other beliefs and gods, such as that of the Sea Dragon Jeture. This was the God whose representation one could frequently find decorating rooftops and windows, or sitting atop the stone pillars that welcomed the ships to the city's harbours and marked its boundaries. He was believed to have nourished the first living beings and taken them under his powerful wing to protect during the early stages of life. There were other Gods, like the God of War Escaflowne, but the underlying truth was that when these – historically speaking – recent religions had arrived, they had put more ancient folkloric creeds aside in the process. As such, the pagan cult of the Lady Ivory Moon and fear of the Demonic Mystic Moon had fallen into disuse, but although everyone denied it and claimed to be fully dedicated to the new Gods, the old beliefs undoubtedly still kept a strong hidden grip on the people by means of supersticion. But not everywhere were these pagan religions shunned. The smaller, and poorer, lands with no means to construct the structures necessary to the cult of the new Gods or with little contact with the big cities, still kept mostly to the old beliefs.

The patch of light in front of his eyes had to be one of the most annoying things he had ever experienced. He had worked all day and his arms ached from carrying heavy crates, but that damned stabbing light would not let him sleep. It was true that the pile of hay he was laying on was not the most comfortable of places to sleep in, but it had not bothered him the day before and he had certainly slept in worse places before.

Deciding his attempts of shutting the light out of his mind would get him nowhere, he threw the blanket aside and scavenged for his shirt by his feet. He found it far from where he had left it originally, covered in a nice portion of straw, and shrugged it on along with his boots. He needed to go outside to relax.

As he left the shared room and walked down the hall, the loud snoring coming from behind doors similar to his own further rattled his nerves. He quickened his pace and entered the stables, one of the places in the Castle in which he was expected to work during the daytime. Now, abandoned to the dark, he could not help feeling like he was lord over the place. His mind was soothed, and a small smirk curved his lips.

On the day he had been hired, his boss had shown him, among other things, the place where the King's most valued horses were kept, and had explained how they should be treated with doubled care. Despite the ridiculous notion that those horses were receiving a better treatment than he was, one of the beasts had caught his eye. Its sharpened body exhaled might and its grey fur shone like the enthralling Moon he hated and served. He had set his mind then on riding it and now seemed like a good time for that.

He smiled again as he walked around the palafrenier on duty currently passed out on a chair. He would probably do the same if he had gotten the night shift; the horses were certainly a lot quieter than many of the fellow workers he'd left behind on the hall, and what could possibly happen inside the guarded stables in the middle of the night – a horse running short on hay? Maybe a messenger ordered by the arrogant aristocrats of the upper floors coming down? Even those became arrogant when dealing with the ones beneath them and readied the horses themselves, too disgusted with the stable-boys' dirty hands or something.

The stables occupied a rather wide area and were connected to the outside by a gate that led to the castle grounds and gardens. Inside, the open space was divided with no apparent order by numerous rows of cubicles, each housing one animal, interspersed with water tanks, hay and food storages and some more compartments, where the equipment was kept. He continued on his way to one of those.

After collecting a saddle and bridle, he fetched the horse and guided it soundlessly to the grounds, only then mounting. The horse jerked abruptly in protest at the added weight, refusing to carry its untimely rider, but that was the exact reason why he had chosen this particular animal. Because it had spirit enough to put up a fight, so he would have to tame it some.

For him, the main joy in riding did not come from speed or the alleged bond that was created between human and beast. It could not. In his mind, anyone who thought like that knew nothing of the real world. To know that he had a powerful animal under his control, and it would do anything he ordered it to... Satisfaction of the primal instinct to dominate, to be on control, that was what it all came down to. That was the true beauty of riding – speed did not compare and bonding was but a joke.

That was what relieved his mind during the next hours, riding through the vast castle grounds, pushing the beast to its limits, seeing how far it would go for him. In the end, Lady Moon's invitation to come out was all it had promised to be.

When he finally felt the night's borrowed energy wearing off, he decided it was best to return to the stables. The moons were still high, so he figured it was not too late to catch up on his sleep. He looked to his back and front, judging which route was better.

Behind him was the same way he had come from – a longer route, but one where he was sure to meet no one unexpected along the way. That was the direction of the grounds with fewer patrols and the wild forest. On the other hand, the road was shorter ahead, but he would also have to be more careful so no one would see him sneaking around with one of the King's stallions. Those were the private gardens, reserved to the nobles and their strolls. He chose the second without much thought; it was a nice opportunity to explore that side of the castle.

He did not know, nor had any special interest in knowing, what rooms did the windows and balconies on that side belong to, but he had spied enough lit ones before on the other side of the castle to guess that the nobles must be having some sort of party. That increased his chances of slipping by tenfold, though it was all the same to him. He dismounted and approached the building, pulling the horse behind him through the gardens.

––––––––––

The windows with a view to the garden were in fact those of the guest quarters and at that very moment, one of the inhabitants of those rooms was being shaken out of her troubled thoughts by some insistent knocking on the door. That person was Celena and she was still sprawled on the bed going through what had happened earlier that night. She bid whoever was at her door to enter, mostly so that the noise would stop.

A crack opened and Millerna poked her head inside before stepping all the way in and closing the door behind her. A candle by the bed shed some light into the room, but that was all. Celena's pale skin shone orange gold in the soft light and the fact that she had not moved to acknowledge her helped in building the impression that Millerna was looking at a statue. She frowned.

"Are you all right, Celena? I saw you leaving and thought to check how you were doing," she said quietly, not wanting to disturb the silent atmosphere.

––––––––––

Pulling the horse through the well-kept gardens was proving to be more difficult than he had expected. So much for "control over the imposing animal", the stupid beast had decided to get in touch with its cousins' side of the family and was putting up an act of stubbornness. Things were not going too well when he spotted a growing light behind one of the windows – someone was coming out.

"Come on, you half-bred mule!" He grunted through his teeth, while yanking fiercely at the reigns. The night was too clear to hide them completely, so they would have to get behind something for cover, fast.

The gardener who had designed and planted those trees decades – centuries? – ago must have had some divine inspiration for placing them on all those convenient spots for him now. The trees and bushes a few feet ahead proved to be all the cover he would need, if only he could make it there on time. Whoever was in that room had reached the window, he could hear the un-oiled knob turning and loosening the holds. Some more jerks to the reigns and the mule-stallion started moving to where he wanted it.

He looked back to the building to check if their time had not run out – the window was just opening and out came a sight he was not prepared to. The moon was in the exact position to highlight all of the right details. The way her loose curls tumbled down to nest near her chest, more exposed than what would be regularly considered proper in the city because of the unbuttoned top, the glint in her veiled eyes and the little curve on her parted lips... She was the strangely familiar image of a goddess, and she was about to see him.

He hastily turned his attention back to earth, where the damn mule was refusing to take the last steps. Hoping he had gotten it far enough to escape notice, he got behind a tree himself, ready to wait for as long as it took for the window's occupant to go away. If she were to look down from her reverie of the moon, she would find the most question-arousing sight of a horse's behind.

He heard some talking, and he was sure it had to be coming from the lady-god's window. Shifting some branches out of the way, he looked at the beauty again. With some disappointment, he noted that she was no longer otherworldly, nor reminiscent of whom he had first thought upon seeing her. As if she had descended to earth, she became just another girl, not very different from the friend now standing behind her. Once that second person came close enough to see, though, he recognised her immediately. It was the Princess. And then, just as suddenly as her mystic illusion had dissolved, a name for the fallen goddess popped into his head. _I know you _–_ Celena Schezar..._

"Please tell me! I saw you go out to the balcony with him. Did he..."

"No," was Celena's simple answer. She was staring sadly at the night sky, loving her friend for caring, but wishing that just this once she could be allowed to be completely alone. "He did not do anything. He just complimented me, that was all."

"What happened then? Why are you upset like this? Why did you run?" He had no idea of what the two were talking about, but he had to agree that being complimented was not a very good reason for being upset... was it? What did he care. Even if he had encountered Celena on the road before, he had nothing to do with her and her affairs. He doubted she even remembered who he was. People who met him usually wanted nothing more but to forget him as fast as possible.

He just had to wait for their little chat to end so he could go on back to the stables, before anyone noticed the horse was gone. He sat down and made himself comfortable, leaning against a tree and pulling the reigns again without much hope of anything actually happening.

"I do not know, Millerna! I just... panicked?" The horse did not move, as he had predicted. He sighed, and sank deeper down into the tree. _Great, I get to spend the night listening to girl-talk._ "I guess I know too well what is in store for me... for us... Look, Millerna, I do not feel like talking right now."

"Then when, Celena? You always say that when you're upset! Why don't you let me in on what's going through your head?" _Oh, no no no!... If she doesn't want to talk, you go away. You don't ask her to change her mind and keep me stuck here for hours!_

"Because it will not get us anywhere!" _Just listen to that! Off you go, Princess!_ "Wake up and face reality, Millerna. Our lives are not ours! We are in the hands of other people and they do what they want of us just because we were born female! In your case, your father chooses what is 'best' for you or 'in your interest', and in mine... Allen and whoever comes along, I suppose."

"How can you say that? It's not like that at all! Allen cares for you..." He supposed the two were friends... which meant there would be no slapping or hair pulling, and which meant he wasn't missing much of a show by keeping his back turned to them. _Come on ladies, you think you're in a position to complain? You can have anything you want! Now go inside and get it over with._

"You know it is true! Didn't your father forbid you of going to that medical school because he thought it was not right for you? And what if he said you had to marry someone he chose, how would you feel? My brother Allen... it is like he is constantly controlling everything I do, everywhere I go."

_Talk about being melodramatic. You may have looked nice under the Moon, but I guess looks are just as deceiving as they say. I'm beginning to think you're a bit on the insufferable side, Celena Schezar._

"I have to put on the dresses _he_ likes, see the people _he_ wants, attend the parties and dinners _he_ wants me to..." _Ohh, life must be so hard on you people_, he thought rolling his eyes. "I feel like I'm a bird in a cage, Millerna. Haven't you ever felt like that?"

"Celena... I..." That promptly brought out another roll of the eyes from him and sent his right foot on a tapping spree. _If you two are on such a drama mood, why don't you go inside and cry on the bed together or something...?_

"Sometimes I think he is just showing me off to this family or that, letting them know that I am out for offering or something like that. I hate it. It is as if I am reduced to this shell and... " She was having difficulty speaking. He could tell she would end up crying. "I am not a real being, I have no goals of my own to accomplish, no purpose in existing, except to answer the questions the parents ask me to see whether or not I am good enough for their sons! And even those do not care about whom I am inside... I doubt they would care even after marrying. I would just be a wife, an item of some sort that they own. No different from a pair of boots or a horse. Just a possession."

He could hear the tears and the way her voice broke down in the end, muffled by the Princess' shoulder. He had cursed his luck seconds ago, but seconds ago had been too soon. Something in her sobbing had gotten past his shield and guilt was burning its way down to his stomach for underestimating her and belittling her lament with indifference. He knew exactly the type of people she was talking about, and even though she had only mentioned the tip of the iceberg, the whole picture was becoming too clear for him.

The realisation that she was somehow on the same boat as him, yet at the same time on the opposite side of the river, rang a strange chord within him and reminded him of the spur of empathy he had felt days ago upon first meeting Celena Schezar. He was beginning to think that it had not been such a great idea to hearken to Lady Moon's call on this night.

Meanwhile, the Princess sounded like she was holding her friend, whispering something to her. She was not saying much, probably because there was nothing she could say that would make it better.

"Hush, Celena. It'll be all right in the end, you'll see," he heard Millerna saying. _No, it won't. People are cruel and uncaring. Always have been and always will be. It's in their nature._ "Everything you said is probably true, I don't know, but you can't lock yourself in your room and cry till you're asleep... I'm not any good at this, I know... well, the hugging I can do, but... maybe you shouldn't keep thinking about these things everyday. I mean... go with the flow?"

_Quit? Oh yeah, great advice... why not rent her personality on weekends to save up money for the wedding dress too? Are you really the heir to this throne? Wait... What am I doing..._

"Go with the flow? I cannot do that Millerna, I would just be losing myself if I did that. I have got a will and a mind of my own, I cannot deny myself that." There was a pause afterwards, while the sobs subsided.

The two were still, not really looking anywhere but inside, measuring their beliefs, and then counter-measuring them with what had been said. Down below, the man was getting up and starting to pull the horse, throwing all caution to the winds. The fact he had just thrown in his opinion on a matter that did not concern him in the least and was even starting to feel sorry about someone whom he did not know was mildly disturbing to him.

"And I have not told you what happened yet, have I?" He automatically halted what he was doing to look up at the two. They were sitting on the ledge, backs turned outside. "After dinner, the Prince came to see me, asking if we could go outside. My brother was there and he just left me alone. That did not upset me, but I think I suddenly realised how much I resembled a sheep cornered by a wolf. I wanted to disappear so badly and never see anyone there again. Fade, you know..."

"Why was that?" Millerna asked, surprised at the admittance. Celena was usually the strongest and boldest of the two.

"I thought it had to do with the Prince. I do not know if you noticed, but after my brilliant display of ignorance at the beginning of dinner he kept his eyes riveted on me."

The Princess raised her eyebrows as if asking "what's wrong with that, you lucky girl?"

"I would not normally agree with you, but I must. After we went outside and started talking, he turned out to be quite all right. Very nice, very polite, not bad-looking either. But somewhere deep inside, he scared me."

Everything and everyone was silent, pondering on the solemn confession. Only the far-off sounds of dancing music could be distinguished from the night's comforting hum... until the mule-horse chortled out loud for everyone to hear. The man was standing out in the open, so his blood barely had the time to freeze, before he threw himself to the ground and out of sight.

"What was that? Sounded like a horse..." The two ladies turned to inspect the greenery below and found the animal without effort.

"Must be from one of the guards patrolling the grounds," Millerna supplied. "Or maybe one of the stable-boys got careless and let him get away. I'll have to speak to the responsible for the workers there. We've got some new hands helping around because of the Fanelians' visit, so they are still very lacking in discipline. I'll have to see about that." Silence again. Were they coming down? He could make a run for it and the sleeping ostler on duty would get the blame...

"My friend: Millerna, the Tyrant!" He gulped from his position flat on the ground, while up on the window Celena gave a short laugh that eased his worries. He thought back to the first time he had been with her, the only time, really. She had not laughed much, but when she did it sounded different, in a good way. Or maybe it was just the deception of the Moon again.

"I just happen to know of pretty much everything that goes on in this castle. Which brings us to another matter... Your brother told me an interesting story after dinner today. It appears that you had a close encounter with danger the past week, and that's why you had a slight fever these last days."

_Fever?_ His ears perked up to listen, she had been sick after their encounter? She hadn't been hurt, not that he remembered. "I did _not_ have a fever! Allen just overreacted, as usual, because I told him it was hot."

"I'm sure he did... but how come your best friend had to find out through your brother about this? Were you going to keep this from me? I'm feeling hurt, Schezar..." Celena laughed, and there was that deception of a darker undertone again.

"I was not keeping anything from you, Millerna! How could I? Here is the story: I ran into some thieves on my way home. They attacked my coach, killed the poor driver... fortunately, someone came to save me before they could do..."

"Oh, how exciting! A knight in shining armour? Now I know why prince Van didn't warm your eye... how good-looking was he?" He almost gasped, suddenly feeling very awkward for lying on the dirt and listening to two people he hardly knew talk about him.

"Don't be silly, silly! He just helped me and escorted me the rest of the way. Nothing much happened."

"So now he just 'helped' instead of 'heroically saved', did he?... Come on, was he good-looking or not?"

"I never said that! You are hopeless."

"Please, humour me", she insisted. He should go; he really did not want to hear what Celena Schezar would say...

"All right, yes, he was! He had beautiful, fiery eyes and a voice you could fall for in no time, Millerna! In fact, he could charm you into making anything he wanted to, even without laying eyes on him, and you would not mind a bit because of that beautiful voice." _What...?_

"You do have all the luck..." _What did she say?_

"No, I do not. Something serious could have happened if not for him... I shudder to think. And anyway, it was not anything like what I am sure you are imagining. I did not even get his name! All right, I will admit I was a bit fascinated by him, I guess he was a bit of everything I am not and wanted to be, but..." '_Fascinated'_? "It was _not_ like one of your fantasies come true, Millerna!"

Things calmed pretty much from there on. The Princess had finally pulled the thread of the conversation to her area of choice, and Celena was distracted as she kept vainly refuting her every step of the way. It was not long until he heard the window shutting back into place.

He remained sitting against the tree for a while, still touching his throat and trying to figure out what she had meant about his voice. Maybe he had fallen asleep somehow and misheard what she had said? It must have been, for who could think his eyes were "beautiful"?

He got up, stretched his aching legs, and looked up to see how much time had gone by since he had left bed. Too long... He might as well skip sleep altogether tonight, or, even better, he could skip his duties in the morning and let sleep help him forget about everything he had heard. Yes, forget it. That was it, and the sooner, the better.

_Damn you, Lady Moon..._


	5. Chance Encounters

**V. Chance Encounters**

The last thing Celena felt like doing the next morning was going down from her room and face all the people who had witnessed her little flight from the balcony. Not to mention prince Van. She had not even talked to her brother yet, so she was completely on her own when she entered the hall where breakfast was being served.

She felt more than saw the flurry of eyes quickly shifting towards her direction and instantly knew that, true to their nature, all the aristocrats were aware of the incident and had been commentating it furiously in her absence. How she wished she could be elsewhere, instead of standing at the entrance pretending nothing was wrong. Relieving her to some extent was the fact that still no Fanelians were present. Their delay was more than welcome, and she just hoped it could go on forever.

She had yet to make a move towards her seat at the table, when Millerna, undoubtedly realising how stranded she was feeling, rose and joined her by the door. Proving just how deep their friendship reached, the Princess said nothing and led her out the same way she had come.

"Thanks," Celena whispered, truly meaning it.

"No problem. I wasn't enjoying today's topic anyway. We can eat in my room, I'm sure you're hungry after last night," she said supportingly. Celena just nodded and smiled gratefully as she let her friend take her away. Millerna could be different from her in many ways and perhaps even upset her at times, but she did have her moments when the occasion called for them.

Once at their destination, the Princess charged her handmaiden of bringing some food and sat with Celena on the bed, telling her of her plans for the day as a way of inviting her to come along with her.

"We need to go to Madam Rockbell's to pick up your other gown, but before that I have some errands to run around the Castle. I'm going to talk to the responsible for the stables to tell him about that horse we saw last night, and then I need to see to the lunch room's decoration with Eries... you could definitely give a hand, you have better taste than I do!"

Maes, the cat had made his appearance while Millerna was talking and after a good stretch had popped up on Celena's lap and settled himself there contently, not particularly concerned about who she was as long as she would give him all the petting he demanded. The young Schezar, on the other hand, was only half-listening to what her friend had to say. Her mind was still down at the breakfast room and the rumours that were surely spreading.

"Millerna," she cut in. "I can't stay here, it will only make things worse if I do not show up down there. They will start spreading all sorts of things and I cannot hide from the Prince during his entire stay here..." She could feel the burden of consequence on her shoulders, and wished she could go back in time so that none of it had happened in the first place. It was like she had cornered herself into an alley and the only way out was narrow, grim and dark.

"You are not hiding. You're just letting things cool down a bit. Believe me, a lot of the people down there didn't even notice what happened and now are thoroughly enjoying themselves making up all kinds of theories to make up for that..." A flicker of a grimace crossed her face, dreading what she had to tell her friend next. "You know, like you and the Prince actually knowing each other from before, and things like that..."

Although she was well aware that that would be the case, Celena could not help looking horrified. She could not fathom how she would get over this, knowing how long the ridiculous speculations could outlast the actual situation.

"It's better if you wait till lunch. They'll be more tired of the subject and willing to speak of something else by then. In the meanwhile, you can stick with me, all right Celena?" Millerna quickly injected.

"They will love that, you know?" She darkly replied, thinking of all the Celena-free hours that she would be giving the nobles. By the time she did make an appearance each of them would have selected a favourite among all the theories and she would be ruthlessly probed with innocent conversations to prove them right or wrong. Could it get any worse?

Of course it could. What would Van be thinking of this right now? She had probably offended him, when he was being nothing more than courteous to her. Perhaps a bit too much, true, but he had not crossed any lines. Not any that she could tell, anyway. "I will have to speak to the Prince soon... to clear up everything with him. We cannot have him being subjected to this."

"I don't know, Celena... maybe it's better if you let him be. Let things mend by themselves on his side." The truth was, she did not think it would be wise for her friend to go too near him for now. She had seen how perturbed Celena had been left the night before and if by chance anyone heard of a further encounter between the two, on their own, the rumours would be twice as hard to quench.

"No, that cannot be. We have only met yesterday and already have I gotten him into a situation like this! I need to apologise in the least. Not to mention explain myself..." Celena knew she was trying to convince herself as much as Millerna. She was sure it was the right thing to do, but it was so hard to get it done. Just from imagining the embarrassment she would feel, she was starting to withdraw already.

"You know, he's royalty and a visitor at this kingdom. I doubt he'll hear much of it or be too troubled over it. His servants will probably have to face more than he will," Millerna reasoned.

"Still, it is not right to just hide." Celena bit her lower lip, fighting to replace her doubts with resolve once and for all. She had to do what was right. "All we did was talk for about a minute and I left him standing there for no apparent reason..." She recalled the gaze that had watched her every move throughout the previous dinner. It had been uncomfortable, but not enough reason to do that sort of thing to a person... was it? "You could probably count the words I said to him with the fingers of one hand."

"I wasn't there to see, but he surely must have done something! I've known you for a long time, Celena, and I know you wouldn't react like that without a good reason! But if it's so important to you, we can both go see the Prince after they finish breakfast down there."

"Thank you, Millerna, it does mean a lot to me." A small knock on the door signalled the handmaiden's timely return. She brought with her two trays full of the same delicious food that could be found on the breakfast room and Celena put an end to this subject as they moved to the table. "I just feel guilty about putting him in this awkward situation, more so because this is his first time here. I want to fix things somewhat, if I can."

The two ate quickly and in silence, and after much wielding to Maes' insistence that he be given some of the treats on the table – as well as some tossing him to the ground on account of all the times he leapt up to get them himself – they were ready to start on the Princess' schedule.

"So what will it be," questioned Celena. "Prince Van or Eries first?"

Millerna thought for a second, mentally tracing the course that would take them to either through the Castle. "Actually, I want to drop by the stables before those. We can go to Van after, he'll still be eating by now, and Eries can wait."

Celena nodded and off they were. She was having some difficulties repressing the smile that wanted to take over her face over the mention of that issue.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Oh, nothing..." she replied, dismissing the question lightly. Then she inadvertently let a laugh slip past her tightly shut lips.

"What?" Millerna was starting to smile herself, in curious anticipation.

"Millerna, _the Tyrant_!" She laughed.

"Oh, stop it."

"It is just that I never pictured you as one who would handle that sort of things! You, Millerna, the proud owner of Asturia's most enviable wardrobe, going down to the stables to talk with the servants and ascertain responsibilities... all because a horse was running loose last night? It is just not you!" She finished laughing openly again.

Millerna's smile grew somewhat sombre, and she almost seemed shy when she answered this time. "You're right, of course. It isn't something that I would normally do before. But now, everyone is expecting so much of me, being the Princess... Besides, that horse kept me up most of the night! The more I thought about it, the more I could swear it was one of my father's award-winning stallions. And someone really needs to have a talk with the servants about how they do their job. Have I told you we employed more hands to help around because of the Fanelians' visit?"

"You probably mentioned it," Celena said while they turned a corner. The path was not one they took frequently, but it was just as familiar and automatically done as any other due to all the roaming they had done in their younger years. They were now in the corridor of the servants' quarters and the stable entrance was just at the end of it. All the doors were closed, but the rooms should be predictably empty as everyone would be up and working.

They closed the small distance and entered the vast, wood-panelled area before Millerna continued with her explanation. No sooner had they opened the door, however, that most heads turned their way and a stout man with short grizzly beard ran towards them, closely shadowed by a youth who was probably his assistant. Both bowed impossibly low, as the older man took off his hat and inquired in a low raspy voice. "M'lady Princess Millerna... to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence...?"

Millerna wasted no time with pleasantries. Not that she thought of these people as inferior, it was just that she had other things to do with her time. "I saw one of my father's horses loose last night. I would like you to find the ostler in charge at the time and make sure it does not happen again. This has been happening much too often lately."

"Of course, M'lady Princess Millerna, of course", he assured her, bending his head lower still, if that was possible. He then turned to his assistant, all submissive mannerisms instantly evaporating and his voice growing four times stronger and harsher, as he stared down at the lad. "You heard the Lady. Who was on duty last night?"

The boy blanched, his eyes open wide at the same time the older man's were bristling. "I... I- I was, sir..."

"And how could you let something like this happen! Where's that horse now?"

"I- I d-didn't know any horse was m-missing, sir... And no one's reported anything either... sir." The man was getting ready to roar in fury when the youth had added that second sentence, both trying to save what good impression the Princess had of them. Millerna and Celena, for their part, settled with quietly observing the loud exchange.

"And how does a horse simply open its compartment in the middle of the night to go out for a stroll? Did you even check if someone had left any of them open?!"

"Of course, sir. I always double-check before going to... well, I always check", he countered, averting his embarrassed gaze to the floor.

"Well, then! If it wasn't that, _someone_ had to open it! Did you..."

"NO, sir! I'd never touch one of the King's horses without permission. Especially during my shift!" The lad immediately interrupted, looking almost horror-struck. His boss, however, was exhaling fury at not being able to give some sort of satisfaction to the waiting Princess.

"It had a tack and saddle, so someone had to have taken it outside, I think," Millerna inputted. The man responsible for the stables gave her a kind face before turning his raging-furious one back to his assistant. It was clear he did not particularly care if someone had checked whether the doors were open or not, he was only interested in putting up a good show to not look lazy or incompetent in front of the Princess.

"Is everyone here? I want them all gathered, especially the new ones, to find out exactly who did what last night!" The boy instantly started nodding and was beginning to turn to leave, when he frowned and informed them that there he had yet to see one of the new hands since the previous day. "Get him here, then!"

He scampered towards the servant quarters and as he did, Millerna decided that things were already on track. "I trust you to reach the bottom of this and to assure it doesn't repeat itself. Be especially careful of the Fanelian horses, we can't afford to start losing them." The old man's temper quieted down instantly and he bowed again while acknowledging. "I'll be on my way, and hope I never have to return here over something one of your charges did wrong."

"Of course not, M'lady Princess Millerna. It won't happen again, M'lady Princess..." was the hushed reply that escorted Millerna and Celena outside the stables through the same door they had entered.

They crossed paths with the assistant on the corridor, who by now was banging on one of the doors in a way that would have rivalled his boss' springing access of rage. They could hear someone grumbling furiously on the other side of the wall and just made out the sounds of the door opening as they turned the corner.

Out of sight, the two friends suddenly looked at each other and shared a guiltily wicked smile, having reached the same conclusion: the yelling had only just begun.

––––––––––

Celena gulped and turned for what felt like the hundredth time to her friend. Millerna had yet to move a muscle since the first time she had glanced and simply kept on smiling and staring blankly at her.

"That is really unnerving, you know," she said, looking reproachful. She could just hear her voice over the sound pounding of her heart. "It is almost like you have turned into a dummy."

"Oh Celena, come on, just knock!" She finally exhaled, pointing at the closed door they had been standing in front of for several minutes now. "If I was able to take care of that matter on the stables, so can you do this now. Besides, unlike those servants, who were horrid and did nothing but yelling, this one is actually cute! What is there to fear?"

Celena just rolled her eyes. She had to. Here she was, face to the greatest dilemma that ever existed, and Millerna was talking about who was cute or not. "Someday..." she whispered and, taking in a good gulp of air, knocked on the door.

She immediately regretted both knocking and breathing in before doing it, since that had only made it come out louder. But now was too late to go back... unless they ran for it. She turned to Millerna with hopeful eyes, but the Princess-made-dummy with the vapid smile had made her return. No matter, it was a silly idea anyway.

It was one of the three Fanelian Generals that came to answer the door – _what was his name, Asuva?_ His towering figure blocked the room within from Celena's view, and although she was feeling the urge to gulp quite loudly and slap herself for being idiotic enough to go on with this, it had nothing to do with the reception. He was serenely looking down at the two.

The three stood almost paralysed for a few moments, Celena trying to find her voice and the other two waiting for her to do so. Before that, however, a querying voice came from the inside and someone else stepped on the threshold as the General backed to make room.

"Asona, please leave us." Van hadn't bothered to look his way, as he was too busy staring at Celena, his face devoid of emotion and standing rigid on the spot. The man disappeared instantly into the recesses of the Prince's chambers.

"Prince Van, I have come to apologise for my behaviour last night and to offer some explanations." She cordially said, hoping that the Court's frenzy bellow had not bothered him too much, as Millerna had predicted.

"Yes... let's hear it." He replied through a thickly guarded expression.

"I... I am not exactly sure myself, you see. You did nothing to provoke such a response from my part, I can only assume it was due to an experience I have gone through recently and that has left me in a rather fragile disposition..." She was putting everything she had on this; with any luck she could avoid there being any awkwardness between the two on account of this. "I hope I have not placed you in any uncomfortable situation, especially with all the stories I have heard the Court is coming up with."

Van was clearly thinking through what Celena had said, trying to make up his mind on something. At long last, he smiled briefly. "I accept your apologies, but I won't be satisfied with only that as a reason for your actions. Why don't we go for a walk in the gardens so you can tell me more?"

Celena would later on curse his lack of timing several times over, for, just then, Allen made an appearance, strictly in time to hear what Van had said. He made no effort to hide how happy he was with the apparent splendid way his sister was coming along with the Prince, while Celena, on the other hand, had to bite her tongue to keep the grimace off her face. She had forgotten how Allen knew the Fanelians from before, including the Royal Family. For a second, she wondered whether Allen had come up with this elaborate plan to set her up with the Prince, but then dismissed it as the ridiculous thought it was.

"Celena, Van! And princess Millerna..." he added on a warmer tone to the girl that had yet to say a word or leave her friend's side. "That is a wonderful idea, Van. In fact, why don't we all leave the castle for the afternoon and dine in town?"

Celena froze. He _was_ trying to set them up! She pierced Allen with a long, cold stare, trying to pass a very clear message to him with the intensity of her eyes alone: _no_. When she saw that his smiling face would not falter and that Van had joined his party with some happy nodding, she turned to the only person she had left on her side. Hopefully.

"I would love to, brother, but Millerna and I have already made plans for the rest of the day." She became secretly thankful when she did not have to give the Princess any blatant winks or nudges to gain her cooperation, since she had caught on with her intentions and gave the men a slightly apologetic smile.

"Oh, very well. Van and I will have to go by ourselves." Celena had thought her circulation had returned to normal after Millerna confirmed her excuse, but it seemed once again her talk had backfired. She had just handed her brother the perfect opportunity to speak in private to Van...

"I'd like that" ... and on a silver platter no less.

Down at the stables, the shouting might have gotten the job done and cleared the subject. Up here, though... no yelling would mend this, and Celena would just have to think of a very good way to unearth herself.

––––––––––

The day had not started well, and its end was far from what he had initially planned. Not that that had been a bad thing, though. Just... unexpected.

The red-eyed had gone back to his room, high into the night, determined to sleep off the conversation he had overheard until it was no sooner than noon of the following day. He was having no trouble sleeping, no nightmares or any kind of dreams, and having no appointed time to wake, all had been well. Until the banging commenced.

Jerked out of his sleep, it took him some moments to grasp the notion that he was not supposed to be awake yet and his original plan was failing. Then, as the ruckus settled in, he forced himself to get up, grumbling furiously at whoever it was that dared to disturb him. His annoyance only got deeper when he opened the door to find the boss' second in command.

His boss was an ignorant old man, who resorted to his size to intimidate others and thus solve his problems. He was a fawning man, too old to gain anything from it other than the privilege to be loud. And loud he was, taking great pleasure from it in the process, no doubt. This was a trait that his assistant was quickly learning. The boy had no greater aspirations in life other than to become a cheap copy of his boss.

For a while, he pretended to listen to the speech this idiotic little man was giving him, too focused on his drooping eyelids and lingering warmth from the bed sheets to really care about what was being said. As soon as those last strands of sleep melted away, he walked out and went to town, leaving the scrawny assistant behind without saying a word.

The cries and threats of losing his job that were left in his wake had as much an effect in slowing him down, as the Mystic Moon just fading from the blue skies did. He was used to there always being complaints about him, anyway, even when he did fulfil his duties, and the reason was painfully clear.

It was a cool spring day outside; some clouds made sure that the sky was not too blue nor the sun too hot. The smell of the sea was but a faint memory amid all the fragrant goods for sale on the streets and shops. Asturia was a merchant country that kept good relations with all others, and this was something anyone who had ever been to Pallas could attest to.

It was especially noticeable during the day, when people from everywhere busied themselves browsing the shops and running around full of boxes and bags. Beast-men, Egzardian soldiers, local fisherman delivering their morning catches and Basrati dealers with their fine cloths and rare items were only a small sample of the crowd that could be found flocking the streets.

He spent the rest of the morning observing the comings and goings of these people, fascinated by how absorbed they looked in their tasks. He watched how they went in and out of their houses, sometimes catching a glimpse of the homes within; he saw the sellers grinning away to attract clientele. Everything was so simple to them. Children were playing on some corners, their mood light as they playfully teased and begrudged each other...

A sudden surge of rage permeated him and he decided to leave the open market streets and turn towards a shadier part of the city.

He hated being around people for too long, anyway, for at one point or another, he was bound to end up remembering where he had come from. He had felt as an outsider in his own home, but had come to fully embrace that fate with time. It had become rooted in him, no longer something he was forced to be, but something he wanted to be and the only way he knew how to be.

Ever since he could remember, he had been called devil or cursed, on account of his eyes and white hair. He had been born in a village surrounded by woods, too small for any of the great countries of Gaea to be interested in claiming. He did not recall ever being physically mistreated, simply ignored most of the time. He had had no friends – he remembered with some shame being chased out into the woods at age five, after asking some of the older children to take part in their game: shame for both not having been able to get back at them at that time and for wanting to join them in the first place. To his mother, he had been a disappointment, and to everyone else, a strange little boy to be approached with caution, if ever.

He had grown up without ever knowing what friendship was, so he never missed not having it. He lived by himself and for himself; that had been a resolution he had made fairly early on. Therefore, when he left his hometown behind, he was not exactly leaving home, for he had never had something worthy of that name to begin with.

Not that he longed for a home, or anything else for that matter. He had everything he needed, and what he did not have, he took. He watched as others busied themselves with feelings and love and friends and called them weak fools. He was disgusted to think that those had been the things he had been searching for in the first place when he left his village. In a bitter kind of way, he was glad none of it had come to be, for such things tied people down and deprived them of their freedom.

That was not him. He could do whatever he felt like without having to think twice. He could come and go as the tides and not miss out on anything. He was absolutely free.

And yet, back on the road to Asturia, when he saw that carriage being attacked by a group of low rated thieves, he couldn't help _not_ helping that crying girl. Hope of finding someone who would finally understand him had inexplicably rekindled without his permission, only to be utterly dashed when he revealed his face. The look of horror that had struck the girl hadn't been lost to him, and it had been twice as hard to put behind after expecting the reaction to be different than the one he was accustomed to. _But last night she said that..._

Anyway, he laughed in the faces of these Asturians, who thought themselves to be so great and advanced, when in fact they knew nothing apart from their bargains and business. He knew so much more than they did, he was happier than them, and the blind fools, like his boss, still treated him like he should have never set foot in their city.

It was time to move on to somewhere else, he decided. There was nothing to be gained by staying in such a wretched place. Coming to Asturia had been his worst idea ever. Perhaps he could go to Freid or Zaibach next.

By the time he grabbed something from an outdoor stool to eat as lunch, it was getting late, and later even when he felt like having an afternoon snack. The sun was setting and lights were randomly flickering on throughout the city. The Deceiving Moon was just starting to peek over the rooftops, glowing a sickly red and taking claim over the land before its sibling rose.

Soon, he found himself raiding the by-streets and alleys, occasionally poking his head inside one pub or another, in search of a good place to have a proper meal. He couldn't help thinking ironically to himself how he would never find anything "good" in those secondary alleys that even the sun's light shied from. He was just getting closer to one of the main arteries when a shriek made his head turn.

He was in the middle of a cross-roads and looking to the right, in the direction from where the scream had come, he found the last person he had ever expected to see in such a place: Celena Schezar.

She was running towards him, her shoes clattering like mad in the pavement while she did her best to hold her dress up to ease her movements. Her face was one of panic, sweaty and with loose curls turned wayward. It was obvious she was not used to running, but so was the exceptionality of the situation, for looking behind her he could see a familiar low rated thief in pursuit.

His gaze returned to Celena, only to find her looking back at him. She had just caught sight of him in the darkening street and recognized him. She skidded to a halt beside him, both desperate and pleading.

"It's you!...Please, help me..." she begged between gasps. For an instant, he stared at her, mildly surprised. Then his thoughts strayed to what he had heard her say the previous night and to what had happened that morning, and he made a decision.

_What the hell, I might as well pretend this scum is that low-life of an assistant and exercise a bit._ "Keep running straight and you'll get to one of the main avenues..."

"Oi, you!" The thief interrupted, having caught up with the two as well. The red-eyed ignored him and continued steadily gazing to Celena.

"You'll be safe there. Wait for me there." She looked hesitant, but the knowledge that she would be useless in whatever happened next drove her to comply with what his commanding voice asked.

The clatter of her high heels against stone filled the crossroads a second time, as she ran to safety. The thief made to follow but the red-eyed slid into his path. The burly man – the same he had left unconscious in the woods when first they had met – regarded him unbelievingly.

"Look, kid, this isn't your business, so get out of the way and I won't have to hurt you."

"Kid? Hurt me?" He laughed coldly into the evening, a broken sound that was the first indication of why the thief should be getting afraid and considering escape about now. "Not only are you slow, but also forgetful, old man." He added, derisively. "Forgotten me so soon?"

Little by little, the pieces fell into place on the thief's mind and, as he realised whom this person was, he slowly began pacing backwards.

"I see you've remembered, but now, it's too late to retreat." He gave two steps forward for each one the man took back. His red eyes gleamed as dangerously as his sword when he unsheathed it.

Without further warning, he dashed forward, bringing down his sword from above his head with enough force to cut through timber. The thief could only do so much to parry the blow, placing his blade horizontally in-between the two.

"Are you alone this time? What happened to your friends?" The now attacker asked, in something of morbid curiosity when he drew back his sword.

"Arrested", the man answered simply. He had thought he would have been killed without delay, from the predatory look the other's eyes had taken on after the girl left, but now he was starting to feel as if he might have a chance. "Some days afterwards, a bunch of guards found out our hideout and took in everyone but me. I wasn't there at the time."

"So now you've come to get revenge on the girl," he contemptuously guessed.

"No! Well... yes. I found her here by accident and, you know... thought I might as well have some fun." The man laughed tentatively, unsure of what was going through the other's head. All he knew was that, if it came down to those eyes, he would have been dead long ago. They had to be the most menacing thing he had ever seen. But he felt he regained some sure-ground, as the red-eyed began to smirk too.

"Of course." He dropped his attack stance, and widened his smirk. The man took that as encouragement to do the same, but, to his horror, as soon as his blade had been lowered, the red-eyed slashed upwards, rapid and effectively. A gush of blood spurted forth from the man's chest and midsection.

"Now go and run to a place where I can't find you." He concluded maliciously, temporarily more interested on the blood on the ground than the man, who was by now going back to where he had came from as fast as his injuries permitted, leaving a bloody track behind him.

The thief had already disappeared successfully into the dark when the red-eyed shifted his eyes from the blood and moved again. He wiped the sword to his already ruined shirt with slow deliberate motions and was placing it back in its sheath, when a new inquisitive set of footsteps broke the silence. He turned towards the source. It was Celena Schezar, of course.

Her eyes travelled from the blood on the ground to that on his shirt, from his sword to his eyes. "You did not come... Are you...?"

Her nerves had been sent to the edge of coherency by the sight of blood, so she was unable to formulate the entire question. "I'm fine," he coolly assured her.

"Jeture... what happened?" Her affliction contrasted with his stony face, set and determined. He shook his head "no", not wanting to worsen her shock by giving out any more details than strictly necessary.

"Let me take you back to the castle. What were you doing, wandering through this part of town on your own after sunset?" Grabbing her arm, he started dragging her. She was beyond resistance, the sight of blood having left her too unsettled.

"I... I was looking for... my brother... Van... he must not..." She babbled, too exhausted to care how dignified that sounded. She could not get her eyes to leave her second-time rescuer's shirt.

"Well, your brother is an idiot if he tells you to come here at night, and you should tell him that when you see him," he said without realising how upset he really was with this brother for putting Celena in danger or how uncharacteristically attentive he had become.

Suddenly, she stopped and gently freed her arm from his grasp. She had just noticed that there was a small red stain on her skin, where his unclean hands had touched her. She made the move to wipe it with her other hand, but then started crying without being able to touch it. He noticed this and got the blood out himself, ripping a piece of his shirt.

"Easy, I didn't do anything he didn't deserve." He held her shoulders and locked gazes. "Take deep breaths and try to calm down." He was suddenly regretting doing what he had done, if it was causing her this much stress.

"You killed him!" She blurted, before closing her eyes and following his instructions. Then, she added, "I thought you said your sword was not sharp."

He almost laughed. "You remember that, eh? Well, after rescuing you, I figured I should start walking around better equipped. You feeling better now?"

She nodded and they resumed the walk up to the Castle gates.

"I would have preferred it if you hadn't," Celena said.

"Hadn't what?"

"Sharpened the sword."

"It's a weapon, it's meant to hurt people."

"Then I do not think I like weapons very much."

"How would you have done it then?"

No response.

"We're here. It was a pleasure escorting you... again." And, with a small bow, he started walking away, leaving her by herself as he had done the first time they had met.

"Wait! Thank you for saving me."

"It was nothing."

"What is your name?" She feebly asked.

"Dilandau."

"No last name?"

"Albatou."

"How did you know I was staying at the Castle, Dilandau Albatou?"

Pause.

"Good-night, Celena Schezar." And he left her again.


	6. Asturia For An Asturian

**VI. Asturia For An Asturian**

_Dilandau._ The name softly rolled from Celena's tongue as her heart rate quieted down and she double-checked everything that had happened in the past afternoon. Shock was still stepping out of scene and full recognition of her surroundings sinking in.

She had spent the afternoon in town with Millerna, as she had told her brother, but her thoughts had never truly strayed from the fear of the encounter that would take place between Allen and Van later. She had been as enthusiastic as ever when the Princess dragged her through every store she could think of – and since she was never that enthusiastic after the fourth shop, Millerna failed to notice how distraught Celena had actually been.

Then the Princess had found some friends that Celena didn't really know along the way, and the young Schezar made a decision. She quickly excused herself, saying she was too tired to stay and would go back to the Castle. Her real intentions, though, consisted of tracking down her brother and Van, however unsuccessful that venture was destined to be.

She had never realised just how many pubs and café's there were in Pallas until now, but her naïveté kept whispering to her that no matter the number, she was bound to come upon where the pair was gathered sooner or later. She searched and looked, and soon forgot to keep track of which part of town she was wandering at the moment. There was no visible mark to separate the "walk with caution" streets from the general ones, just a different, colder, feel to the air that Celena would have taken notice of, had she not been so focused in imagining all the scenarios that could spring from this meeting.

Retreating with some measure of discomfort from an alcohol-reeking pub that could seriously gain from a cleaning, Celena bumped her back into a massive form. Immediately turning to apologise to the man that was steadily cursing her clumsiness, her words died before birth. She knew the man all too well, and could tell that he had recognised her too when he broke into a toothless grin.

From there on, there wasn't much she could tell about what had happened. _Run_, her brain commanded and her limbs obeyed. Her memories were clouded by horror, but she remembered finding her saviour – the very same who had saved her from this thief before –, then blood and now... the Castle.

Dilandau had all but vanished into the trees around the entrance, going off as mysteriously as he had the first time they had met. And as Celena's brain caught up and settled back into the real world, she realised how – yet again – she had let him go without properly talking to him. She had asked his name like it was something she had mentally scheduled to do when she found him next, but that was pretty much it.

She looked up at the sky. The small Ivory Moon was now shining a sickly orange, while the Mystic Moon hid behind it, shrouded in the dark. It was not awfully late yet, and her gaze dropped back to the path Dilandau had taken. He had saved her twice now, would it be a bother to him if she went after him to talk? A tendril of something she could not identify warmed her inside, and for the second time on that day, she ran.

The earthen road Dilandau had taken went around the castle and she knew that it would eventually lead to the gardens and then connect them to the wild forests behind the Royal grounds, passing by the stables. Why the adventurer would come to these parts when it was evening, she did not know, but she followed the trail, expecting to find him somewhere after the next bend.

Much to Celena's surprise, though, he was not anywhere in sight. Her running broke down with uncertainty and she looked all around for places where he could have gone. Fortunately, she had reached the end of the private gardens and the following stretch of land was quite plain. It wasn't like there was anywhere to hide here. Unless...

_The stables? He is staying at the palace?_ – She thought with some wonder. That certainly explained how he knew she was staying there, but she found the idea of both of them staying at the same place somewhat unsettling. Had he seen her without her knowing? Up until now, she had come to accept that she probably never would see him again or find out whom he was, and yet, here he was, living in the very same building as her.

She slid into the stables, not sure if what she was doing was right – what would happen if a guard suddenly spotted her? –, but true to her guess, the red-eyed was just a couple of meters away from the entrance, crouched behind a pile of hay and studying something she could not see. She made her way over to him, an unexpected jolt of mischievousness nearly making her chuckle out loud.

"What are you doing", she whispered next to his ear. She could barely hear the question herself, but he turned so fast that she might as well have shouted. His face was ashen with surprise, and Celena quickly put her hands over her mouth to shush a wave of mirth.

"I should ask you the same. Go away", and he turned back to his inspection of, Celena could now see, the stable-boy's patrol of the corridors. She was somewhat disappointed that he had nothing else to say to her being there.

"I wanted to talk to you..." she started, but then he took off round the hay on a crouched run, leaving her staring at empty air. She took up his position to spy where he was going. He had just disappeared through the servants' halls, and she sat with a sigh. Did he really care that little about her that he would leave when she had been talking? Now that she thought about it, he hadn't exactly been talkative before. But he could at least be curious as to what she wanted!

The minutes ticked by, Celena felt just about to doze off, the ostler kept up his routine surveys, and Dilandau had yet to give any signs that he _would_ be back. Something like half an hour later, a small movement caught Celena's eye. Dilandau had just come back out of the halls (sporting a clean shirt) and seeing Celena, he waved at her to go outside, then disappeared into a corridor parallel to the one the ostler was checking.

He wanted her to leave! Well, she would leave all right, and she would go straight to her room too. He could have at least told her to go _before_ sprinting away and save her the trouble of all that waiting... oh, wait, he had. But by now, her mind had completely changed and she put all thoughts of getting to know Dilandau behind her back, surely whatever conversation the two of them might have had would have been thoroughly uninteresting. Throwing a last glance towards his general direction, she walked out to the open air.

Her pace a tentative one, she only got the chance to walk some meters before all hell broke loose in the building behind her. First a crash, then a horse neighing to the sound of some very loud encouragements from Dilandau, multiple cracks from the horse's hooves, and finally the guards' shouting after them.

Celena stared in awe, as a grey stallion burst forth from the commotion. Atop it, Dilandau regarded her with a semi puzzled, semi exasperated look and lowered his hand to pull her up behind him. Then he dashed in a gallop towards the woods before the others could catch up.

All in all, it was the most uncomfortable – and summarily awkward – ride Celena had ever had. She had the strong impression that Dilandau wasn't exactly having the time of his life either, simply because pulling up dress wearing girls while galloping was something that required technique.

Celena sat precariously with both legs to one side, with the stallion's powerful muscles constantly flexing beneath her. She could feel herself slipping off millimetre by millimetre, and the only thing she could do was curl herself around the side of the horse in a fruitless hold. That, and cling with all her might to the man sitting in front of her.

She took the fact that he had not turned purple yet as a good sign. On one hand, she had a vice-like grip on the arm that had started the whole predicament, so much that Dilandau had to ride with one hand. As for her other arm, it was wrapped in a manner she was not exactly aware of around his shoulders and neck, finishing with her hand pulling at his hair.

It was not comfortable or secure, but the thing that really nagged at Celena was that she wasn't altogether sure of what she was doing in the back of that horse.

Dilandau had made no complaints so far, but as soon as they entered the cover of the forests and were far enough that the guards' clamours were lost, he halted and shrugged her off him. Celena ungracefully fell on the ground with a small yelp.

"Damn it, woman!" He swore, and then took a large gulp of air, before turning irritably towards Celena, who was rubbing her sore backside. "Couldn't you have found something else to hold on to?"

"Like what? I do not even want to think of all the times I could have fallen off while you sped your way here! Besides, you were the one who brought me along without asking if I wanted to come – which I did not! So, can you please take me back now?" The words could have probably sounded intimidating or reproachful, if only they had come from someone else's mouth. With Celena, they came out as a sort of pleading moan. She was exhausted and disgruntled with everything that had already happened. This was turning out to be the official worst day of her life so far.

Dilandau dismounted purposefully and held her shoulders to help her stand. "Go back, when every soldier in the castle is searching for the maker of that ruckus? Not a chance!" Tears came to Celena's eyes in disbelief and rage. Again, if it were anyone else in her position, a slap would have been heard echoing off the trees at this point. Celena made a quick note to become "someone else" as soon as possible and spoke with quiet strength to her red-eyed "rescuer".

"Look... I just went after you to the stables because I wanted to talk to you and get to know the person who has saved me twice now. But then you left me there waiting without saying a word, and when I was going back, you... Are you listening?"

Somewhere along the way, Dilandau had turned his back on her and had busied himself strapping a pack to the saddle. His movements were measured and casual, which only unnerved Celena further. She gave up.

"So... what have you planned next, Dilandau? It better involve sneaking back around the guards somehow, because I am tired and I want to go to my room and sleep."

"Not today. We can't go back and we can't get caught. So come on, we have to go a bit further till we find somewhere safe to stay for the night", he said while hoisting himself back up the saddle.

"«Somewhere safe»? Jichia, you make it sound like we are criminals or something!" He extended a hand to help her climb behind him. Holding the overly long skirts with one hand, she gladly accepted and this time settled in a decent riding position.

"You're not, but I am. I stole a horse, remember?"

"You mean this horse is not... yours?" She concluded, suddenly feeling very stupid for ever believing it could have been. Now that she thought it over this was a familiar stallion, rather like the one standing outside her balcony last night. She hung her head. "_Why_ did you have to bring me along?"

"I couldn't have left you in the middle of the fray. You'd be in trouble."

"I wish you were selfish", she stated mutely. He laughed.

"I usually am." Then silence fell and the grey horse started in a slow walk.

Celena found out that trees and woods were very beautiful sceneries and everything, but only in the daytime and when you were not tired, aching or otherwise unwell. In the dark, the twisting limbs and eerie shadows alone were enough to keep anyone on edge, and after looking behind her back for the hundredth time, Celena decided that she had let the fear escalate far enough. She closed her eyes, hugged Dilandau to keep from falling and leaned on to his back, implicitly trusting him to look out for both of them. He had already done it twice, so she found it was not something at all hard to do.

Dilandau was indeed keeping a sharp ear on their surroundings, however the forms around them weren't nearly as disturbing to him as they were to Celena. He had travelled often in the night and besides, his home village was completely cut off from the world by the same type of thick woods. Under normal circumstances, he would have been completely cool, but he had something to slightly disturb him as well. He was not used to having company.

He had originally gone to the stables to get his things, take a horse and leave for Freid – a simple plan. In his short stay, he felt he had already had enough of Asturia to last a lifetime, but then the girl had come and refused to go. He thought that maybe if he ignored her she would disappear, but she had stayed. And so he had been forced to bring her along.

When he had felt her weight on his back and her arms around his midsection, he had unconsciously sat a bit straighter. Then he realised her scared breathing was slowly becoming deeper and steadier – she was relaxing, falling asleep perhaps? This was a completely new situation to him: this trust, this interest in him. When they had paused earlier and she had said that she wanted to get to know him, his first instinct was to say that she didn't have to. Then he realised that it was something that had truly come from her interest, not obligation, and he had felt severely... out of place. "Getting to know" and "Dilandau" were not two concepts that people would usually string together, and yet Celena had done so.

He already knew the girl was naïve, idealising a world that simply did not exist, but that was because she was so sheltered from reality. Dilandau knew so, because he remembered the conversation he had overheard between her and princess Millerna. He also remembered relating to her issues near the end of it, much to his dismay. He had realised then that both had similar problems, while opposite at the same time. People tended to act towards both of them without knowing or wanting to know who really hid behind their persona, except they put Dilandau aside, and brought Celena to the middle of things.

He already knew all of this. Therefore, the question that remained and that he had been so far trying to avoid was: what should he do about it?

"Celena?" he whispered over his shoulder. No response, she was either asleep or very nearly so. He would have to find a place to stop; they were far enough from Pallas already.

Following his instincts and what he remembered of the lay of the land, he directed the tiring horse to climb up a small hill. From what he had seen, there was a clearing there, where they could see everything around them down to the seashore without being easily seen back. It was the perfect place to hide.

By the time they got there, the events had caught up with Celena, for she was deeply asleep. Dilandau carried her down and did his best to make her a bed out of the spare clothing in his pack. Then he sat down next to her and against a tree, to wait the night away, while keeping watch and hoping that none of the Asturians below knew about their hideout.

––––––––––

Celena woke feeling somewhat stiff, her bones protesting about the chill, which left her wondering why on Gaea had she left the window to her room open last night. Her eyelids were too heavy to open, but even if they had not been, she had no desire whatsoever to open them to the sun. She just wanted to immerse herself back into the comfort of sleep, entertaining the thought of skipping yet another morning in the presence of Asturia's finest aristocracy. Besides, her joints were really aching. She shifted in her bed, curled up, rolled from side to side, stretched, but each position was only more uncomfortable than the one before. Until her head fell off the pillow, into the grass.

The Schezar noblewoman instantly opened her eyes, to come face to face with not the ceiling she had expected, with the painted scenes she knew so well from Asturian folklore and mythology, but something far more prettier than those mixed oils could ever produce: the real thing. Puffy clouds passed above in the clear blue skies of a new morning, soaring peacefully in a characteristically calm spring day. Looking round, another piece of art presented itself. She seemed to be on a sort of elevated plateau, at the edge of which, the grass gave way to a craggy downward slope and beyond it the sea. Celena could just make the shapes of seagulls grazing the water, some setting down to float on the white-speckled surface.

Another cursory glance around brought her to the opposite side of the clearing, and she was mildly surprised by what she found. But only mildly. Thick greenery surrounded that side, and at the base of a tree she spotted her uncertain friend Dilandau. He was visibly sleeping, sitting against the tree-trunk in what, Celena could tell without much room for doubt, was a backbreaking position. Not wanting him to wake up and not be able to move, she picked her "bedclothes", which she now realised were clothes of his, and tried to put them behind his head and back, all the while not disturbing him. Somehow, her nimble hands did it and she moved back away not wanting to push her luck.

Some meters to the right, she saw their grey horse, tied to a low branch relaxing, and next to it, the backpack Dilandau had brought from the stables. Soon, she had scavenged herself some breakfast and was back at the edge of the plateau contemplating the sea, while the red-eyed did not wake.

She considered how scared she should be at this point, but could not bring herself to feel it. Rationally putting it, she had just been kidnapped by someone who for all she knew had killed a man, hours previously. Furthermore, she knew nothing for certain about him, other than the fact he had helped her twice. She did not know why he had done it, only that she was very grateful that he had been there. At first, she had thought that he was just a kind of knightly adventurer that liked to help whoever he came upon, but after seeing him last night with blood dripping from his blade she was not so sure anymore.

Still, he had kindled a spark of intrigue in her that would not let her rest. Celena was very aware that she was curious by nature, a trait for which her brother had admonished her more than once, and she was also aware that the kind of curiosity she was experiencing was the one that would not go away until she did something about it. That was why she had sought him out by the stables. That was also why she was not afraid, though for all she knew, she was completely dependant on a stranger.

She had tried befriending him, but for some reason the dialogue between them had always died a swift death. _No,_ she corrected herself. _He never let it last, not me._ Maybe he saw her as a spoiled aristocrat – Jichia knew how _she_ could not stand being around them for too long. She kept telling herself that she was not like them, that she was different, but what if she had only been fooling herself? Was that how he really saw her?

She supposed he was right to some extent. No matter if she was spoiled or not, a friendship between them would have sent plenty of mouths blabbering and caused many eyes to turn their way. A stable-hand and a noble, it was simply not a pair often seen walking around town. Not that she had anything against it, quite the contrary; she had many friends among the helpers at the Schezar mansion. But Dilandau was not a person she had to deal with or even see regularly. In fact, had Celena never been attacked in the woods in the first place, they would have never crossed paths.

She remembered how enchanted she had been by his voice then. And then marvelled how the recent events had unravelled the distinct hard edge to her. It had been a chilling night, on more ways than one. She hoped that the features she had seen at that dark alley were not his predominant ones. No, erase that. She just wanted to know _who_ this strangely intriguing person was and calm the confusion she was feeling.

Confusion at his actions, at his words and motives, but most of all, confusion about what was going on inside her own head. He was this rogue that somehow brought out things that she had thought were buried inside her, shrivelled or non-existent, and at the same time, with every little thing he did, he proved himself to be diametrically opposed to her.

He had stolen horses, injured men, and almost left her unaided in the middle of nowhere. Dilandau acted on his feelings without giving it much further thought. Celena was doomed to ponder on consequences and appearances whenever she did anything. He was completely free – she was not.

She supposed that was a great part of why he spiked her curiosity so badly. She had always wanted to know what it would be like to _not_ be Celena Schezar. The rest would undoubtedly have to do with the fact that, when she was alone with him, she felt at ease enough to insult, demand and lean on his back for protection, all the while seeing through his rude manners to realise they were never ill intentioned.

"Hey, you took all the bread!" Jerked out of her thoughts, it took Celena some moments to register the cry she had just heard. She did not have the chance, or the need, to defend herself, though. "Oh, wait. It's here."

She heard quite a bit of rummaging going on behind her, before Dilandau actually came to sit beside her. His hair was shaggier than she recalled seeing it just minutes ago, and true to her predictions he was indeed rubbing his muscles, while stuffing himself on the bread.

"Sleep well?"

He stared at her for a few seconds before answering, averting his eyes to the city below. "I had to keep watch most of the night and my neck is sore."

"Oh."

Unsure of what else to say, she too went back to studying the gulls. What she really wanted to do was tell him all about her musings to try and quiet her thoughts. Unfortunately, she had no idea of how to bring up the subject and shooting out question after question was just too weird a way to strike up a conversation as far as she was concerned, so she kept her mouth shut.

Celena vaguely wondered that he could help to break the silence as well, but stealing a glance his way, he seemed to be far too interested in downing his food and water, in what she would dub as quite an uncivilized fashion. In fact, he did not look too worried about her, like she wasn't even there. That annoyed her slightly.

"I have lived in Pallas all my life and I never knew this place existed. It is beautiful", she finally said.

"From what I've seen of Asturians so far that doesn't surprise me..." he sarcastically replied.

"Are you insulting me?" He amusedly shook his head in the negative. "Then what is that supposed to mean?"

He studied her for some seconds, before taking a swig of his water and answering. "Just that from what I've seen of Asturians, they seem have gotten too comfortable in their houses and making their trades. I'd say they've become so detached from the wilderness around them that they get intimidated by it."

"Oh, we have courageous men and soldiers who would have no trouble scouring 'the wilderness', unlike women such as me", she remarked.

"Like your brother?" Celena did not like the insinuation, and hastily rose to defend her sibling's name.

"My brother Allen is a Knight Caeli, one among only twelve men great enough to hold the honour of that title."

He shrugged. "I never cared much for titles", he offered neutrally. "And I thought your brother's name was Van?"

"Van?" She laughed. "Who told you that?"

"You did. Right after I rescued you."

"I really must have been dazed if I told you that!" No answer was forthcoming from his end, and Celena settled for playing with the grass for a while. Then, "So, if you think Asturian men are such... whatever it was you meant, where do you come from, Dilandau?"

He calmly put the water bottle on the ground and considered what to say. There was something about her that cut through the walls he had erected around his deeper self and made him more talkative, and he did not like the fact that he didn't know what it was. He had already decided that if his instincts acted so peculiarly around her, it wouldn't hurt to be peculiar himself with her – she even sincerely appeared to not be bothered by him and his looks; how peculiar was that. He shook his head to clear it; those were questions that would need to wait for an answer.

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?" she asked, disappointed.

"I'm not sure myself where it is or what it's called." She eyed him distrustfully, considering the possibility that he might be making fun of her. "Don't look at me like that", he told her with a grimace and she shook her head to let him know she wasn't being serious.

"Do you at least know which country it is?"

"I don't think it belongs to any of the Seven", he said, referring to the seven countries of Gaea: Asturia, Fanelia, Zaibach, Freid, Basram, Egzardia and Cesario. "I can tell you that it's somewhere to the north-west of Egzardia."

"That is almost on the other side of the world! You must have travelled a lot." He gave her a smile, but looked like he was not about to reveal anything further about himself. If she had known him for a longer period of time, Celena would have pressed for more, now that she was on-topic, but as it was she would have to let it go and wait for a second round. She didn't want to come across as pushy. Then she remembered something else that had been on her mind. "Late last night, were you listening in the gardens?"

He went very still, looking at her through the corner of his eye. "What makes you say that?"

"The loose horse? It was the same as this one here."

"Horses look alike, and anyone could have been out at night", he said, but Celena could tell from his closed expression that he was trying to hide something. That could only mean it had been him.

_Oh dear Jichia... and Millerna had been asking me about _him_ just then! And I said..._ She quickly cleared her dry throat, to disguise how embarrassed she felt. "So... when are we going back?"

_Back... home_, Dilandau added bitterly in his mind. It brought his feet back to the earth and reminded him all too sharply that the girl sitting next to him was not like him. She had a place to stay, a life to go back to and carry on, people who held her to one place. Definitely not the same as him, who just the previous day had been contemplating leaving Asturia for good as soon as possible.

He had packed his scarce belongings and brought them along just in hopes of seeing that plan through. Then, Celena had to have been in the way and ruin it for him. He would remain at least one more day in Asturia, not because of anything he had found there, but only to return this one Asturian to her home. She owed him a favour or three, but the price of not returning her to where she belonged was far greater than what she had due to pay. Besides, it would be simple enough to go back one more time to the palace, and then repeat the stunt.

"We will have to wait a little while, still", he said, once again not looking at her. "Just till evening. In the meanwhile, I'm going to go get some real sleep, if you don't mind."

––––––––––

"Do you see them?"

"Yes.

"Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Yes."

"Do you mean it?"

"Yes."

"I would not like you to get in trouble."

"I won't."

"I suppose I could always make an excuse for you..."

"Uh-huh."

"Are they still there?"

Celena halted her string of whispered questioning and stretched her neck in hopes of peering over the vegetation ahead to find out the last answer for herself. Dilandau had explained to her how they were going to sneak in, but she was still rather nervous about what could happen if they were spotted. Sure, she was a Schezar, sister to one of the Knights – that had to give her some privileges and liberty to do stupid things like this now and then – but Dilandau did not have that kind of safety net and she would hate it if he got in trouble because of her.

He may have stolen a horse and nearly killed a man, but he had also saved her and was now putting himself in risk yet again, to return her to her brother after getting her out of trouble with the guards. Her stomach was doing flips, and she had not even started imagining what kind of punishment Dilandau could get for what they were doing.

In the meanwhile, Dilandau was crouching under said bushes, sneaking glances to assess the situation before them. All was quiet at the entrance to the stables, with only the occasional messenger running past. He figured it was pretty much empty; now was a good time as any to sneak the stallion inside.

He was counting on the soldiers being deployed into the woods, to keep up the search for the kidnapper of Asturia's royal horse. The effort came as rather ridiculous to the two concerned, given that Celena had been "missing" as well and no one had likely noticed.

It was with extra care that Dilandau had planned Celena's and his return. They had left their safe position some hours before sunset and, with careful manoeuvring, had skirted the path of any incoming parties. It had been fastidious work and considerably delayed the two, but Dilandau knew it to be necessary, as a careless approach would have landed them – him – in serious trouble.

As it was, Celena was just tired of running in circles and constantly stopping for no apparent reason, and her anxiety was dangerously grating on his nerves, with her constant questions and frequent nudges and suggestions. But now, finally, they had reached their destination, and he could get rid her annoying presence and return to his planning of how to go to Freid. All that was left was to get into the stables and return the horse, and then they would both be free.

"Come on! What do you see?" She furiously whispered.

"The same as you, unless you're somehow blind and haven't told me!" He remarked through clenched teeth. Before it could really sink in the Schezar noblewoman's awareness however, he advanced: "the coast is clear; bring the horse."

Successfully tripping in her haste, Celena held onto the reigns for much needed reassurance and stability, but the horse accompanied the movement and lowered his head, and she ended up in the ground all the same.

"Schezar! Come on, we don't have time for that!"

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Hair thoroughly dishevelled, clothes muddied and adorned with a twig or four, bone and stomach-weary for the day, Celena Schezar swore to never again let curiosity get her in over her head. At least not like this.

She was calmly walking towards her room, taking as many secondary routes as possible so as to avoid any direct contact with (other) civilized people and wishing all the way for her soft bed, fresh sheets and fluffy pillow. Therefore, it was not with any measure of excitement that she rounded the corner and came upon her brother Allen and princess Millerna.

"Celena! Where have you..." Her brother shot the automatic inquiry, only to quiet down almost immediately. "_What_ happened?" Millerna, for her part, was too busy taking in her appearance with something akin to horror to conjure up any speech.

"Oh, I... went for a walk with a friend", she tried, knowing at once that she would be asked to elaborate on that. For a moment the two presently polished Asturian Court members just stared, then Allen seemed to make up his mind on something.

"Never mind. Princess Millerna, could I ask you to get her to her room and help her get ready? I need to go, Van will be waiting for me."

"Of course, Allen, leave Celena to me. I'll have her back with you at once." With that, Allen almost ran over the two girls and out the way Celena had come from, leaving his sister to wonder what it was exactly that she had missed that day that had these two running like there was a fire on their back.

It was rather strange, finding out that the world had advanced while she was tucked away in a universe of "Dilandau, King's horse and running from guards", but somehow it had, and it felt like she was turning – or perhaps returning – into a completely different persona. It was disorienting, to realise that she had absolutely no idea of what was going on or what was currently expected of her.

"Millerna? What...?" Celena began, as her friend tucked her arm in hers and proceeded to drag her through the short remainder of the distance to her room. What followed then was mechanical in its efficiency, and slightly uncanny in the fact that it was being executed by princess Millerna, whom she had always associated with the expression "dallying around".

The door shut behind the two, followed by a series of short orders – "get cleaned up... sit here... let me fix your hair... put this on..." – and before she knew it, Celena looked more like her old self again.

"What is going on, Millerna?" She finally managed, when she realised they were on rushing out the door again.

"Well," Millerna huffed out without slowing down the pace, "while you were away, you missed quite a few developments in the real world, my friend. You missed the fireworks over the canal today, and daddy's announcement at dinner last night that a skill contest would be held, for the entertainment of the Fanelians' during their stay. A lot of people have been wondering about your disappearance, so I'm afraid you've only made the rumours about you and prince Van worse, but I think the most important part you've missed is" – they stopped short to catch their breath outside the doors that would take them into that night's feast – "that your brother Allen has been getting friendly with the Prince ever since yesterday."

"Friendly?"

"_Very_ friendly."


	7. Allies

**A/N: While cleaning up old files on my computer, I came across this chapter that I had forgotten existed. It's not complete (Celena was supposed to ask Dilandau to go down to one of the canals and drown Van at the end... or something to that effect) but I figured I'd post it anyway. This was the chapter that spawned "Blessing of a God". I still don't know what to do about this fic: whether to revamp it (again) or just give up on it. Like I said on my profile, since there were so many people reading this fic at one point, I'm willing to put it up for adoption just to save it. So I'm taking this opportunity to ask: any takers?**

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**VII. Allies**

Celena leaned against the wall and cursed herself for being stupid enough to have been gone with Dilandau for so long and not even once thinking of what consequences it would generate. Especially since the very thing that had gotten her in the streets of Pallas and in harm's way in the first place was her not wanting Allen to be left alone with Van and come up with any ideas about her life behind her back. And without quite knowing how things had gotten so out of control, she had managed to do the exact opposite and give both of them time to spare.

She had never felt as miserable as now, studying her hands and wishing that they had the power to erase what had already happened. Even though this would not be the first time she had to face Allen's constant "planning", she had a feeling she had used up the last ounce of luck Jeture had set aside for her with the Edissis.

A series of loud thuds, the sounds of someone's boots against the marble floor as they ran, broke through Celena's lethargy and brought both ladies' heads up to look for the source. The steps immediately slowed down, never stopping, and Celena had to keep her face in check so as to not gawk and give her away to the Princess.

Coming towards them with his head low, in a white and gold-trimmed version of the servants' finest garb, was none other than Dilandau. Celena watched in silence as he moved past between the Princess and her without so much as a glance either way, and disappeared through the doors.

"I've never seen him around..." Celena heard Millerna comment. "Must be one of the new servants. Did you see what I was telling you yesterday? He didn't even pause to bow to me."

Celena just unfroze her stance and followed Millerna through the entrance to the dinning hall, blindly assenting to what her friend was saying. She was relieved that Dilandau had not made it obvious to Millerna that they knew each other, for all the explaining that that would entail, however at the same time it was very odd to see him dressed like that. She thought he worked at the stables.

The realisation that with every minute that went by, her thoughts were becoming more and more jumbled with each new bit of information that was thrown in, hit her full-force again. It was something like having a tower ready to tip over inside her head.

Under normal circumstances, she would know how things were supposed to be, right?

Not caring for whatever topic the Princess had last been on, Celena plunged into the ocean swarming her head, determined to make heads and tails of it, and asked her friend: "So let me see if I have it all down, Millerna. While I was away, my brother dearest plotted against me..."

"I wouldn't call it that", Millerna weakly interjected.

"... and became a good friend of dragon-boy." The Princess made a face at the nickname, but made no move to correct her. "This started yesterday."

The two girls sidestepped a servant carrying a shaky tray of spiffy drinks none of them had ever tried and moved the rest of their conversation to a more secluded corner of the hall. Or rather, Celena did, since Millerna was only following her as she tried to catch a glimpse of either Allen or Van over the heads of the present crowd.

"And for today, they have a big reconciliation planned. I apologise to the Prince for running off when we met, he apologises for staring in the first place, we both stare awkwardly at each other, and then finally Allen throws in the suggestion that we should get married. Is that it?"

"Oh, no!" The shortest blonde sharply turned her head around to face her friend, apparently deciding that giving a proper answer, eye-to-eye contact therefore included, was more important than searching for Allen's distinguishing gold hair and blue uniform. "Allen said he just wants you to get to know Prince Van."

"Millerna, I know my brother. Do not tell me you really believe that the thought of marriage never crossed his mind. I know Allen is perfection to you, but you must see what he is trying to do."

"Of course I do. That's why I made him promise earlier today that he would not push you into anything you didn't want."

"You did that?" Celena asked, truly surprised that her friend had been there for her in her absence. She was even surprised she had thought to do such a thing. "What did he say?"

"He said that you should at least give Van a chance, which is something you haven't done so far, according to him", Millerna told her, turning her eyes back to scanning the crowd.

"Is that why I have to be his company for this dinner?"

"Yes. Though I guess he mostly wants to introduce you to each other tonight. I imagine that the really hard part for you will come tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? You did not mention anything about me having to see him after this if I do not want to. What have you not told me?" Would surprises never cease? Celena thought she was getting tired of all the catching-up.

"Well... remember how I said daddy was hosting a tournament for the Fanelians?" Millerna said, biting her lip and looking apologetic.

"He did not..." Celena instantly denied, with already a good idea of what was to come formed in her mind.

"I'm afraid he did. You'll have to make Van the _Arkait Vows_ tomorrow."

"That was Allen's suggestion, wasn't it?" The Schezar was going very near the edge of bristling; only her intensive training to be a polite lady held her back. Millerna on the other hand, was nodding before the question was made, obviously sorry for her friend. "Oh, when I see him, I'll..."

"There you are!" Allen himself showed up next to the two. His sister would have immediately launched herself on an argument, if only they were not in such public settings and he had not continued leading them to another part of the room. "Come, they are already gathering for dinner at the table and Van is waiting to take you, Celena."

"Allen, I do not..."

"Hush. Later, Celena!" The youngest Schezar did indeed quiet her mouth, but that did not mean that she was particularly happy to do what was expected of her. "Just talk with him, you'll see he's not so bad."

Entering an adjoining room, the very same where the first dinner with the Fanelians had been held, the sounds of cheery conversation and pleasant-smelling dishes filled Celena's senses. She willed herself to feel accordingly, but putting on her usual mask was proving to be exceptionally difficult this time. Regarding the already seated people, she supposed some sort of _déjà vu_ was in order, but this time was hardly the same as the first.

The Fanelians had left their side of the table and were now dispersed throughout, according to whatever acquaintances they had made. That was the obvious difference. The other was that prince Van had not yet taken his seat, and had instead been waiting for her to enter to escort her to a seat next to his.

She smiled at his offered hand and followed his lead, but inside she sighed while promising herself that whatever impending vows were upon her, she would try to not let them cloud her impression and attitude to whatever happened tonight.

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Right elbow on the wooden table and head supported by his right hand, Dilandau watched the Asturian chefs give the meal some last touches, waiting for the dishes he would have to carry to the adjoining room. His collar was making his neck itch, but he let that insignificant trouble slide off him as he observed, bored beyond his wits.

Men and women worked together in strange synchrony, performing an endless succession of movements, economical and concise. Peel, turn, chop, mix, and one plate was done. Cut, drop, brew, pour, and one more was finished. He had to admit there was a certain art to it, though it was one he considered not just petty, but utterly useless.

He still wasn't over the terrible luck of his that had landed him in this white-and-gold suit and sitting at this table. About an hour earlier, when he had just been entering the corridor that led to his quarters, he had stumbled upon none other than his boss and the assistant. Some yelling had ensued, about him skipping his duties for two days on a row and him being lucky that someone had fallen ill and he was needed, but Dilandau would have preferred that they had thrown him out so he could go to Freid. So, here he was, in a jacket that was too tight for him, covering for someone whom he did not know – and bored beyond his wits.

Knowing that Celena was on the other side of the door and that he would be serving her meal was not all that exciting a thing either. In fact, he rathered not seeing her again, as he found it impossible to act as he normally would when she was around. It made him do stupid things like saving her life and think stupid things like how nice she was. If he wasn't careful, the next thing he might think was that they could be friends.

One of the chefs slapped a large crystal tureen filled to the brim with something green on the table in front of Dilandau, effectively ending his boredom, and pointed imperiously towards the door, where other two men that would be serving at the Royal table were standing with their own loads and waiting for him to join. A vague thought of "why are they waiting if only one can go through the door at a time" crossed the red-eyed's mind, before he complied with the bossy chef's orders.

He entered the room at the end of the three-man file and watched as those in front of him successively took up positions, leaving him in charge of the farthest end of the table, where the King of Asturia was seated, and – joy of joys – Celena Schezar.

Dilandau set down the tureen with a fair amount of disgust in the process. He had to keep reminding himself what unfortunate turn of events had led him to do such an idiotic job, and on the other hand, what wonderful paths lay ahead of him once the night was over and done with. Namely, the one to Freid. He was thankful that, at least, Celena did not seem to have noticed that for moments he had been standing just next to her.

He stepped back into the shadows to watch the fat King stuff the awful-smelling green things, and tried to listen in the conversations at the table to pass the time. Some were so ridiculous that he had to switch to another lest he start laughing out loud or possibly gag, and in the end, after much reluctance, he settled for whatever it was that Celena was saying.

"Escaflowne? So he is the Fanelian God?"

"Yes, also known as the White Dragon. He is the God of War", a shorthaired brunet that sat to the immediate left of the Schezar noblewoman replied.

"Of War? What good can possibly come from having a God that encourages war?" _Interesting topic for dinner._ He wondered who this man was.

"Ah, people are usually led to believe that, because 'God of War' is such a general term. It's true that all the legends about Escaflowne include bloody wars and conflicts, but at Fanelia we say that only through war can one improve and surpass oneself." _How very well put_, Dilandau acidly thought.

"You mean to tell me that killing others makes you a better person?" Celena had dropped her fork and was staring open-mouthed at the young man. Dilandau wondered who the Fanelian idiot was.

"No, of course not", the brunet exclaimed. "Try not to imagine a battlefield and armies with swords, and think instead of an argument between two people. Let's say they have different opinions on something; you could call that a conflict, a small-scale war, right?"

"I suppose", Celena dubiously confirmed. "But I still don't see how that could be a good thing."

"Well, let me finish, then. By discussing it, our two people are looking at the problem from all different perspectives, or at least more than they would have used had they been each on their own. They are learning from each other, and by the end of the argument, they will both be in a better position to state their views on the subject. Do you see now?"

"I think I do", Celena said, although doubt never left her eyes. "They may come to realise that they weren't as righteous or correct as they thought they were at the beginning. But that was only an argument. What about real wars? The sword and army type?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Dilandau saw that his two companions were going to remove the plates from their portions of the table and get the following dish. Turning his attention back to the other people at his end, he realised that he had missed that the King and everyone else had already finished eating their greens. He walked into the light to do the same as the other servants.

"Well, of course that kind of war is never a good thing", the Fanelian genius was saying as Dilandau rounded the end of the table to collect all the plates. "But Escaflowne teaches how to face war when it is inevitable: with honour and a clear head." Tureen on top of the stack and out the service door before the brunet could say anything else.

Dilandau was thinking along the lines that he would rather tread the Draconian-infested Hells than do this sort of job ever again.


End file.
