Twisted Fortune - An Escaflowne Fanfiction
By Bonnejeanne and Nixers
Contact: bonnejeanne@yahoo.com and nixerchan@aol.com
Warnings: Spoilers, Lemon
Archive: Soon to be at Zaibach Soldier
Notes: Set a little over one year after Vision of Escaflowne's end.
Chapter Five - (cont.)
Part 10
The General looked out from the observation tower across the expanse of Zaibach's capitol. From this vantage one could see almost to the mountain, and with the distance viewer, those peaks came into sharp focus. But his eye lingered on the plain below.
The once beautiful city...
It was almost half deserted. Much, in fact most of it was intact, the invading armies had not ransacked it, nor burned, except here and there were rowdy troops got out from under their superior's control. But it had lost its life. The excitement, the *electricity* that had hummed through the most advanced human city on Gaea was gone.
Rubbing the side of his face where an old scar irritated him, Adelphos vowed to see that energy return. Zaibach would be again what it had once been... no, no it would be greater. It would be the mistress all Gaea would obey. Dornkirk might be dead, but the nation he'd inspired and built would not die nor surrender her majesty so easily.
"I will see to it," he growled to the silent bite of the north wind. Impatiently he stamped his foot. Just like the wizard to keep him waiting. Even in this hellish time, they retained an air of superiority, but the General abided it at the moment. He needed them.
As if his irritable thoughts were an uncanny cue, the door behind him hissed open, allowing the gaunt sorcerer entrance to the tower. The other man moved to his side with an almost oily grace, his sallow features, though, betrayed a mix of ill concealed arrogance and frustration.
Foruma pulled a crinkled sheet of paper from the voluminous sleeves of his black robes, and held it out under Adelphos nose, never turning from the window to look at him. "I suppose you already know of this. It's only half of what we asked for. We have expenses."
The General regarded the wizard with a barely concealed scowl. "Those wolves have all but bled the country dry," he growled in answer. "Many go without to get what you need. But don't nag. I, too have needs. I need to see some results. You said you could draw those who had been touched by the Fortune device. I've noticed no influx of allies..."
Long fingers snatched the paper back in irritation, tucking it again into some pocket. "What do you expect? I could explain the technicalities of it, but I doubt you have the patience for the training. Obviously. The Call has been put out, but it has to start slow, unless you would like suspicions and arms to go up around the world?"
Adelphos grimaced. "They think us a cur with teeth pulled," he answered. "I need something... something to show for the faith," he almost spit the word, "I've already placed in your science. Perhaps it's time to help the magic along a little... locate my captain and we'll persuade him to come home..."
"It will need to be stabilized again," the Sorcerer said, his fingers twisting as he contemplated the idea. He shot Adelphos a glance out of the corner of his eye. "I've always been under the impression that you weren't happy with our work on that one."
The General favored the wizard with a contemptuous look. "I was not happy with your meddling. I'm short of weapons. I need the sharpest and cruelest I can lay my hands on."
The other man made a sound that could have been anything between a snort and a sigh. "Very well. We still have our... network in place for our acquisitions of new subjects. I'm sure we can employ the same methods to retain it again."
The General regarded the mage for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Bring my captain back to me," he said. "And I'll get you what you asked for. I'll get you more than what you asked for. I'll starve the very babies in the streets to get you what you want... but remember, we must have results. I want weapons... I want the Device working again. I want... power. Don't fail me."
"And you shall have it," the other man smiled, turning towards the door with a slow wave of his hand. "With all possible speed."
As the doors hissed shut behind him with that solid finality, he lost a touch of his composure. "Creature," he snapped irritably at the servant waiting outside for him.
The golden head turned quickly, and one dark eye met the wizard's gaze. The other was covered with a patch of black material, covering the scar made by hot shrapnel. Bowing deferentially, the beastman moved only a little stiffly. "My lord."
"I want the message sent out immediately that number 64 is to be retaken immediately. I want it back here by the end of the week or my displeasure will be felt." The sorcerer scowled thoughtfully, before a smirk quirked up one end of his lips. "Also mention that any other..... opportunities.. that make themselves available are to be taken. The younger, the better."
The beastman bowed, covering the sudden pounding of his heart with long practice. "Yes, my lord," he answered smoothly. "I'll inform the network... and monitor the taking myself, if my lord permits?"
The man stared at the golden furred beastman for a long moment before turning his back. "Then failure will be on your head," he hissed as he swept down the hall, inwardly pleased at the turn of events.
Jajuka watched the wizard's departure, maintaining the impassive expression that had long been his shield. They wouldn't leave the child alone. There was only one thing he could do about it - make sure the hands that did the deed were his own.
As Van and Serena approached the castle gates, still wide open and fairly busy with traffic, Serena noticed a building off to the side, inside the gates but away from the other castle buildings. It was simple, but there was something about the clean lines of the building that spoke of something that went beyond function. Buttresses pulled the roof structure up and pointed it to the sky. The door to the building was a doubled one, which looked to open outward, though it was now closed, and the proportions of the portal were vast, especially as compared to the overall size of the structure. It looked like a door built for giants, something one might see on a castle gate, but set into this building the effect was one of something slightly odd.
Serena paused her stride, placing a hand on Van's shoulder, both to stop him and get his attention. "We never went there," she stated, a note of inquisitiveness riding her voice.
Van stopped, and the relaxed easiness that had flavored his customary energy disappeared. He looked at the building for a moment and then by sheer will he made his shoulders loosen the rigid set. "I'm... not sure you want to go there, Serena," he said quietly. "We used to have a building here called the Shrine. When it was rebuilt, I had it named the Sanctuary. It's... it's a place that guards our memories... of the war."
Serena looked at the massive structure, practically radiating curiosity. "Such a calm name for something that's got you all tense."
Van continued to look at the building, his eyes dark. "I thought I was at peace with my memories, Serena," he said. "But it seems I'm not. I can't explain. I've done enough to... to you... in the name of my unrest."
One eyebrow rose and Serena smirked, not looking from the doors. "It can't be much of a great guardian then."
Van rubbed his fingers against the ball of his thumb absently. "No... I suppose not," he said. He turned his eyes from the building and looked at her. "You like flirting with fire, don't you?"
She blinked, turning to look sharply at Van. She seemed to give it a long moment of thought. "Is there any other way to live?"
"I thought so," he answered. "Now I couldn't say. Serena... I pushed you. I'm trying not to let that happen again but now you are the one pushing. I just can't tell whether you truly want to know, or if you just... have the devil in you."
Serena got a vaguely unfocused look. "I'm just dreaming," she said slowly, "And the only time I'm awake is when I'm asleep." She looked at Van, suddenly grinning again. "So what does it matter what I do, or what I want?"
Involuntarily, Van's hands rose to rest on her shoulders. In spite of everything he'd resolved, he found himself searching her eyes. He swallowed. "It matters," he said, and then words deserted him.
"How do you know that?" she asked quietly.
He blinked, and a little unwilling anguish leaked into his eyes. "It matters... to me," he managed. The words shook him but the truth of them was too manifest to escape.
She seemed lost for words. Finally, she settled on a small, genuine smile. "I like this dream," she confessed softly.
His eyes widened. Suddenly all his focus was on her, the building, the people around them, none of it existed. "I... I was a coward," he whispered. "I didn't tell her when it mattered... I won't... I won't..." His head dropped close to hers and suddenly their lips brushed. It was a momentary contact but it was electric.
She nearly jumped at the briefest of touches. She searched his face with a mix of hope and fear. Reaching forward slowly, she brushed one of his bangs back, only to have it fall forward again. The barest of a fond smile flickered before she leaned forward again, this time, erasing any doubt of accident.
Van's eyes closed and he met her, finding her mouth, pressing into the softness of her lips. His lips parted and she felt the warm breath against hers. There was a tenderness in it, but also a taste of wakening hunger. The barest touch of a warm tongue against her lips, and then he slowly drew back, even as his arms slid around her shoulders, drawing her against him protectively.
Serena's eyes slid back open. A ghost of her customary grin appeared. "This sounds corny, but why did you stop?" Her own arms came round his back, one hand pausing to fiddle with the cord it found around his neck, barely felt beneath black hair.
Van blinked, and his mouth curved. He leaned close and murmured into her ear, "Because we're standing in the middle of the courtyard... your honor..."
Her eyes glittered with humor. "My honor?" she shrugged. "It's good to let them know that their king likes to flirt with fire too."
He shook his head and his chest shook slightly with silent laughter, as a deep flush crept under the tan of his cheeks. His fingers stroked the back of her neck and pushed up into her hair. Leaning down, he deliberately kissed her, and his tongue traced the surface of her lips. He sucked a little of the fullness of her lower lip into his mouth and grazed it with his teeth, then gently began urging her mouth to open.
She gave him entrance without hesitation, leaning into him almost bonelessly. Her free hand gathered a portion of shirt, as her breathing quickened slightly. Her tongue darted out to meet his, not content with letting him lead completely.
Everything that she did caused his heart to pound harder and faster in his chest until he was sure she could feel it. He lost himself for a little while in the taste of her, and felt her tongue sliding around his. His mouth pressed harder against hers and his tongue moved deeper into her mouth, exploring and retreating. As her tongue twined with his, he opened his own mouth wider, giving her access. His arms tightened and he lost himself in the heat.
She, this time, was the first to break the lingering kiss, pulling back with obvious reluctance. She angled slightly downward, giving a feathery kiss along his neck, her own warm breath bushing the sensitive skin. He could feel her smile slightly against this throat. "How much," she murmured, "Do you want to bet there will be rumors of an heir by tonight?"
Van groaned, all but crushing her against him. Then he loosened his embrace enough to let her breathe. "You *are* fire," he asserted, his voice a little ragged. He didn't dare to look around. Grabbing her hand, he twined his fingers through hers and pulled her abruptly, almost roughly from the spot where they'd been standing. Courtyard, doorways, corridors went by in a blur. The next thing she knew, he was closing the door of her room.
Once the door was closed he pulled her up against him, looking down. His eyes were pools of turbulence, but nowhere in the maelstrom was anything dark, or cold.
"Serena," he said softly, with a note of confusion, and a note of longing.
"Mmm?" she asked, her hands busy plucking at the laces of his tunic.
He closed his eyes as he recognized what she was doing. Taking a deep breath, he lifted her off her feet and then placed her on the wide bed, leaning over her. Every moment he expected something... a slap? No... a punch...
Instead, the hands that met his face were firm, but gentle, drawing him back down to her. "Promise me something." She said, dusting his lips with a few light kisses between her words.
Van gave his head a slight shake as if trying to clear dizziness. His eyes fastened on hers, hearing the words drop like cool stones into a troubled pool. "What?"
She leaned back a bit into the pillow, her eyes completely unguarded, with a touch of vulnerability. "Don't let me wake up. I don't want to anymore."
His eyes widened and suddenly he was shaking, his head dropped to her shoulder. His arms tightened again, clutching her against him as if she might disappear. The shaking continued and she felt something warm and damp brush against her neck.
"Please," she asked, not really certain anymore what she was requesting. Her hands reached up and pulled at his shirt, attempting to tug it over and off his shoulders.
Her words had opened a howling crack in his soul and he fought to master it, to get back to the moment just before when he'd felt so perfectly whole and alive. "I promise," he whispered finally, almost harshly in her ear. His lips followed his words, kissing her neck with desperation and growing need. He felt her hands pulling and leaned back long enough to help her remove the tunic, looking down with eyes that were haunted but filled with heat and focused entirely on her.
At his words, something seemed to break behind her eyes, some restraint finally falling away. She tossed aside her earlier purchase and reached up, her hands wandering over his shoulders, light and experimental. With a little more surety, she pushed against him, capturing his lips again as she sought to pull him to her side.
Van stretched out beside her, still leaning over her, his body a firm weight against hers. As they kissed, his hands moved over her face, her hair, down to her shoulders and along her sides, and one leg moved over her, pressed against, and then between hers. There was something very unpracticed, wild and instinctive about his actions, and a tension of something kept barely in check, slowly slipping out of bounds.
Her hands clenched tightly on his shoulders as she felt his movement, a fleeting touch of friction and pressure. She made a soft noise, something near a growl and a purr. She deepened the kiss, letting one hand slip between them, tracing this chest and stomach with hot fingertips, slowly drifting lower.
His mouth moved from hers, traveling over her skin kissing and nuzzling. One hand moved up, fumbling with the fastening of her tunic, his tension spurred on by the touch of her hands against his skin. Had she hesitated, drawn back, he'd likely have cooled in an instant but her reactions all added to the speed and weight of the avalanche of sanity rolling over his civilized restraints. Tugging harder, something gave and the front of the tunic opened as a couple of buttons flew off onto the bed and the floor. He closed his eyes, nuzzling her chest, blind to the fact that he'd all but obliterated the line of no return.
Serena arched slightly beneath him, a hand sliding up his back to tangle in his dark hair. The warm lassitude she'd fallen into from his caresses, turned to a brighter excitement at his actions. Her other hand, without much thought on her part was working on his belt, fumbling as the stiff leather and metal refused to give way easily.
At first unconscious of her efforts, Van was lost in the worship of flesh. His lips moved, paying tribute, and his tongue followed, tasting something unique that incited him further. As her back arched, offering more, he captured something which called to him on the most primal level, and feasted blindly, greedily, before moving to seek another such prize. His own heat was burning him from the inside, making his skin feel tight, as his blood raced harder.
Her breathing hitched irregularly, eyes glazing slightly at the unfamiliar fire he was invoking, giving up her efforts and conscious thought she merely reacted, her hands raking naillessly, trying to urge him on to more and keep him there forever.
She instinctively pushed one leg up between his, trying to stir him on further, heat separated from heat by flimsy and inconsequential seeming layers of cloth.
His chest vibrated with a muffled groan as she pressed into the tight, sensitive area. His hips responded, grinding him against her, an act which only increased the torment. One of his hands spidered down along her body, flirting over skin, then over cloth until his fingers fit themselves between her legs, pressing against the soft mound, rubbing against it until he felt dampness through the fabric. The scent alone, rising between their bodies, was providing enough intoxication to banish rational thought to the ends of time.
He leaned up and back, eyes more than half-lidded, mouth swollen, looking down over the landscape of creamy flesh that had begun to take on a flush. He reached down for his own belt, undoing it one-handed with the familiarity of long practice. Then he bent down to brush her heated face with a kiss. His heart thumped rapidly, but the sight of her lying beneath touched a note in his heart and his kissed her tenderly, the urgency and need beating at him.
She lifted herself to his touch, the twin sensations enveloping her, giving the feeling of drowning painlessly, surrounded and bending her to the demands of her own body. She was only half aware of the soft sounds that fell from her own lips, focused only on the cinnamon eyes above her. She broke the kiss, breathlessly, "Now," she pleaded, "Whatever."
One of her hands reached down, rubbing between his own legs, trying to recreate the reaction in him from before, as she returned his kiss.
Van shuddered as if a bolt of electricity had gone through him. Her words reached the silent watching part of him that was somehow still aware of everything. He growled softly into the kiss and reached down, suddenly forceful, on the edge of violence. His hands gripped her garments and pulled, the sounds of fabric parting adding a counterpoint to their labored breaths. One way or another, he freed her of clothes, boots, all, then pulled her tormenting hand up and guided it to the laces of his trousers, pulling them with her. As he slid between her legs, his mouth moved down to worship her flesh. The next sensation she had was of something that seemed too firm to be flesh, pressing up against her body, sliding along the warmth and wetness there.
She let out a soft cry, wrapping her legs loosely around him. The sensation seemed to crash around her, wildfire racing up behind her eyes as she used her body to beg, trying, reaching blindly for something more. "Van," she panted, only half aware.
Something gave him the grace to answer, not with words but with a kiss, and his body as he moved against her. Reaching between them, he guided himself and then his hips took over, pressing up and into her, and he shuddered with the sensation. Something made him glance down, searching for signs of pain or discomfort, but he could not hold himself back and began rocking against her, finding a rhythm that matched the beat of his heart.
Serena matched him with a sense of desperation, her inner muscles clenching slightly around him, even as her legs and arms drew him closer, trying to urge him deeper.
It was easy to obey that urging, it was what he wanted, and he gave in completely to the primal need, sliding his hands down to fasten around her hips, grinding their bodies together with each impact, panting, taking and surrendering in one act. His body moved faster, building slowly as a delicious friction spread shocks of pleasure from the dance. He had no experience to tell him how to make this work for her, only the silent language their bodies were speaking, but he responded to each shift, each moan, every tightening of her body without conscious intervention or hesitation.
Her hands clutched the sheets below her as her bare feet fought for purchase, trying to increase the electricity surging through her body, pulsing with each movement against her, within her. Eyes shut tightly, flew open as something within trembled and gave out, pulses of sheer satisfied pleasure drowning her coherency, as she stiffened, Van's name escaping her throat again, given volume through satisfaction.
The sensation of her body clutching his, the sound of her voice, the cry of his name, and the crashing wave of his own pleasure hit fourfold and he lost himself, gasping her name in turn, burying himself as everything in him seemed to empty, flooding him with an intensity beyond anything he'd ever experienced. Somehow his hips stilled, and he pushed his face into the skin of her neck, clinging tightly to her as if she might somehow melt away from him.
In time he found himself, and shifted, pulling her onto her side as he rolled onto the bed beside her, keeping their bodies joined for the little time they could. His hands moved up and down her back and he kissed her urgently, then held her against his chest.
She curled against him, her breathing slowly evening out. Serena melted into his embraces, into him, as if he were the only thing in the world keeping her warm. She reached out, one finger tracing its way across the slight sheen covering his chest.
"Stay here?" she murmured.
His arms tightened. "Serena..." he said softly, his voice a little hoarse. "Where would I go?" He kissed her forehead, unable to face anything but the moment yet.
She buried her face in the junction of his neck and shoulder. "Doesn't matter where," came the muffled response. "Just stay here now."
He nodded, stroking her hair back from her face. Then silently, knowing no other way to answer the impossibility of the situation, he reached up and lifted the chain from around his neck and placed it around hers. "As you wish," he murmured, kissing the top of her head like a benediction.
She propped herself up slightly on one elbow to look at the pendant. "I'm starting to like that phrase." She smiled and brushed her lips against his tenderly.
He answered with a hungry kiss of his own, one that tasted of needs and conflicts, but more than anything of fragile acceptance. "Gaea was formed of wishes," he said softly, with dead conviction. "Sometimes... sometimes wishes are all we have."
"It can't be so bad, if a wish from some place with birds made of fire could create my dragon." She grinned. "Sounds like they had the right idea."
He clutched her against him, wanting to protect that precious expression and knowing he did not have the power. Tilting her head up, he kissed her again. Then he murmured painfully, "Serena... I can't... I can't promise you'll never wake up... but I promise that if you ever do, I won't dream without you."
She looked at him quietly for a moment. "That will have to be enough then." She glanced towards the window. "Are we skipping dinner?"
He almost shuddered, thinking of the looks they'd face. Nothing unkind but he wasn't ready to surrender this intimacy to anyone. "We are," he said decisively. "Someone can bring us a tray."
"I'm not all that hungry anyway," she grinned, tucking herself back against him. "Given this sort of a choice I think I could gain to skip a meal or two." Idly, she brushed at his bangs, impulsively seeking any contact, however small.
Van traced the contours of her cheek with a finger. "You're never very hungry," he observed quietly. "But knowing my folk, we won't be allowed to skip the meal. I'll lay odds the tray will appear. Oh gods..." he sighed, trying not to think any further along those lines. Then he took a breath and looked into her eyes. "You... asked me to stay. Now I'm asking you. Stay. Stay here with me. Please..."
She glanced at him, expression thoughtful, but holding none of the guards that he'd come accustomed to. "I wont leave, not of my free will. That's all I can promise."
He held her tightly, silent for a moment. "That's enough," he said.
She turned her head, breaking their gaze. She was quiet for a long moment, before beginning in a quiet, unsteady voice. "I had a nightmare once, of touching the heart of a dragon. It shown me, at the time, a lot of things I didn't want to see. A happiness that could have been. You were there. In it, I started to hate you, unreasonably, fanatically. That you could go on living in that dream, while I had to be awake." He could feel, more than see, her shrug.
After a pause, she shook her head, still not looking at him. "You don't have to answer that. I don't know why I said it."
Van shuddered slightly, trying to pull her closer when they were already as close as they could get. "I know why you said it," he answered in a slightly strangled voice. "But it doesn't matter any more. I woke up. I don't have that dream any more. Now I'm trying to stay in yours."
"Who else would I dream about?" she relaxed in his arms, a note of sleepiness entering her voice.
He relaxed slowly as she did. Kissing the tip of her nose, he found a smile somewhere and settled her a little more comfortably against him. "From now on, no one else," he said, with a touch of mock-assertiveness. "Sleep, Serena... I'll guard you and chase off the dinner tray."
She snorted, but complied, her grin returning slowly. "I knew you had a sense of humor in there somewhere."
His chest moved silently. "I didn't," he whispered, and dropped a light kiss on each of her eyelids.
True to his word, Van watched as Serena slept, but sleep did not come to the young king himself. The physical relaxation he felt was profound, unlike anything he could remember, but he was kept awake by two influences: a fascination for watching the girl's sleeping face beside him, and a distant internal building of conflict.
Tenderly he brushed a lock of hair back from her cheek, and then his hand stilled, frozen, as a flash of memory intruded on present time... a lock of pale hair, falling to the ground, slowly spattered by drops of crimson...
His eyes closed and his hand clenched into a fist, before he forced it to relax.
/The only time I'm awake is when I'm asleep.../
Van swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. He felt such a combination of joy and terror that he was transfixed for a time, watching Serena's face and wondering who slept in his arms.
Not long past midnight, he slowly disentangled himself, tucking a bedcover around her tenderly, and pulled on his pants from the floor by the bed. He padded silently to the door, opened it only wide enough to slip through, and closed it carefully behind him. Sure enough, there was a dinner tray on a trestle, now cold out in the hall by the door. He smiled absently, and then moved though the castle corridors like a shadow.
The two moons cast light on the courtyard but even the lookouts drowsing on the towers did not notice the graceful figure that crossed to the Sanctuary and went inside.
Walking through the dark building, Van made his way again to the wide circular mosaic in the center of the structure. His face held no expression, which was odd for the turmoil of emotions that had been churning inside him. Standing there for a moment as if lost in thought, he turned his gaze downward and knelt in the center of the floor. Touching a red glass mosaic chip, set at the breast of the flying white dragon depicted, he pressed it with a soft murmur of his name.
A section of the tiled floor indented, and then slid back, revealing a small, concealed recess. Inside it was a round, crystalline red stone that seemed to glow with a dim inner light. Van reached down and gasped it and as his skin contacted the surface, the spark inside grew brighter.
Removing the energist from the recess, he didn't wait or look as the floor again sealed the space leaving no clue that it had been there.
Standing, Van lifted the stone above his head. A swirl of wind and a crackle of energy filled the room, and in front of him, the stone wall slid upwards, revealing a much vaster concealed space and the object within.
Van moved forward, jumping gracefully to the knee of the metal giant. Still with little or no expression, he looked up at it, and then slowly presented the energist to the red jewel at the left side of the guymelef's chest. His hand moved into the seemingly solid gem as if it were thick fluid and he placed the energist inside and withdrew his hand.
Silent and unmoving still, Escaflowne came to life.
"Something is coming," Van whispered to the guymelef. "The waking, or the nightmare, I know not which but... someone must protect the dreamers..."
If Escaflowne answered the young king, it was an answer that only he could hear.
By the time the twin moons were setting, Van was sliding back into the bed with Serena, curling his arms around her gently as his eyes closed. Not noticing the awakened glow from the pendant around her neck, Van nestled his cheek against Serena's hair and let the warmth carry him to a place of peace, where at last, he slept.
After the relatively quiet and civilized scene at breakfast, Merle was somewhat subdued as she followed Dryden around for the first few hours of the day. She seemed distracted, and kept looking over her shoulder, and finally just scampered off without saying where she was going.
Several hours later she returned just as unexpectedly and made herself at home on the study couch, feigning a catnap. Dryden could tell she was feigning because her tail never stopped twitching even though her eyes were closed. From the dust on her sandals, she'd been out on the city streets for a bit, maybe the whole time she'd been gone.
After pretending to nap for a while, she managed a wide yawn and opened her eyes, sitting up to begin an intense grooming session.
Dryden watched her over the top of the book he'd turned to while waiting for her to give up her pretense with a sort of fond amusement. "Anything interesting in the Square today?"
Merle paused and looked at him. "No... just silly vendors giving perfectly good ornaments away for free... to *some* people."
"And I suppose this *person* was of no interest to you at all? You know, it's not uncommon for the merchants to give things to those in the company of Van; they know that we always reimburse them."
The catgirl favored him with a mildly interested look. "Well... maybe that's the reason. But I think they're just too friendly to strangers." With that pronouncement, she turned and carefully began grooming the fur on her legs, which had gotten longer in the past year. The view at this juncture was darn near indecent but Merle was oblivious.
Dryden closed the book suddenly, nearly catching his thumb carelessly. With a hurried step he pulled himself out of his chair and moved to the window, finding the crowd below to be a safer sight. "I suppose you've been skipping classes on etiquette again," he finally managed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers.
"Mmmmm?" she purred without much attention, but a quick look shot at the tall merchant's back revealed a hint of satisfied mischief twinkling in wide eyes. "I thought I was very polite at breakfast..."
"Admirably so," he said, latching onto the new topic gratefully. "You've been quite well mannered since our new guest has arrived."
Merle stopped grooming and looked up, her expression troubled. "Dryden?" she said softly, her voice sounding a touch more adult as she unconsciously dropped the honorific.
The subtle change got his attention. He turned to look at her. "Yes?"
"There's a secret about her, isn't there?" she asked slowly. "Something Van-sama knows, and you know. I've been trying and trying to remember but all I can think of is that Allen-sama said once his sister had disappeared, and then she came back. Why.... why does Van-sama look so sad sometimes when he looks away from her? And why does he like her so much if she makes him sad?"
"Yes, there is a secret," he started slowly. "She doesn't remember who she was, and it's probably best if she never does."
Merle watched his face intently. "But you know," she said softly. "And Van-sama knows."
Dryden nodded, "And, I take it that you want to as well," he asked, feeling slightly queasy. There was a sense of an impending explosion about the whole thing.
Merle got up and came to him, looking up into his face. She didn't answer right away, and her wide eyes were troubled, echoing a little the deep disturbance that had been in them the night before. "I'm... not sure," she whispered. "I want to protect Van-sama.... but I think he won't let me... will he?"
He shook his head. "Not about this. I don't even think he knows entirely what he's doing, or what there is to protect."
She placed a tentative paw on his chest, almost entreating. "Do I need to know?" she whispered. "You would tell me if I did need to know? But you haven't... so..."
"I'm hoping, that no one does." He took her paw in his hand and gently smoothed the fur there with his thumb. "I'm not so sure how valid that hope is anymore. She is, as Van said, her own person."
Merle dropped her eyes and a small silver drop fell from one. "I can feel his heart... reaching for her. Like it did once before. And that girl left him. It's wrong!" she cried suddenly and whirled away, dropping to the couch to curl into a ball. "It's wrong... it hurts when they don't know, when they don't know you..." she buried her face in her arms, cutting off any more words.
Dryden stared, one hand laying still on the windowpane and at a complete loss for words. "Sometimes..... you have to let go of what you love," he said. In his mind was an image of a golden haired woman, telling him that she probably wouldn't wait. "It hurts, it's probably wrong, but ... they say healing comes from trying again."
Like quicksilver, the catgirl uncurled and jumped to her feet, suddenly right in front of his face.
"Then why don't you!" she cried softly, and suddenly kissed him, quickly but warmly on the lips. A second later she whirled out of the room, leaving the door to bang shut behind her.
Dryden, with a distinct, disconnected feeling, slowly touched his lips, not turning his eyes from the closed door. "I'm sorry, Merle," he said to the door. "I don't know."
Merle ran down the hallway, heedless of anyone else passing by, and found the turret stairs, climbing until she reached the top of the spiral. Ignoring the lookout, she bounded to one of the windows and jumped out, landing sure-footedly on the castle roof and climbed again until she found a place at the peak, inaccessible and lonely, and perched there, crying her eyes out until the tears ran dry.
She could feel pain and sorrow, and danger as well slowly surrounding the boy she loved as a brother, as the only family she had, and she could feel her own heart straining at the restrictions that seemed so intangible yet so impenetrable, keeping her from the man who had unobtrusively become the other center of her universe.
THE END OF PART 10