23-Jan-2002
Twisted Fortune - An Escaflowne Fanfiction
By Bonnejeanne and Nixers
Contact: bonnejeanne@yahoo.com and nixerchan@aol.com
Warnings: Spoilers
Notes: Set a little over one year after Vision of Escaflowne's end.
Chapter Twelve - Inversion
Part 24
It was with grave concerns that Jajuka watched the red Alseides ascend, before it was lost under the cloaking manteaux. The strange partnership between his charge and the Fanelian king continued to puzzle and concern him greatly. He'd no love for the young man who'd come so close to ending his life, and had so ferociously tried to kill his charge, though Jajuka knew quite well it was Dilandau who had scoured the field for the king, even after the bomb had been dropped and the battle became a free for all. Whatever tied them together was almost tangible and it made the beastman uneasy, an emotion that had first manifested at the sight of Serena and Van approaching with hands locked together.
However, the assignment was clear and he knew enough to be certain that any deviation in its execution would not be overlooked by his young captain.
Using the scout melef, he made his way in secret to the mountain range that cut Zaibach and Fanelia off from easy access with each other, and used the same route he'd done on his previous visit. Moving though the woods, he had to stop for the passage of a large earth dragon, and the beast's proximity stirred that sense of unease yet again. And something about the way it moved, around him, hinted that the beast was aware of his presence, which it ought not to be.
Waiting until the creature had departed the area, he resumed his journey to the castle vicinity.
The guards on the parapets above never seemed to notice the smaller melef, their eyes tracking the woodlands from above, searching perhaps for signs of the returns of the invisible giants. There were a few guards that had survived that day, and still spoke of the event with ill concealed fear. But even their eyes were not trained for something as small as to not brush aside entire trees as they moved.
Jajuka stopped just inside the cover of the trees and slipped out of the mecha, leaving it locked and invisible. From there he made his way to the city on foot. He'd covered his uniform with a long cloak and kept it closed, but saw no reason to hide his face, since Fanelia was home to many beast peoples and his appearance in that respect would not be remarkable.
Presenting himself to the guards at the castle gate, which was wide open with people moving to and fro, he asked politely how he might come into the presence of Dryden Fassa.
"The Regent?" The guard answered rhetorically, he glanced over Jajuka once, a habitual scan for weapons beneath the long cloak the beastman wore. "Not hard, he's usually in the audience after lunch if it will hold until tomorrow." The man said leaning against his spear.
"Regretfully, it will not," the beastman answered politely. "My errand is an urgent one. Would there be an alternative?"
"Everyone's errands are urgent these days." The guard replied without rancor, just a stoic weariness. "He'll likely be in the study. Though I warn you friend, if the news is bad it probably should wait until there's witnesses. There's a catwoman who's fiercely protective of the good merchant."
Jajuka bowed slightly. "Your advice is appreciated, sir," he said. "Could you point me in the direction of the study, then?"
The guard glance to the side of the beastman, catching the eyes of his fellow on watch. "Lem, can you show the man the way?" The other guard, a much younger man, gave a sharp salute. "Good man. Take your hour afterwards."
"Yessir, sir." The one identified as Lem said, obviously relieved for the break. He leaned his spear against the doorframe and moved ahead of Jajuka, nodding politely if hurriedly at the beastman. "This way sir."
The guardsman Lem led the way quickly through the hallways, stopping outside of a particular door, his hand halfway to knocking when he looked back at Jajuka. With a bit of an apologetic smile he said. "Even with the refugees and the folk returning, it's pretty easy to know everyone and anyone. Things have been a bit rough here, stranger, if you could keep it brief? Sir?" The last was added on as if by some habit.
Jajuka nodded. "I'll endeavor to make it as brief as possible," he said. "Thanks for your help."
"Thankye kindly sir," he replied, if a bit awkwardly. He rapped on the door quickly and opened it a few inches. "Dryden sir? A man to see you." The response was muffled, but affirmative, and the guard stepped back, tipping his hat at Jajuka and opening the door wide for him.
The behavior of the Fanelians was something Jajuka found curious, consistent with what he'd observed from a distance, but again it came back to him that if... if Serena had actually found a place in this world, it would have been a good one. He shook off such concerns and stepped into the study, looking curiously at the man who was referred to both as merchant and Regent and obviously regarded with affection by the people here.
Dryden had glanced up briefly from the scattered papers in front of him, and noting the unfamiliar face, did a double take. With a hurried gesture he sought to quickly straighten the desk in front of him and then stand. The merchant prince made an odd appearance, wearing a fashion styled by both Ezgaurdia and places the beastman couldn't identify, as well as a certain disregard for the pricey articles. Disheveled hair topped off the eclectic appearance of the tall man, further rounded by a quill carelessly tucked and forgot behind one ear. A strange ornament.
Dryden raked a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting guests, Mr..."
"My name is not important," Jajuka said. "Only what I have for you. You *are* Dryden Fassa, that seems clear enough." The man matched the king's description and there were no signs of any deception in the whole country practically. Jajuka slid a hand out of his cloak and extended it, with a folded piece of parchment, sealed with wax over a white feather.
The simple motion produced an array of alarm, hesitant relief and suspicion. The merchant had, for a brief by unmistakable moment caught a glimpse of the uniform below the long cloak the beastman wore. With a slow and suddenly sober movement he accepted the parchment stepping back to the desk a moment, finding an opener and breaking the seal. He scanned the first words, hoping they would banish a terrible suspicion of a ransom demanded or other threats. When the familiar handwriting greeted him, his face cleared a degree.
The note was written in haste, even Van's never copybook-perfect scrawl showed that, but it was just as clear that care had been taken with the words.
'Dryden - I am safe and well. There was a misunderstanding with persons in Zaibach acting independently of the government. It has been resolved, I believe. However it has been brought to me that there is a possibility of a threat to Fanelia's safety from a totally other source, and I regret that I cannot return to explain before doing what I can to prevent it from becoming more than a threat. I hope to return soon, though. If there have been any actions taken against Zaibach, please suspend them until I return, or until you have further, real need to do otherwise. Communicate with Allan if he is not already there. Tell him that his sister is alive and well, though not present. Tell him exactly that. And that I will not allow any harm to come to her, on my life. I've another letter for Merle, but let her know that I am safe enough. Continue to watch over her and Fanelia. I cannot repay my debt to you. Always - Van.'
Quickly deciphering the king's handwriting, Dryden took the extra time under the guise of reading, to compose the multitude of thoughts and emotions that the curt but informative words had managed to stir. /They're using him to strike their enemy. Of course they are, they'd be foolish not to. And his message to Allen could only mean one thing./ His heart sunk a little at that, as well as it was eased a bit at the fact that they could relax the post and guards, that no immediate attack would be forthcoming. Personal worries had to be pushed aside for the public ones, he reminded himself.
He looked up from the parchment to the waiting beastman. "There was mention of a second letter?" Dryden asked quietly.
The beastman inclined his head. "I'm to put it in her hands," he said. Those were not exactly orders, but the king had described her and had not mentioned the letter could be given to another.
Dryden nodded. "I expect she will be around shortly." He paused, folding the letter neatly again and tucking it carefully into his sash. "It would be perhaps too much to hope that you would be privy to their whereabouts?" the man asked, a little weary hopefulness in his voice chasing out any idea of subtly.
The beastman considered. He'd been told to answer questions at his discretion. He also noted the use of the plural pronoun with particular interest.
"On a mission," he said, the tone one of a military officer giving a final answer. However he followed it with a somewhat offhanded, "I'd not expect you to get much in the way of current news in this place. I imagine your contacts in, say Basram, are nonexistent, correct?"
The other's eyes met Jajuka's dark ones, and the faintest ghost of a smile appeared quickly, the only indication that the tall man had understood the implications of the casual comment. He shrugged. "A misfortune of the times I suppose. They are not very hospitable to such guests."
"Whereas this land is more than hospitable," Jajuka murmured. "Even to those from less friendly countries. I'd imagine there are more than a few such guests in Fanelia now."
"It's a rather impossible task, to change the habits millennium old," Dryden said. "Though I'd found that Fanelians don't seem to take such betrayals as lightly as less friendly nations, and are rather formidable when asked to defend."
The beastman inclined his head. "Something I have heard of the place. Even the bravest defenders may find it difficult to prevent an injury done by the wrong word spoken in the presence of listening ears. And it's known that your king is the country's most precious, and formidable defender."
Dryden smiled a bit at that humorlessly. "In some respects I wonder if you mistake openness for lack of caution. There may be welcome for strangers and refugees, but everyone knows everyone else. Beyond those simplest of precautions, I cannot easily see such guests without aid," the last was spoken with the barest of inflection, though still under the easy ranges of causal conversation. He knew what the other implied, but if he'd more than a warning to offer, it would be foolish to ignore.
Jajuka inclined his head in acknowledgment. "If I may take a moment further of your time, I have a question to ask. You need not answer it but it might be of personal value to me."
A single eyebrow rose, but the Regent of Fanelia nodded. "Of course, if I may be of assistance.."
Jajuka regarded the man with his one good eye, looking deeply to what he could see there. His next words were in a tone so low and calm they might have been less than the ripple across a pool, while still perfectly audible.
"Was she happy here?"
Dryden paused at that. The question was far from what he expected. For the life of him, when he'd mastered his surprise, he could overturn no reason why not to answer. "She was here but briefly but... yes, I daresay she was," he spoke with honesty, his voice low enough to carry past the walls. "May I return by asking about the nature of your interest?"
"One more question, please, and I will answer yours as I can," Jajuka said, still in that calm tone. "Would she have been accepted here?"
Dryden honestly smiled a bit at that. "You stand in a place were Draconians once flew, where people talk to dragons and Escaflowne guards the homesteads. If not here the unusual is not accepted, I honestly can't imagine where else." As an afterthought he added, "She had in that time managed to charm most of the servants and I doubt she had even personally met more than a handful. Quite a lady."
The beastman bowed his head for a moment, occupied by his thoughts. Then he looked up. "It seems I've done something for which I will be required to pay a restitution. And broken a vow I made when... she was young. That is my interest, Regent of Fanelia. One last question. Can you tell me, in honesty, that such acceptance could ever be extended not just to her, but to him? After what was done?"
The answer Jajuka had given had nearly distracted the merchant to the point where he'd almost missed the second question. /He was involved somehow. Either took her or looked aside while it was done./ The regret was not so much obvious in the beastman's tone, posture or even eye, but in the questions themselves.
The second drew him out of his musing instantly. He answered slowly, considering. "It would be, most likely, more of a struggle, but one who's outcome relied on him. Trust for the king runs strong and deep, but actions speak for themselves."
The beastman listened, and looked up sharply at the comment about trust for the king. Unwillingly, a few more words were almost forced from the beastman's muzzle, not directed to Dryden, but more as if spoken aloud to himself. "What is this bond between them?"
The merchant prince had no answer, and a feeling that it was not his place to offer one. The question itself had spurred several more within him, but none for the offering and the nature of the questions asked, had allayed his guard enough to ask them. /Fate./ he answered more to himself, his silence covered by him taking the note and feather from his person and locking them within a drawer of the desk. /Some people can't seem to help but be in the eye of that storm./
Turning the key and placing it in one of the pockets hidden in the folds of his clothing Dryden again turned back to his guest. "There is not much," he began, "But I can at least offer you a seat."
The beastman looked up from his private musings and opened his mouth to decline, when there was a quick scratching on the door which then immediately opened to admit one catgirl, bearing a covered dish that gave forth enticing smells.
"This is fresh, and this time you are going to stop and eat some of it," she announced, coming in, and then stopped on her heels, realizing a bit too late that the scholar was not alone. "Oh! Um, sorry. But he needs to eat, you understand, don't you? You can come back in half an hour..."
"Merle-chan," Dryden broke into the rapid speech of the catgirl gently, one hand motioning for a stop. "I will, but our guest, I believe, has a message of importance for you."
Merle blinked, her head moving from Dryden to the beastman and back several times, rapidly. Her eyes widened, and her hands dropped, but she caught herself before the dish had done more that dip slightly and completed her journey to place it on the desk, squarely in front of Dryden, on top of anything that was sitting there.
The beastman observed Merle's entrance and mentally nodded as she fit Van's description perfectly. How the Fanelian king had acquired a catgirl for a sister remained a mystery but it was evident that her place here was that of intimate access to the acting Regent. He waited until she turned to him, her wide eyes questioning, and yes, showing a spark of hope coupled with a smaller one of fear.
Wordlessly he took the second letter from his person and extended it to her. Her pupils expanded as she took the folded paper and did what Dryden had not, looked at the wax seal, identifying the Fanelian crest on it from intimate familiarity. Her eyes widened again at the feather and she broke the seal with trembling paws, carefully tucking the feather into her smock after taking a moment to smooth it with a fingertip.
She read the words quickly and the men could see relief and then a fresh round of worry chase each other through her expressive eyes. She scowled a moment, then sighed, and turned a gaze that shone with excess moisture on the tall stranger.
"He said you had a message to prove it's real," she cried softly.
Jajuka nodded and said, "I am to tell you that the trinket you stole from Hitomi," he pronounced the unfamiliar name oddly, "Is safe, and that he is also."
Merle turned around abruptly and rubbed her eyes with her free paw, trying hard not to cry. After a moment she turned back around and stalked up to the beastman, staring up at him from her full height.
"Is it true? He's safe?" she demanded.
The beastman looked down, at a momentary loss. Then he said, with a trace of regret, "He was when I was given the letter. And he may be still but I cannot say for certain."
Merle's fur rose just slightly but she nodded with a single fierce jerk of her head. She tuned away from the messenger and looked briefly at Dryden, her eyes brimming with hope and fear. "Eat," she said. Then she vibrated on her paws for a moment and left the room without seeming to touch the door.
As the catgirl left, the Regent had closed his eyes briefly, hardly longer than a blink, but it had seemed the temperature around him had dropped slightly. When his gaze returned to the beastman's there was just a hint of accusation for causing the girl who'd just left unnecessary pain, and his tone was cool when he spoke again. "Arrangements can be made if you need stay the night."
Jajuka bowed with natural grace. "No thank you," he replied. He turned to the door and paused, briefly. "You'd have had me lie to her? The sister of Van Fanel?" he said, with the barest curve to his muzzle.
"No," Dryden replied turning back to the desk and pushing aside the tray. "But a less rational side of me perhaps thinks there is such a thing as too much truth to be kind."
The beastman inclined his head. "Then my apologies. For what little it may be worth, they are the most formidable pair we are ever likely to see. Perhaps there is some comfort in that." With another brief bow, the tall beastman opened the door and left, closing it behind him courteously.
As the beastman left Dryden once again opened the drawer, looking over the letter once and running the feather through his fingertips. After a moment spent gathering his determination, he stood, replaced the items and went to find Allen to deliver the message, and Merle... He owed at least some comfort to her.
They reached the cover of the mountains by dusk. The passage over might have been too difficult to try had Van not known the range and passes by heart. As it was, he managed to avoid being smashed into the rock faces by the wind, and descended to the mountain's knees.
Landing the white dragon melef, he lifted his passenger out carefully and carried him into the shelter of the cave, placing him on a pile of well-tanned hides stacked there neatly when the refugees had left. Returning to Escaflowne, he transformed the machine into its walking form and brought it just inside the cave mouth and out of casual sight, something the guymelef had to kneel to do. Then he jumped out and ran to see to his companion.
Carefully, almost tenderly he checked the other boy for any sign of damage.
The touch of warm hands drew the other boy to the edge of awareness. His hand snapped out and caught Van's before he'd even begun to struggle towards awareness. Throwing off the unexpected nap, he opened his eyes, focusing eyes that seemed a touch off color, on the king.
After a moment of sleep-slowed scrutiny, Dilandau released the hand he'd captured, half closing his eyes as the tension almost completely melted out of his frame.
Van relaxed slightly, only now allowing himself to feel the edge of panic that had surged into him when Dilandau collapsed.
He watched the other boy for another moment, then got up and walked farther into the cave, and sounds of rummaging could be heard. In a moment he was back with a clay jar, its top corked and sealed with wax. He sat down beside the stack of hides and opened the jar, drinking from it briefly. Then he slid an arm under Dilandau's shoulders.
"Water," he said, offering the jar to Dilandau's lips but not shoving it there until he saw consent.
The pale boy looked at the other a long moment, before nodding. His own hand coming up, if a bit unsteadily, below Van's to tilt the jar enough for a few easy sips.
Once Dilandau had had enough, Van placed the jar on the floor and corked it one handed. He didn't seem too anxious to release the other boy and simply settled there.
Dilandau didn't move away, simply stayed where he was, staring ahead slightly, trying to understand the disjointed fragments that were the sum of the memory he held of leaving Basram. Finally, Dilandau shook his head. "Where is here?"
"We're in Fanelia, just on this side of the mountains. I can take you... back to Zaibach when you are ready," Van said quietly. "I took care not to be seen."
Dilandau nodded, unusually subdued. Usually it was not his policy to ask questions, in case the answers were those that set the world a little too off balance for easy comprehension. But that subtle difference that had lain, just under the skin since he'd woken up, seemed to have hatched, vitalized by the strange feeling he'd felt in Basram, before the world started breaking apart. It was still there, the saturation lingering, drawing his attention.
"What," he asked, voice quiet, his eyes fixed on the pendant still hanging on the outside of his armor, "Exactly happened back there?"
Van slanted a look down, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I was going to ask you that," he said. "But as to Basram.... the machine... went. It took a lot of the palace with it, though not all from what I could see. I think the bombs were destroyed. There was a..." he paused and shook his head, remembering the dragon from the sea. "Something happened, I'm not sure, but the energy was dampened before it could take.... a larger chunk of Gaea with it. I wasn't sure what else to do so I brought you here."
Dilandau sat up a bit more fully, raising a hand to rub at one temple. "Not what I remember." He shook his head, looking a little unfocused. "Probably didn't happen. Couldn't have," he muttered, almost inaudibly. "You're the only one with wings."
Van's eye darkened slightly. "No," he said. "I'm not."
The albino slid a glance at Van and shrugged. "Fine," he said, his voice a little stronger with irritability. "You're the only one I know."
Van nodded. Then by way of explanation, he said quietly, "He said to ask my mother..."
"I wouldn't trust what that one said," Dilandau responded, the implication the other had revealed in the simple statement not sinking in. "Even for one of them, he was unnatural."
"Maybe," Van said. "My mother had wings. She left... when I was small, to find Folken, and never came back. I saw her, or thought I saw her once, during the Fate Wars. When we found the remains of Atlantis."
"Wasn't female," Dilandau said, shrugging. With a small laugh he asked, "I don't suppose you found birds of fire in that cursed place?"
Van's eye's widened. "Birds... of fire?"
Dilandau nodded, not seeing the expression on the others face, or noticing the hitch in Van's voice. Instead he fingered the chain of the pendant, still softly glowing red, before slipping the gem back into concealment. He gave a lopsided grin. "Red birds and white dragons. They rather liked each other." The grin turned to a full smirk at that last statement.
Van's eyebrows shot up. He remembered Serena's words about the phoenix, and he remembered the vision that had come when he was being interrogated by Foruma. Tilting his head, he looked at Dilandau in a certain amount of confusion.
The other was no more forthcoming, swearing under his breath about a headache. The Captain unfastened his jacket and slid it off only long enough to wrap it around his shoulders, an impromptu blanket.
Van got up, and went back into the cave again. In a few moments he came back with a thick wool throw, dyed a deep midnight blue. He draped it around Dilandau's shoulders. Then he knelt behind the other boy and began to gently massage his neck and scalp.
There was a single moment where Dilandau seemed to relax further, before it was broken by a sudden glare and his hands being caught again. "Don't," he said, growling. "I'm not her." He said the last indistinctly, but the glare never softened. "I met her. She's different, but I'm not done yet." With that, he pushed Van's hands aside roughly and moved to his side, pulling the heavy blanket up to his neck.
Van stilled for a moment, listening with an odd expression on his face. Taking a deep breath, he reached out again, seeking to gather the other against him.
"I wasn't thinking of her. But I understand. You don't want me to be able to pay you back for helping me before. You can help me when you feel so inclined but it doesn't work in reverse."
Dilandau made no protest of the other's move, but whether it was borne of disinterest or the lingering exhaustion it wasn't immediately clear. His shoulders shook once in laughter. "So you want it even between us? Fine. Do whatever you want."
The words sent a shiver of some mercurial emotion through Van's body. He turned the other boy over and against him, settling him there. He looked down, studying familiar features, his own expression oddly blank. "You always think you have all the answers," he murmured indistinctly.
The other boy snorted, fixing deep, reddish purple eyes to meet cinnamon. With a quirk of the lips he said, "It's the fine art of ignoring the questions."
Van nodded once. "Ah," he said. He said nothing else but his gaze remained.
Dilandau returned the gaze a moment before he let his eyes slide shut. "Why are you bothering? I thought I knew, but I'm finding I haven't known anything. You'd told me what you wanted to about Fanelia, and you won't kill me."
"I need you," Van said softly. "I've no more place in this world without you than you have without me. And you won't kill me either."
"Not yet anyway," Dilandau confirmed. He seemed to accept Van's logic, it mirrored his own first impressions. The surreal state of mind only helped reinforce it. "Besides," he said, eyes opening to narrow slits, glancing at Van. "They weren't fighting you know. The dragon and the firebird. It's what I thought at first."
Van blinked. "Wh-what?" he said, stuttering just slightly.
"They weren't fighting," he repeated, a little irritably. "It took a second... vision.... but now I'm sure of it."
Van felt an odd flush steal through him and tried to ignore it. His eyes widened slightly in spite of him, as his own memory flickered up. He blinked again and his eyes slid away.
Dilandau's eyes narrowed, flashing with unconscious perceptiveness. He laughed, an edge of hysteria to the humor in it, as the eyes closed again. "So you've been hallucinating too. Don't tell them. The cure is worse than the disease," he said, slumping a little.
Unconsciously, Van's arms tightened in a protective impulse. Nothing made any sense at this point and he found himself simply reacting, without much idea why or what might come out of him next.
Dilandau made no move besides slow even breathing. The silence stretched for a short time, before the pale boy broke the illusion of sleep, eyes opening for a moment. The look in them was nowhere closer to lucid, but a distinct undercurrent of curiosity had widened them past the half lidded state they'd been in most of the evening.
He straightened slightly, pulling away from Van, still watching the king. In a movement that seemed too quick to come from the half-aware boy, he'd put a hand behind the Fanelian's head, fingers curling in the wild hair, and pulled him forward. Their lips met a brief moment, Dilandau's cold against Van's.
After a long moment, he released Van and leaned back, regarding the king a moment before giving him a half smile and a shrug. "Just wanted to know what she found so interesting."
He pulled the blanket again around himself and laid flat against the hides, settling deeper this time.
THE END OF PART 24!