18-Feb-2002

Twisted Fortune - An Escaflowne Fanfiction
By Bonnejeanne and Nixers
Contact: bonnejeanne@yahoo.com and nixerchan@aol.com
Warnings: Het Lemon, Spoilers
Notes: Set a little over one year after Vision of Escaflowne's end.

Chapter Fourteen - Rites of Passage

Part 30

It was full dark by the time they came into the area of the Basram border, a clear night with quite a bit of illumination provided by the two moons and the many stars. Van remembered being fired on at the border, and circled cautiously, without crossing, peering at the landscape, estimating where they had landed previously. He hoped the Alseides would be where it had been left.

The clearing that they'd finally landed in upon their first arrival was easy enough to pick out. The landscape had burned itself into a wide shape, pluming northwards with the winds before the flames had been put out. The black scar in the middle of the greenery held no cover for concealment, and clearly visible was a red shape within. Another bulky blue-gray shape of a sentinel stood within the fringes of the singed crowns of surrounding trees.

The border was strangely quiet as they held position. Either the outpost that had been struck was still being rebuilt or there was simply no obvious effort to stop the white dragon.

Glancing down at Serena, Van muttered, "Hold on," and took Escaflowne down in a suddenly dive, spreading her wings at the last moment to land just in front of the sentry.

The gray guymelef lurked upwards, as the driver within woke with the surprise and arrival of the dragon he'd been waiting for. The melef drew up its sword, but stilled, watching the dragon for the first move.

"Van Fanel of Fanelia," A voice came, tinny from amplification. "The King, his majesty, wishes to speed your journey," The guymelef did not step back but lowered the massive sword slightly.

Van stayed on the back of the white metal dragon. "Oh?" he called. "How does he wish to do that? I am here for the guymelef you are guarding. Leave - that would speed my way."

"Very well." The voice responded after a long moment. "But I am instructed to warn you that flying further within this kingdom will be considered an act of war and dealt with appropriately. You may retrieve the machine and pass back through the boarder without dispute."

The gray guymelef placed the sword back into its holder with a great deal of noise, and began moving to the north.

"Soldier!" Van called, as loudly as possible to be heard over the noise.

The machine stopped and turned itself to face the dragon and its riders.

"Your king has something else of mine. Since I am not welcome to visit his castle to request it back, how am I to get it?"

"I will relay the request. If you could specify what this something is?"

"My sword."

The guymelef gave something of a salute and turned again.

Van watched the mecha depart, remaining where he was until it was out of weapons range. Then he looked down at Serena.

"I suppose Escaflowne might be able to carry the guymelef, for a short distance," he said thoughtfully.

She looked down at the machine where it had fallen. There were shards of a glossy, silvery metal scattered about it, but the machine itself looked intact if inert. Her eyes followed the contours of it, feeling a bit lost. There was nothing like Escaflowne's gemplate, or any obvious signs of how to even open it.

Serena glanced up at Van and nodded, the disquiet reflected in her eyes. "Outside of this country at least."

Van nodded. He lifted the "reins" of the guymelef again and she sprang into the air. Then he brought her down, wings beating hard, over the red mecha, and extended her front limbs to grasp the Alseides. He almost seemed to urge the guymelef, and its wings beat harder, slowly lifted the giant machine from the possession of the earth.

Unable to fly very high, Van gained what altitude he could and they moved slowly back, in the direction of the Zaibach border.

Serena leaned to the side as much as she dared, watching the machine below with both curiosity and a possessiveness she was beginning to understand was only an echo. It flared every time she saw the higher tips of the trees brush and crackle against the 'feet' of the red melef.

As the dragon labored, the wooded mountains slowly came into sight, the pass within them bringing gusts of winds that both hindered and helped the progress of the machines, dying out as the thick forests gave way to underbrush. The sharp formations of the mountain border gave way to the silt deposits and barren stretches of the high desert beyond.

Wind dried the perspiration on Van's body, but his breathing became labored, almost as if he were sharing the burden of the red melef. At last he brought them down, releasing the mecha with barely a jar, and then Escaflowne folded her wings and sank onto the coarse sand. Van's jump to the ground was slightly less graceful that usual, but he turned and held out a hand to help Serena.

She pulled her things from the hollow and took his hand, climbing down slowly. She glanced at Van a little uncertainly, her hand not releasing his.

He leaned back against the dragon's flank, and then smiled at her slightly. Straightening, he pulled her gently with him and walked over the to red guymelef.

She released Van and reached out with the hand, her fingertips ran across the surface of the metal. Even so long at rest, it still radiated a faint heat. She frowned slightly, walking slowly along the length of the prone machine, fingers never leaving the surface, merely following the contours.

She looked at Van apologetically. "I don't know how, I don't think."

He nodded, not seeming the slightest bit disturbed.

Serena sat down against the guymelef, feeling the comforting heat of it through the back of her shirt. One of her hands raked through her wavy hair with clear frustration. She gave a half smile, closing her eyes. "I almost expected to just know, or something to happen." She shrugged her shoulders, lids still shut.

"I don't think anything is going to happen to you that you don't allow, Serena," Van said softly. His eyes in the moon and starlight were dark with a hint of russet. "We can leave the melef here, inside Zaibach borders. I doubt anyone will disturb it. It might be best if we tried to make a small camp. I don't think we can go to the city and demand that the General leave his bed in the middle of the night."

There was a slight stiffening of the girl's frame at the suggestion of leaving the guymelef, but she merely smirked slightly at the last comment. "Oh? Why not?"

Van smiled. "Well, I suppose we could try..."

She opened one eye at that, then let it slid shut, nodding. "I guess a camp will work, sleep might help. What do we need?"

Van looked around, and then answered by going back to Escaflowne. He jumped up to her shoulder and guided the melef - she moved, it almost appeared to creep forward until she was closer to the Alseides, forming a sheltered area between the two mecha. Then he jumped down into the area. Both machines generated that slight heat and between them, the desert wind was cut and its bite softened. He went to Serena and took her hand, settled down between the two melefs.

Serena scooted over next to Van, and leaned against him, making herself comfortable and propping her head against his shoulder.

Van slid his arms around her, stroking her hair gently. "Try to rest," he said, his own voice showing a bit of weariness.

He could feel her quiet laughter more than hear it. "You can never rest when you try to. Too busy thinking about how to sleep to actually do it," she replied.

Van pulled her into his lap. "Then think about this instead," he said, and kissed her deeply and tenderly.

Her eyes closed and her hands came up and around the boy. She relaxed against him, meeting his kiss with a passion of her own.

Van relaxed little by little, some of the harsh control he'd been keeping over himself, and his body warmed against hers, quickening as the kiss extended, moving naturally from him to her and back. His hands stroked along her shoulders and back, and finally curved to slide around her rear, tightening possessively for a moment. He felt the heat of the pendant between them but paid it little attention in the rising tide of his emotions and physical reactions.

She made a muffled sound in response to his actions, breaking the kiss slowly for air. Instead of meeting his lips again, she fluttered a light kiss along the pulse of his neck, the tip of her tongue tentatively tasting the salty skin there. She nuzzled against him, one hand curling fingers into his hair. "These are better thoughts," she agreed with a smile.

He smiled back, arching his neck to expose it to her lips. One of his hands played at the waist of her pants, sliding beneath the edge of the fabric to mold to her smooth skin. He leaned up to kiss her neck, and his tongue found and teased around her earlobe, followed closely by his lips as he began to gently teethe on the flesh.

She melted into him a moment, her eyes closing. Her hands slid down his back, then up beneath his shirt, seeking the contact and reassurance of the warmth and feel of skin. Her fingers traced along his backbone as she rested, almost bonelessly in his lap.

Van murmured something inaudible against her ear, and his hand slid around her body from back to front, still moving under her clothing. The leggings were elastic enough to allow him to moved further inside, his palm moving against her lower belly as his fingers dipped between her legs, penetrating the warm fold of flesh there and stroking gently but insistently along from front to back and back to front. Her body obligingly provided lubrication to coat his fingers, allowing them to slide easily as he explored and caressed her.

The first touch caused a tension to run through her body, eliciting a sound almost like a whimper as his hand moved. Her fingers unconsciously raked his back as her hips shifted slightly in his lap.

He made a soothing sound, nuzzling next to her ear as he continued to explore and stroke her body in that intimate place, learning from each response and refining his actions to bring her pleasure. Guided by instinct, he nudged the bud of flesh to the front with persistent strokes, and then slid his fingers back, finding and penetrating an opening that was now slippery with warm dampness. His hand moved, coaxing, thrusting gently but deeply, as something wandered through his mind and he realized where these actions had been taught to him.

Serena fell back slightly, her back against the flank of a guymelef, her breathing deep and hitched as it caught in her throat. Her hips moved without her mind's guidance, striving for some way to both end and prolong the sensations racing through her blood. Glazed eyes opened halfway as she leaned forward again, catching Van's shoulders with her own hands. Her grip was hard with a sort of desperation. "You're making me crazy," she breathed against him, shuddering against him.

Van gazed down at her, drinking the sight of her flushed face and body against his, delighted beyond words that he could cause such a response in her. His own body was aching painfully, swollen and restricted in his clothing, with her slight, warm weight resting against him. He nodded, almost laughing. "Me too," he managed. His hand seemed reluctant to stop its movements, fingers burrowing deeply as his thumb splayed up to move against the side of the now-tender bud of flesh, that seemed to almost quiver against him as her hips writhed a little.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, biting in to the muscle there as she arched her back, head throw back at the deeper movement. Her throat finally let go of the cry she'd be building there as she finally gave in to the tension that had gathered.

He held her tightly against him with one encircling arm as she shuddered, waiting until she seemed to ease before reluctantly sliding his fingers back but not totally away, resting his hand against the sensitive mound in a warm weight. He kissed her neck and then her lips tenderly, shifting just slightly to ease his own situation, though it was little enough relief. "Gods, you are beautiful," he murmured softly, not entirely conscious of the words coming from his own lips.

She smiled just a little at the words, her eyes lidded as she rested against him. Now that she could think, she couldn't understand why he'd done it, it couldn't have been as good for him. Instead of asking, she nodded slightly. "I think you underestimate your own beauty," she said, softly, the smile curing up a little wider. "Take your face for example," she began, one hand reaching up, lightly tracing the skin there. "A strong jaw." The pads of her fingers traced the bones. "High cheekbones, beautiful eyes."

She let her hand trail lower. "I really like your neck," her fingers dipped along the tendons there, tracing the dips and curves of his collarbone, "Muscled, but thin, like it was sculpted not born. Perfect."

Her hands unlaced the ties on his top and pushed it aside, her fingers brushed along the muscles and lines there, past the dusky nipples there and lower, across the defined stomach, her eyes watching his face. "I could go on all day about the rest of you," she murmured.

His expression was a touch confused, a little embarrassed, and even had a hint of shyness mixed in. He blinked, turning his face into her fingers, and leaning back a little not to obstruct, but he shook his head, letting his hair fall down to rescue him from exposure. "Serena..." he murmured, almost pleading. His hand pressed against the area between her legs and them slid up and out and he lifted it, turning away a little as if he wasn't quite sure he wanted her to see, and rubbed the musky stickiness of his fingers against his cheek. The scent and feel eased as it excited, bringing new ideas to mind for future experimentation.

She watched him with a tilt of her head. Catching his gaze evenly, she took his hand and put the same finger in her mouth, a little experimentally. She seemed to consider a moment before running her tongue along the length of the digit. Slowly she let his hand drop then caught his lips again in a kiss. Lowering her eyes, be broke it off slowly, lingeringly. "You don't like to hear what is good about you?" She smiled, a gentler expression. "You may not believe it, but there's a lot."

He groaned softly when she took his finger into her mouth, eyes closing in a reaction of almost painful excitement. He answered her kiss hungrily and looked up through his own lashes as she lifted her head, unable to answer her words with anything that would make sense. He tried anyway. Placing his hand against her stomach and moving it upwards this time, he murmured, "What is good about me.. is you." Finding a soft, firm curving contour, his fingers curved around it naturally, fingertips sliding across a quickly peaking point.

She mumbled something as she leaned into his touch again. Her own hands renewing their progress, not having as much trouble with his belt this time; she discarded it with a caress to the skin there as it fell away. "I didn't make you kind," she murmured pulling at the waistline of his breeches. "I didn't make you protective." She leaned forward again, her lips capturing his as one delicate hand slid below the fabric and curled around what she found there. Breaking the kiss, she stayed close, her nose brushing his. "I didn't make you beautiful."

Van groaned again as her fingers captured his throbbing flesh. He wanted to tell her that, yes, she *had* made him those things, if that was what she saw in him, but he was beyond coherent speech very rapidly as his body pressed up into her touch, his hips tensing. He lifted his lips to hers, taking the kiss he needed, moving his hands slowly over her body like a desperately needed benediction.

She deepened the kiss, exploring his mouth as her hands did likewise. Constricted by the confines of the fabric, she ran her fingers along the length, exploring the textures and following the veins, as if seeing for the first time with her hands. Delighting in every movement and sound, she leaned into his caresses. Her hand wrapped around him more firmly, taking the same stroking motion he'd taught to her body.

He made any number of sounds for her to delight in, most of them muffled in the kiss, his aching flesh responding to each touch of her hands, moving against her fingers with and almost eager urgency that seemed to be more of his body bypassing his conscious will. He wanted her very badly, and pulled her against him, pushing up her shirt to nuzzle her flesh, seeking easement in the taste of her.

Her breathing and pace faltered a moment before seeming to regain herself. Her face was a mask of pleasure. Her other hand reached down and pulled his face up to hers.

She looked at him, somberly thought half lidded eyes. "I don't want you to hurt anymore," she said softly. She leaned forward slightly and licked his cheek in a slow lingering fashion before drawing back. "If I could take it away like this I would," she continued, almost reverently.

He managed to smile, his cheeks deeply flushed and his hair even more mussed than usual. "Some hurting," he said, his voice a low purr, "I want. Some, I need. This... you... gods..."

His hands moved down, and he began pushing the leggings down over her hips, urging them off of her completely.

She helped him by lifting her hips before running the pad of her thumb over the very tip of his erection and removing it. Leaning against him as if he were the only thing keeping her up she worked to remove his own leggings quickly.

His gasp as she touched the extra-sensitive area was deep enough to be heard clearly over the desert breeze outside the shelter of the mechas. His eyes locked to hers as he kicked off his boots, allowing the pants to follow.

Leaning forward again, she straddled his lap, her hands cupping the side of his face as she kissed him again, her own hips rocking gently against his.

His body seemed to seek hers, moving unerringly into her, locking them together. His hands settled on her hips, holding and steadying her and he leaned back until he was lying stretched out with her above him, drinking in the view of her as his body reveled in the warm tightness around him, and his hips began moving in counterpart to hers.

She braced her palms against his chest, moving with a greater need. Her head ducked down, her eyes obscured by her bangs, her mouth open just slightly as she struggled to pull in the cool desert night air, pushing it back out with soft sounds and murmurs.

His eyes all but closed, as the friction of their bodies together drowned him in waves of pleasure. His hands kneaded her hips, his body straining to push up against her as she moved around him. The rhythm increased naturally, and he felt the beginnings of his surrender to her building inside. Crying out suddenly, his hands tightening on her flesh, he began to shudder as the flood reached its peak.

Her cry matched his as the sudden thrust and arch beneath her was enough to push her over the delicate edge again, her legs clenched around him as she matched the scratching on his back as that blissful moment gave way into the little shudders of the aftermath.

Breathing deeply, he pulled her down against him, spreading her body along his without letting them disengage. He kissed her lips, cheeks and neck, before closing his eyes in a moment of deep relaxation and peace, listening to the pulse against his cheek as if it were the music of life.

She lay against him, absolutely without tension, simply breathing. She slowly pulled off and away from him, curling up against him in the sand. Her face was the picture of lazy contentment in the afterglow, illuminated by the muted glow at her neck, the red aura slowly fading.

Van turned a little, his arms moving around her protectively, resting his cheek against her sandy curls. Just before sleep took him, he had a strange thought about waking and dreaming but it couldn't penetrate the warmth and peace, and he sank into an exhausted sleep.

She watched him a moment more before closing her eyes and letting the rhythm of his breathing lull her to sleep, as a small part of herself resolved itself for whatever her dreams would hold.

Dawn wasn't a gradual thing - the sun made it over the mountains and flooded the desert plain with light almost without warning. The change in light and temperature stirred Van from a deep sleep, and a half-remembered dream of his own, where a boy with short cut blond hair had his hand and was leading him in one direction, while a girl with sandy hair tugged at his other hand, trying to lead him in another.

An arm slid limply from his shoulder to the sand with a dull thump as he moved slightly. His companion, when he focused on her, was marked by an absolutely stillness, breathing so shallowly it hardly registered.

Feeling a sudden flash of terror, he gathered her against him, leaning down to listen for her heartbeat.

The moment that his arm enfolded her, there was an audible snap and the body against him convulsed in pain, marked by a soft strangled sound. The skin beneath his felt strange, a feeling of prickling unreality as he could feel the shift beneath the cooling flesh.

Heart beating wildly, Van watched, feeling helpless, but braced and eased the one he held as best he could manage, grabbing his own shirt from the sand to gently wipe moisture from a face that seemed to change contour as it shifted expression.

The last tremor seemed to be as intense as the first, but gave that final air of solidity. The boy in Van's arm's seemed to slump from either exhaustion or relief. Dilandau's eyes opened slowly, slightly unfocused as his hand attempted to brush aside Van's without strength.

The arms around him did not loosen. Van looked down into the other boy's face, his own expression quite open, showing an intense searching, concern, and a quiet waiting, but no fear, no grief... no regret.

"And so you're back," Van said softly.

The head rose slightly, red eyes working to focus on Van. A bit of a smirk returned. "You're taking it well," he managed, sounding a little windless.

Van smiled slightly. "You think I didn't see this coming?"

The albino shook his head. "I wouldn't know. Though I was informed my presence was required," he said, carefully expressionless at that. His eyes quickly sought out and found the massive flank of the red guymelef.

Van snorted softly. "Dissembling," he answered. "I wasn't told to detour to Basram to get this thing for *her*. Your display of innocence is wasted." Though the words might have been provoking, there was a touch of something that certainly resembled affection in it.

Dilandau snorted at that returning his eyes to look at Van, with a careless shrug. "Can't hurt to try," he glanced over himself and then Van, a single eyebrow raised as certain details of the morning he'd woken into began to sink him.

A slight, tentative smile answered the remark. As Dilandau looked himself and Van over, the brunette simply looked back blandly, loosening his arms but not lifting them away.

Dilandau returned the look with a shrug of his own, putting aside the matter as interesting but little else. He broke from the loose embrace and stood with a little effort, seeming to recover quickly and knelt by the clothes Serena had brought, forsaking the ones she had worn as not suitable. Not turning back to Van he commented as he sorted the articles, "I'm surprised. I would have thought you were doing this for her. Bringing her back to Basram doesn't seem to be the wisest choice for that goal."

Van watched the other for a moment, then got to his feet, brushing loose sand from his flanks as he shook out his own clothes. "What goal?"

The other paused in dressing looking over at Van with an incredulous expression. "I'd have thought it was rather obvious," he said, then turned back to working on the fastenings of his clothes, his eyes fixing on the sword and belt with mild confusion.

Van sighed, dressing quickly. "I've been told I can be dense," he murmured. "What goal?"

The albino didn't answer immediately, fixing his belt and straightening the uniform with a deliberate care. After being satisfied, the boy walked up to Van, his gloved hand running down the side of Van's cheek in a parody of a caress. "To get your pretty girl back. Keep you little country safe," he said, in a sharp tone before turning away just as quickly towards the red melef. "So, shall we get this over with?"

Van stayed where he was, watching the taller boy. "I told you I wouldn't run. Too bad you aren't prepared to do the same," he shrugged, then turned to Escaflowne. "Your country - you lead."

The Captain had stiffened at the words, though his expression was hidden from the king. Finally, he just shook his head with a growl audible over the winds and continued to the Alseides, easily gaining purchase and walking along the chest to crouch in front of the cockpit of the machine. With a glance at Escaflowne at the rider, his hand found a small panel and the high armor around the neck slid aside, opening.

"Near Zaibach I'll have to be cloaked," he said with a shrug. He didn't expect it to be a problem.

Van nodded, and Escaflowne leaped into the air, circling in a lazy arc.

Dilandau slid into the waiting harness, closing the cockpit behind him. His head was lowered as fluid half filled the chambers, at an odd angle from the prone guymelef. "What does he know," he said to himself, voice low from the harshness behind it. With a rough jerk at the controls, he pulled the guymelef into action, climbing back up into a standing position. Letting the liquid fill the rest of the way, he paused a moment before engaging the transformation for flight.

The red Alseides hovered a moment before skimming over the landscape, heading for the harder grounds and more distinct formations to the southwest.

THE END OF PART 30!

Twisted Fortune - Part 31

Twisted Fortune - Index