Twisted Fortune - An Escaflowne Fanfiction
By Bonnejeanne and Nixers
Contact: bonnejeanne@yahoo.com and nixerchan@aol.com
Warnings: Spoilers, (nothing else yet)
Archive: Soon to be archived at Zaibach Soldier
Notes: Set a little over one year after Vision of Escaflowne's end.
Chapter Four - Atropos to Clothos (Cont.)
Part 8
Van stood as they entered, looking somewhat less drained that before, and sporting a fresh tunic and trousers. His eyes widened at Merle's appearance and he blinked a few times. Finally he managed to say, "You look nice, Merle."
"Thank you, Van-sama," she said graciously. Van blinked again, then smiled slightly. He resumed his seat and a couple of servants began bringing the plain but tasty dishes to the table.
As Dryden took his own place, Serena fished for some polite conversation, feeling slightly out of place, an outsider amongst this tight group. Finally she smiled at the catgirl. "That's a wonderful dress. Who's your tailor?"
Merle shot a look at the young woman, examining her toilet minutely. "Meimei made it for me," she answered civilly enough. "She makes clothes for a lot of people in the castle. She could make you a dress," she said, emphasizing the last word slightly.
"My compliments to her then," Serena replied, suddenly as coolly civil. "But I fear the novelty of such frills has worn off on me. Perhaps some dress pants." She smiled reaching for a goblet that had been set in front of her to take a demure sip.
Merle wasn't the slightest bit deterred by the cool tone or polite evasion. "Why do you wear pants?" she asked bluntly, as the food was passed around.
Van's eyes flickered from one to the other but he was curious to see what Serena would answer.
"It's more comfortable," Serena said, a touch thoughtfully. "And with the winter coming, I'd think my old wardrobe would be a little ill suited to the drafts. I don't have the convenience of fur."
Merle smirked, accepting the comment at face value. "True. Okay. Why did you come with Van-sama?" she launched the next salvo. She wasn't fighting, but Dryden-sama hadn't said anything about pointed questions.
"Why not? He was going my way."
This was unsatisfying. Merle frowned, eating daintily but managing to tuck a fair amount of food away quickly. After a moment she announced, "Don't think you're the first girl Van-sama rescued. He's got a big heart. Some girls don't appreciate that."
Van shot a look at Merle but had never really worked at curbing her outbursts. He found her words a bit disturbing though and would have rather she'd not mentioned that.
Serena glanced from Merle to Van, her eyes settling where she imagined the pendant still was, hidden. "I'd imagine," she cleared her throat. "This is nice, what dish is it?"
Dryden took the moment to break into the slightly uncomfortable atmosphere that had settled. "It's a rather popular dish from the East. The cook has gone off on another of her grand experiments. Rather unpronounceable I'd say, but good nonetheless."
Van spoke quietly. "Merle... Serena helped me. I'll tell you the story later. She's very brave."
Merle blinked and looked slightly contrite, mostly to Van rather than Serena. "Oh," she said. She looked at the young woman across the table. "In that case, thank you for helping Van-sama," she said, a little formally.
Serena nodded. "No need, it was a mutual service." She turned to her meal. "It's nice to see you well though, Merle-sama."
Merle looked at Serena sharply. However the only part of the comment she answered was, "I'm not a 'sama.' Just Merle."
"I'm glad to see you feeling better, too, Merle-chan," Van said, affection coloring his tone. "I guess you weren't as sick as I thought." He held up his hand before she could answer and finished with a warm, "I'm glad."
Merle's tail swished agitatedly but she settled for a heartfelt sigh. She felt that this foray into adulthood was slowly being pulled away from her and wasn't too sure how hard she wanted to fight for it.
Dryden caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and laid a comforting hand over one of her paws discreetly. "Despite her illness, she's been a great help around," Dryden mentioned.
Merle dropped her eyes. "Oh Dryden-sama," she said softly.
"I have no doubt of it," Van said, affectionately. He looked at Dryden. "I almost wonder if I stayed away longer, how much faster you'd get things done without me."
Dryden laughed. "If you would like me to drag my feet in your absence... I've no qualms with being a little lazy if it keeps you around and Merle from climbing the walls."
Van sighed. "I'd rather stay," he said. "Pallas..." he should his head. He finished his plate and his eyes touched Serena soberly. Then he said, "Serena... Dryden and Merle both know your brother. There's nothing to be gained from pretending that this trip was expected."
Serena's eyes darted from person to person at the table, before affecting her bravado a bit. "Pallas," she continued mischievously for Van, "Is so stuck up it walks funny."
Merle blinked and then laughed. "That's right!" she agreed sagely from her previous experiences.
Dryden muffled his own laughter, a mental image springing to his mind of his own father's gait. "It all becomes clear now. Van brought home a truthsayer, not a lost cat."
Van smiled slightly, his only acknowledgment of the mirth around the table. "Or a lost dragon."
Serena paused, eyes still glittering with humor. "And we're back to dragons. I'd wonder if you were half dragon myself with the attention you give them," She tucked her napkin over her plate. Her meal was only half finished, but was hardly hungry to begin with.
Van looked at her sharply but there was a loud clatter as Merle's spoon dropped to her plate. She stood up and pointed at Serena accusingly, "How did you find out?" she demanded with a little hiss.
Dryden turned to Merle, trying to catch her eye below the table, a signal. Serena on the other hand looked at the catgirl with clear confusion. "Find out?" she turned to Van. "Don't tell me after all of this you DO have a dragon! It's rather rude to lead me on," she grinned.
Merle missed the hand-sign; she was too agitated. She looked from Serena to Van and back, trying to figure out what was going on.
Van, in turn, was looking at Serena and his expression did not match her light one. "Yes," he said in a low voice. "It *is* rude to lead you on. If you aren't doing the leading yourself..."
Serena's humor seemed to leave her as she suddenly took in the expressions around the table, from Merle's confused anger to Dryden's alarm. Finally settling onto Van's tone and the accusation buried in it, she gave a bit of a wry smirk. "I don't think any of us have been totally honest at this table, have we?"
Merle disliked that smirk intensely. "Yes, we have!" she insisted. "We're always honest! But we don't know you!"
Van looked at Merle and said, "Merle, please sit still, and hush."
She subsided quickly, feeling upset by this strange woman, and sensing that somehow she upset Van in some odd way.
"How do you think I haven't been honest?" Van asked Serena. He too was studying the smirk. It reminded him of a very familiar expression on a very similar face... perhaps even the same face.
She laced her fingers together and used that bridge to prop up her chin. She looked at Van from beneath her eyebrows and dark lashes. "Oh come now, I may be forgetful sometimes, but I've never been blind. Wouldn't you say that hiding something is dishonest?" She tilted her head to the side. "Who are you expecting to find when you stare at me? What will you do when you find it?"
Van closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them there was old, deep pain in the cinnamon depths. "You said some things were better left forgotten. I never intended to hide anything from you. I thought you were telling me you didn't want to know."
She frowned, her expression darkening a touch. "I DON'T. Why do you think I haven't pressed? I would just rather not be treated like fine china or a rabid dog. I'm neither delicate, nor am I going to bite."
"How do you know?" he said hoarsely. "How do you know you're not both? How can I treat you differently, knowing what I know?"
Serena absently picked up a dinner knife and fiddled with it nervously. "Merle asked me why I came with you. A fairer question is why did you let me? As you say, Knowing what you know?"
Van wasn't unaware of her gesture. It would have been so much easier if there were plain answers to these questions. "Because I was trained not to turn my back on an enemy," he said quietly.
"So, I've gone from one cage to another. Silly me," her tone was dark. "And here I'd been led again."
Van shoved his seat away from the table and sprang to his feet, pacing away from the table with suppressed violence. "I didn't lead you. I didn't invite you. You're here and I'm trying to make it work. What right have you to berate me when you're afraid to face yourself?"
"Whoever I was, she still terrifies you so much that you can't believe that I'm not just some devious mask," she said softly, seemingly oblivious to Dryden and Merle's eyes on her. Her entire world was focused on Van. "If you were me, would you want to face that?"
He whirled and met her eyes with a blazing look. "I didn't want to face a full-grown dragon with nothing but light armor and a sword in my hand when I was fifteen, but I did it because it had to be done." His eyes searched her almost frantically. "I... *didn't* believe in you at first... now I... almost want to..."
Serena subdued, loosing a bit of the dark edge she'd gathered in her defense. "You didn't lose yourself when you put on your armor. All you risked was your life."
He swallowed, unwillingly persuaded to empathy by her words and tone. "I'm not saying it's the same," he said, his voice dropping. "I'm saying I couldn't sleep a single night not knowing what you've turned your back on. But I accepted it. At first I thought you wanted to know - you complain so much about Allen's restrictions. *This* is what he wants to protect you from. If you're afraid of it, you should have stayed with him. I thought you..." he dropped his head. "I was wrong. And I have no right. I won't speak of it again. I won't look at you again. You..." the word was slightly choked, "You have a right to peace, if that's even possible."
She swallowed. "I don't know what I want to know. You were right. I'm too scared to face it, but too curious not to know. But you know I haven't had a real nightmare, or been sick since I left. I'm not going back, but you're also right; you didn't invite me here either. I'll leave as soon as I can."
She scooted back her chair and stood up, curtsying slightly to them as a habit. "Thank you for your hospitality," her eyes flicked toward Van, "And everything." She turned to push her chair in and leave.
Van watched her, as if transfixed. The peace that had begun edging out of his eyes at Pallas was completely gone now and his expression was haunted by pain and conflict, as if the memories swimming in them had happened the day before. "S-Serena," he whispered, his chest almost to tight to breath.
"Van?" Serena and Dryden asked, two very different tones blending together, concern and confusion mixing.
"Don't leave..." he said. "Stay... walk my city... talk to my people... do whatever you wish..."
"I don't get you," she said, frustration saturating her tone. Her hand clenched around the knife she'd forgotten was still in her hand. "One moment, you are provoking me, the next you are kind and gentle. If I didn't know better I'd think you were playing with me."
Van shook his head, almost as if trying to clear it. "No..." he said in a soft rasp. "I just... maybe, maybe we're the same, Serena... I just don't have the mercy of forgetting." He threw a quick, pleading look at Dryden, holding his hand in a gesture and then he all but ran from the room.
Serena stood, confused, in the middle of the room, looking lost and staring after the young king's path. Dryden, shaking off the slight stun that the entire drama had set him into, stood up. He approached Serena cautiously.
"I don't suppose I could persuade you to check your weapon at the door?" he asked, glancing pointedly down at the knife.
Serena stared down in shock at it, and dropped it. "I'm... sorry. I'm a little confused." She shook her head slowly. "How could we be the same?" she asked the two almost pleading. "He's nothing to be scared of."
Merle had been sitting on her chair, knees clutched to her chest and trembling slightly. She jumped up, leaving the slippers on the floor. "He's thinking about the war!" she cried, her tone both accusing and anguished. "He'd stopped for a long time! You don't know anything!" And with that she ran on bare paws down the hallway after the young king.
Dryden took a deep breath, sending his hopes after Merle, knowing she was possibly the one person who'd have a chance not only to find the young king, but to soothe him. In the meantime, he turned to Serena. "Please, stay for just a while. It means a lot to him." Dryden frowned mentally a bit at that, thinking perhaps a bit too much. "Or at least think it over tonight, things will seem better after everyone's calmed down."
Serena frowned, looking about to argue with the tall merchant before relenting, her eyes shifting towards her feet. "Sure...." she kicked the knife away from her feet, her eyes tracing the path as it skittered across the wooden floor. "How did this get so out of control so fast?"
"Damned if I know." Dryden gave her a weak grin. "I'll show you to your room."
Serena nodded a little shakily. "But can you have the tapestries removed?"
"If you desire." Dryden answered, a bit confused at the odd request, and escorted her to the guest quarters.
Van stumbled slightly, not really looking where he was going. His feet chose the path for him. When he felt the night air around him it seemed to chill rather than comfort. Finally he pushed open the door to the Sanctuary and made his way inside. The door closed behind him, swift and silent. The interior was dark, but there were always crystal lamps here, powered by energist chips, turned to low radiance but giving enough light for him to find the middle of the floor, where he dropped down, clutching his knees to his chest.
Unseeing, he stared at the mosaic beneath his feet. He didn't need to see the white-winged figure to feel its presence.
Serena's words repeated in his mind like an unending accusation.
/You didn't lose yourself when you put on your armor. All you risked was your life./
Shaking his head, he tried to clear the pictures, the memories, the sensations from his head but those words summoned them inescapably.
/You didn't lose yourself when you put on your armor.../
This first time, with the earth dragon, no...
/You didn't lose yourself when you put on your armor.../
Escaflowne...
What if he had never said those words? 'Escaflowne, give me your power...'
The Guymelef had answered him. And the world had turned cold and red. He'd cut through the Alseides as if he were mowing wheat. Screams of rage turned to wails of terror and the sounds had been all the same in his ears. Eyes fixed on the red Alseides, he could not remember how many... how many...
Again, and again he'd lost himself in that killing rage. In the Absolute Fortunate Zone he'd driven again and again for the red Oreades, spilling more blood...
/You didn't lose yourself.../
In the aftermath of that battle, the miracle of love had made everything possible. And the promise of peace had healed his soul, or so he believed. He'd released Hitomi to return to her world, her life, and given his heart and soul to rebuilding his country and mending the wounds of his people. He'd walked the deep forests seeking dragons, sometimes running, sometimes hiding, until their impassive and undeceivable eyes had disciplined him to walk away from his fear and rage.
And now it was all crumbling apart.
/Who are you expecting to find when you stare at me? What will you do when you find it?/
Was he looking for Dilandau's ruby gaze in her eyes? Or was he seeking the monster that he had once been... or were they one and the same...
Shivering, he hid his face, wondering where all the miracles had gone.
Dryden, an hour later, finally gave up his search. With an aura of almost slinking back to his room, he shed some of the heavier outer layers of his clothes. While he was concerned and the air was chillier this time of year, it was a little much in the chase. His search of usual places to find Van on what was increasing rare melancholy moods turned fruitless and none of the servants had seen the man in passing on the grounds.
Draping himself across his chair, he settled in to think. He'd never seen his friend quite so disturbed. He could only hope Merle's uncanny knack of finding her beloved friend had kicked in this time as well.
It would be hours later, well after midnight before anything disturbed Dryden's thoughts. This time the soft scratching was less tentative, somehow almost urgent.
The merchant threw off the slight daze that preluded sleep and moved quickly to the door. "Merle," he greeted her anxiously as he opened it. "Did you find him?"
The catgirl was still barefoot, and her dress was wrinkled and dust-smeared and her ears drooped along with her whiskers. Head down, she pushed against his chest, as if burrowing into it. She was trembling slightly. Managing to nod in answer, she didn't look up.
Dryden wrapped his arms around her after a moment of startled hesitancy. He smoothed the distraught catgirl's hair soothingly. "Come on in and sit down Merle."
She clung to Dryden, clearly not wanting to disengaged from his solid support. In the end he had to sit, and she curled into his lap as her tremors slowly subsided.
He fought to keep the worry and tension out of his posture. Instead, he reached behind him and drew one of his wrappings from where he'd set it on the chair by the door and wrapped it around her. A makeshift, if passable blanket, hoping that the comfortable warmth would aid in calming her nerves.
Sniffing slightly, she eventually wiped her face and took a deep breath.
"S'okay," she said softly, her voice betraying the same disturbance. "Put him to bed. 'S sleeping now. Oh Dryden-sama...."
Relief warred with curiosity. If Van was simply in his room sleeping now, it surely wouldn't have disturbed Merle so much. When she'd first come in, visions of healers and disaster had paraded through his mind. "What happened," he asked quietly.
She wiped her face again and looked up, her eyes shining. "Found him in the Sanctuary," she answered slowly. She shook her head and burrowed against his chest again. "Was talking to it... he was so upset, but he wouldn't go for a long time. Till he was too tired to talk... then I made him come in. He's sleeping... but still frowning, like it hurts..."
"Talking?" he repeating, his tone betraying more curiosity and alarm than if it were a directed question. Distracted, but gentle, his hand repeatedly smoothed the fur on the catgirl's back, trying to offer comfort.
She nodded, hiccuping slightly. "Talking... to Escaflowne!"
Dryden blinked down at her. "Lords and Ladies," he swore, barely audible under his breath. Turning to the catgirl, he managed a smile for her. "Thank you Merle-chan, but you should get some rest too. You're upset and tired," he observed, fishing out another handkerchief (he'd always a point to carry two since the catgirl had taken both ill and to shredding the ones in her more irritable moods) and wiped her face.
She submitted to the attention but clung to him even tighter. "Don't... please don't send me to my room, Dryden-sama!" she begged softly, afraid to look up at his face.
He hesitated for a moment before promising, "I won't. You can stay here. The couch isn't comfortable but it's well used," he said, trying to affect a lighter tone for her.
Merle whimpered softly and pushed her head into his chest, without answering. Her paws were tightly wound into his robe. She wanted the comfort of his warmth and solidness and she wouldn't give it up without some greater effort than a suggestion.
He didn't make another comment, reading her body language easily. Without complaint, he settled in subtly, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible. Dryden managed to free one arm long enough to take off his glasses, then wrapped his arms back around the still slightly trembling catgirl.
As she felt him settle, Merle eased further, not clutching at him quite so tightly, but slowly relaxing in his arms. She tucked her head under his chin, still breathing a bit rapidly, and closed her eyes tightly. She'd been torn, a part of her wanting to stay with Van and try to comfort him in his troubled sleep, but he was unconscious of her and she was so upset and frightened by sitting with him in the Sanctuary, his words evoking memories of her own that she'd happily abandoned, and she'd run instinctively to the asylum of Dryden-sama, knowing his strength would protect her from the phantoms of the past and the specters of the future.
Easing just a little more, a low vibration moved from her body to his. Those unfamiliar with felines might not realize that they sometimes purred when frightened or in pain, but it made no difference to the natural expression that came from her body. Softly, Merle paid wordless tribute to her protector.
"Shhh, It's all right, I'll be here in the morning," he murmured to her. "We'll get this all worked out and things will be fine again," he continued, only half listening to the reassurances he offered. Some still lucid part of his mind, that hadn't been sent reeling by the string of shocks the day had offered, mused at the strange sense of comfort that came from offering that comfort to another... just as another quailed a bit, realizing just how much people were *depending* on him.
He'd always been one to offer his aid, but to find this unfamiliar trust.... Somewhere he realized that it didn't seem to bother him as much as he had always thought it would. Not really.
There was a brief, barely to-be-felt flick against his chin as Merle licked him once. Then she settled and as the warmth between them penetrated, at last she slept.
Dryden watched her sleep, kept awake by his own thoughts. Van.... something had managed to strike him so deep that he'd go back to Escaflowne... He let himself relax a little, admitting there was nothing he could do at the moment. He let himself fall into a half-aware trance, soothed by the warmth snuggled against him and the rhythmic breathing of another person.
Serena paced the length of her room, swearing against rationality that every circuit of her pacing was shortened a step by the walls getting that much closer. She was confined by her own promise to Dryden that she would stay here, and she admitted, a touch of concern for Van. But worse than that, she was bored and she couldn't sleep.
She kicked at the two pieces of tapestry that now lay on the floor. Dryden had went through some amusing facial expressions when he'd seen it. Well, she did say that she would have them removed; she just never mentioned the reason.
Toeing the unraveling edge that marked the tear, she eyed her work with satisfaction. Earlier the white dragon had been a fascination, then an obsession..... finally a source of some overwhelming anger. Unable to stand looking at it anymore, she'd taken the heavy fabric and tore it straight down the center, ripping the dragon that had managed to get past her careful defenses of forgetfulness in half with her bare hands.
Now, looking at the halves, the dragon almost looked..... vulnerable, or different perhaps. It was just as broken as she was. She wished Dryden had taken the stupid tapestry with him. She didn't want to look at it anymore.
But.... there was nothing else to look at. The room was practically barren without it, completely boring and .... well purposeless. It was just a place to continue living. She glanced at the two halves mournfully, at least then she'd had something to think about.
Nearly flopping, she sat on the end of her low bed. A sort of internal clock estimated that it was probably midnight, if not a little after. She wondered and worried about her host... no she could almost maybe call him a friend now. He'd left with such distress.
One moment, she was defending herself, the next it looked like it was she who was beating him down. She frowned. Perhaps she was. She was never one to forgo offense for defense, when Allen yelled at her, she yelled back, using every trick she knew, every barb that struck true to set him off balance.
She sighed. She hadn't meant to do that to Van. For all his cautious prodding, he was so.... well... considerate of her. Her mind raced back to how gently he picked her up, thinking she was asleep. How he never really let her go, and held her hand when he didn't have to. Her brother only seemed to touch her when he in particular wanted something. Either from her, or to reassure himself.
"When did I start liking him?" she asked the ceiling, nearly growling with frustration with herself. Moreover, why? Allen had never said as much, but had hinted that she and Van were enemies. And Van himself said that he was.... what was it... was taught never to turn his back on his enemies? That sounded right...
So why didn't she hate him? She glanced at the tapestry. Maybe it was just that life wasn't nearly..... livable without it?
Almost numbly, Serena slipped off the edge of the bed to kneel in front of the two pieces of shorn cloth. The workmanship was exquisite. A shame her fit had gotten the better of her. Without much care or thought to what she was doing, Serena spent the rest of the night tying the threads of the tapestry back together.
TBC