Author's Notes: Well, since the response to "Separation" was quite good, and I've gotten more than one request for a sequel (one from a good friend of mine), here it is. If you haven't read "Separation" first, you will be just a little confused, so I recommend you do that before you read this, if you haven't already. There isn't much to say here in the author's notes, except that it's a little more than a year since "Separation" took place, and that I'm bringing Van Fanel into the story. Van has gotten Fanelia back on its feet after more than four years of hard work, and he's about to crown a queen. Now, VanxHitomi enthusiasts, let me explain. It's been between four and five years since Tenkû no Escaflowne took place, and I find it very hard to believe that Van and Hitomi would stay single for the rest of their lives solely to stay faithful to each other. I think they'd be happy that the other is getting on with their life and has found someone else to love. Besides, Hitomi has Amano-senpai. *grin* So, like it or not, Van's engaged to a girl named Nina.
Tenkû no Escaflowne and all characters herein (except Nina, who's mine, as well as a surprise character in the ending scene) belong not to me, but to various people over in Japan.
Altercation By Annie-chanCold. That was the first thing Dilandau felt. He wasn't freezing, but he was cold enough to shiver. The next thing he realized was that he was lying on a hard surface, covered by a thin blanket. A scant pillow was under his head, and he found himself thinking that whoever had made this bed might as well have just left the pillow out. He opened his eyes.
The room was dark, and he stared into space for a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust. When they did, his heart stopped.
He was in a cell. It wasn't a prison cell in the normal sense, but it was one of the dark, claustrophobic rooms he was thrown into before he was "paid a visit" by Zaibach's Sorcerers. He vaguely remembered feeling very sleepy after drinking about half a glass of vino, and realized with a sinking feeling that it had been laced with some kind of sleeping agent.
Panic bubbled up inside him, clawing its way up his throat as he got out of the bed, and he began whimpering like a terrified child. "Let me out," he whined, falling to his knees as he slid off the bed. He crawled halfway to the door, repeating the plea like a mantra. "Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out…" He stumbled to his feet and fell against the locked door, shrieking. "Let me ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut!" He pounded on the door with his bare fists, scratching at the cold, smooth metal as if to cut a hole through. He never remembered much clearly in his waking hours, except the bald terror, but his sleep was frequently plagued by vivid nightmares of his encounters with the Sorcerers. Their various tests and experiments on him were worse than anything else he could imagine, and a frenzy to escape them had suddenly caught hold of him. "Let me out! Let me out! PLEASE!"
Tears born of fear had escaped his eyes, staining his cheeks. Through blurry eyesight, he saw a shadow fall over him, making him look up. One of the tall Sorcerers was peering through a small observation slot about three-quarters up the door.
"It's awake," the Sorcerer said to more behind him. "We should get it out of there if we are to perform our test on it."
A scream tried to emerge from Dilandau's throat, but it wouldn't come. Fear choked it off, and all he could do was give a hoarse croak. He backed away from the door so quickly that he stumbled, falling backward to the floor. Desperate, he half threw himself, half crab-walked into the farthest corner from the door, curling up into the smallest ball he could, shivering. There was nothing to use in this room as a weapon, and his terror kept him from adequately fighting the Sorcerers off with his bare hands.
The door swung open, and they came in. He tried to back away further, whimpering pathetically. When the first one bent over him and grasped his left wrist, he screamed again, as if the touch burned him. He struggled madly as three or four Sorcerers laid hold him of, pulling him roughly to his feet, lifting him enough that his feet almost left the floor. He fought frantically, still screaming, as they dragged him out the door and down a short, dark hallway. At the end of the hallway was a door. He knew that that door led to a laboratory table, complete with black straps of stiff leather to keep him immobile. It looked not unlike a lethal injection table, and he dreaded that sight like no other.
They went through the door into the blue-tinted light of the lab, and his struggles intensified. He was as if possessed, and he didn't care if he hurt himself in his attempts to get away.
"No—" Dilandau began to scream, but he was cut off by a needle stabbed into the back of his neck. He bucked once, then went limp, the tension in his muscles disappearing so quickly that he felt he was floating for a half-second. A muscle relaxant had been shot into him, and though he could still move, his limbs felt very heavy.
"It gets more and more defiant every time," one Sorcerer commented.
"It's Dilandau, damn it!" Dilandau snarled, part of his fear being replaced by anger at yet again being referred to by these madmen as "it". "At least remember my name!"
"We remember your name," another Sorcerer said. "Your ID number and health record is more important to us, though."
Dilandau hadn't a chance to respond before he was hauled up and laid down none too gently onto the lab table. His head spun momentarily from its impact with the metal, and by the time it cleared, the Sorcerers had finished applying the leather straps to his wrists and ankles. He struggled against his bonds for a moment, then collapsed back down with a moan.
"What are you going to do?" Dilandau asked, sounding very tired. He seemed to have resigned himself, a rare happening, as if realizing there was no hope of escape.
"A simple experiment," a Sorcerer said. "We want to see your reaction to a newly developed substance." As this was said, another Sorcerer walked into Dilandau's field of vision with a syringe. The chamber of the syringe was normal-sized, but the needle was freakishly long. A third Sorcerer opened his shirt and began applying a cotton ball soaked with disinfectant to the center-left of his chest. He felt sick as he realized the significance. They were going to shoot whatever it was straight into his heart.
"W-what?!" Dilandau stammered, feeling the panic return. "Why?!" He began struggling again, but the straps were aided in holding him down by several pairs of hands.
"We want to see what this substance would do when injected into one who had been subjected to a Fate Alteration Experiment."
" 'F-Fate Alteration Experiment'…?!" Dilandau repeated, thoroughly confused. "What the hell are you talking about?!" Of all the experiments performed on him, he sure as hell hadn't heard of one called that.
Before he got an answer, the many hands that gripped him tightened, and the Sorcerer with the syringe moved in. He threw his head back, whining piteously as the thing was slowly stabbed into his flesh. He sobbed once as he felt it pierce his heart, tears once again spilling over. His body had been invaded and violated many times over with the countless substances that had been injected into his bloodstream, slapped onto his skin to be absorbed, and/or force-fed to him. But, never…never…had something been injected directly into his heart, the very core of his physical being. He felt that the only thing worse than this would be if he were raped.
The needle was withdrawn; the hands clamped onto him loosened. The Sorcerers stepped back, forming a circle around him with about a five-foot radius, Dilandau at its center. He lay there limply, trembling from the sharp ache that had sprung up in his chest. It spread throughout his heart, then began moving toward his lungs, going much slower than the blood. He could actually feel its progress, feel the pain spreading outward.
It reached his lungs and spread throughout the capillaries.
It burned.
A scream exploded from his throat, the sharp ache having turned into a stabbing agony that passed beyond any pain he had felt before. The soft tissue of the lungs was much more sensitive than the strong, muscular tissue of the heart and arteries. His entire body heaved up against his restraints, and he felt his bones creak as he fought against the straps.
He thrashed insanely, his screaming barely stopping between breaths. He felt one arm break, then the other, then a leg, then the other leg as he struggled against the straps, but he barely noticed. The pain in his chest was so great, so terrible, that broken bones paled in comparison. His screaming suddenly stopped with a gurgle, and he coughed once violently, reflexively turning his head to the side. A red river erupted from his half-open lips. The capillaries in his lungs had burst, filling them with blood he writhed it was torture oh it hurt it hurt he was burning he was drowning he was dying oh every god in Heaven please have mercy…
Blackness.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Dilandau awoke from the dream in a cold sweat, a sharp cry coming from his throat. He lay stiffly for a few moments, his eyes darting around the room, then sat up quickly. The sweat was drying, the coldness disappearing, replaced by the warmth of the inside of the room. It was in the middle of summer, and the hotness of the day translated into warm nights. Most of the year, since Allen was one of Queen Millerna's—she had been crowned at the beginning of spring upon the death of her father—bodyguards, and Celena was one of her ladies-in-waiting, the Schezar siblings lived at the Asturian palace. However, during the summer, they lived at the old Schezar Estate. Dilandau went along, of course, so Allen could "keep an eye on him".
He looked around the room, breathing heavily. He was eternally grateful that Celena had managed to convince Allen a few months ago to forego placing guards in Dilandau's room, so he had some privacy. He used to have to hide under the covers and bite the blankets to keep quiet after a nightmare like that, but now, he had the freedom to cry openly. Hot tears flowed down his cheeks, dripping to the bedspread.
He remembered that time. He had been a few months short of his fifteenth birthday, and he had almost died. He had spent weeks in the hospital recovering from the internal damage, as well as four broken limbs. He had been thankful to his doctors that they refused to let the Sorcerers anywhere near him, for they were the cause of his near-death. However, once he was released, the doctors could do nothing to stop the numerous tests and experiments that were done on him.
He sat there for several minutes, crying quietly. He was afraid of no one, of nothing, but the Sorcerers. They had seen him as nothing but a guinea pig, and what they had put him through was excruciatingly painful more often than anything else. And, if it didn't hurt, it caused him nightmarish hallucinations, trapping him in a world where his own mind was the enemy. There was only one Sorcerer that he knew of that refused to take part in the experiments on Dilandau, claiming they disgusted him to no end. That Sorcerer was Folken Fanel, the late elder brother to Fanelia's King Van. Dilandau was grateful to him for that, however much he disliked him otherwise.
After several minutes, his tears slowed down, and eventually stopped. He looked toward his door. Celena's room was down the hallway and around a bend, and he had the sudden, childish urge to go to her. He shook his head. He was a grown man, and an action such as that would make him seem silly. Besides, Allen still posted guards outside his door, and they'd be very suspicious if Dilandau wanted to go to Celena's room in the middle of the night. That wouldn't look right at all, and it'd only bring Allen down on his head.
He lay back down, staring at the ceiling, letting himself calm down. In a few minutes, his eyes drifted shut, and he felt himself slipping back into sleep…
…and he was promptly woken up again by a knock on the door.
His eyes popped open, and he was surprised to see sunlight streaming through the glass doors that led to a small balcony. Time passes so quickly when you're asleep…
He sat up, but before he could get out of bed, the door opened tentatively, and Celena peeked in. "Dilandau…?" she said. "Love? Are you feeling all right? You're usually up quite a while ago."
Dilandau nodded his head and spoke softly. "Yeah…I'm fine…"
She walked over to the bed and sat down, reaching over and taking his chin in her hand, turning his head to look at her.
Dilandau looked down at her, a question in his eyes.
"You look like you had a bad night," she said, sympathy in her voice. "Did you sleep well?"
"I…I had a nightmare," he murmured, turning his eyes away. "It woke me up in the middle of the night." He took a shaky breath. "It was…it was horrible…"
She scooted over to sit close to him, resting her head on his shoulder, her arms around him, offering comfort. One arm curled around her, and he hugged her to him, saying nothing. He didn't have to. A normal bad dream never bothered him once he woke, but a dream of…those times…cut deep into his soul, and though he was getting better at recovering from them, they still scared him beyond belief. He wanted to forget those memories, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't pull it off. Celena couldn't remember much, mostly vague memories of terror and pain that had crossed the boundary between her and Dilandau, and she had no emotional attachment to them. Dilandau, though, was scarred internally by the experiences, perhaps forever.
"I should go," Celena said at length, "so you can get up and get dressed. I'll see you in a while, Love." She placed a gentle kiss on his lips, then got off the bed and exited the room, shutting the door behind her.
He touched his lips briefly, remembering the warmth of her mouth against his, then got out of bed. He shoved the memories to the back of his mind. Can't think about that right now, he scolded himself. Can't let the past hold me down…
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A few days later…
Allen sat at his desk, a book lying open in front of him, forgotten. He had just staved off a headache after a several hours of discomfort, but he still felt out of sorts. He seemed content to just stare into space for the time being.
After a while of gazing at the paint on the wall in front of him, he finally rubbed at his eyes and stood up, stretching. He had brought in a glass of ice water to help fight the headache, but the ice cubes had melted, leaving it a plain glass of water. It was still relatively cold, though, and he picked it up and took a drink, hoping the water would wash away the lingering spacey feeling.
His sister's knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," he said, setting the water down.
The door opened, and in walked Celena. "Good morning, Allen," she said with a smile, shutting the door behind her.
"Good morning, Celena," he answered, returning her smile. "I'm sorry I've been holed up here all morning. I haven't been feeling well."
"Oh, that's all right," she said. "I came here because I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Sit down, then," he said, offering the chair he had just vacated. "You can talk to me about anything you want."
"Thank you," she said, and sat down. He thought he noticed a faint uneasiness in her eyes. She didn't speak right away, but gazed out the window, indicating that he thought right.
"Celena," he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. "If you're uncomfortable, we can talk some other time."
"No," she said. "I've put this off for a while already." She took a deep breath, and Allen picked up the glass again. "I wanted to talk to you about…marriage to Dilandau."
Allen choked. She had said that just as he took a drink, and the glass slipped in his hand. He barely kept it from falling, and set it back on its coaster. He coughed, cleared his throat, and looked at his sister, who was looking back at him in surprise. "He hasn't asked you to marry him, has he…?" Allen asked, coughing again.
"No," Celena answered, to Allen's great relief. "But," she continued, "if he ever does…I know you don't like him, so I wanted to talk to you about it beforehand…"
Allen leaned against the desk, one hand shading his eyes. He ran his hand through his hair and walked toward the middle of the room, his back to her. After a while, he spoke. "No."
"What…?" Celena asked.
"I said no," Allen replied, turning around to look at her. "I don't want you marrying him."
"But…but…" Celena stammered, looking lost. "But…you gave our courtship your blessing!"
"That's different!" Allen said, walking over and standing in front of her. "That's completely different. It was obvious that I couldn't keep you two apart, and it's perfectly common for a young lady such as yourself to have suitors, but marriage…marriage would mean taking your relationship to a whole other level!" He clenched his fists, his eyes traveling over to the window. "When I think of him touching you, taking you, making you bear his children…it gives me the chills…"
"Allen!" Celena cried, aghast. That sort of thing was really none of his business…
"He's not good enough for you!" Allen growled.
"I'll be the judge of that!" Celena countered, gripping the arms of the chair and leaning forward, angry.
"You are not marrying him, and that is final!" Allen roared, hitting his fist on the desk to punctuate himself.
"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DECIDE WHO I CAN AND CAN'T MARRY!" Celena shrieked, jumping up and screaming in Allen's face, making him step back.
"Celena!" Allen gasped, surprised at his sister's temper.
"How…how dare you…?" she hissed. "You…you…hypocrite!"
"Hypocrite…?" Allen's eyebrows drew downward.
Celena clenched her teeth. "You yourself have romanced many women, at least two of which you had no right to even consider courting! Heaven knows how many I don't know about that you've helped cheat on their men! You've even bedded at least one of them, and there's a child to prove it! Your excuse is that you love them! Now, you have the gall to say I can't marry a man that I love, even though there is nothing forbidding our union, unlike your relationships with Millerna and Marlene!"
"Millerna…" Allen choked. "Marlene…how did you—"
"Word gets out, Allen," Celena interrupted. "You'd have to be stupid to think something that big wouldn't get out sooner or later!" She pointed an accusing finger at Allen. "I'll bet you're still planning on moving in on the queen! Dryden may have annulled their marriage, but they are still formally engaged until one or both of them break it off for good! You have no right to Millerna, and yet you still act as if she's fair game, using love as an excuse!" Angry tears were brimming in her eyes. "I've found a man that I love, and he loves me, and there is nothing between us being together, and you…and you…!" She dropped back into the chair, crying, hiding her face in her hands. "After what you've done…you have no right…!"
"Celena…" Allen whispered, moving to comfort her. He placed a gentle hand on her bowed shoulder…
Celena leaped up from the chair and struck him across the face so hard, he staggered backwards. The door slammed shut as he regained his balance, and he could hear her crying down the hallway as she retreated. He sat down at his desk again, his elbows propped on the surface, and dropped his head into his hands, his fingers fisting in his long blond hair. His headache had quickly returned, and this time, it was a full-blown migraine.
A few minutes later, someone knocked at the door, but Allen made no response. After a minute, the doorknob turned quietly, and the door opened. It was Gadeth.
"Commander…?" he asked. "Your sister's just gone running down the hallway, crying. I tried to see what was wrong, but she wouldn't talk to me. All she said was that you're a…well…she used rather, ah, unladylike words…" He noticed Allen's shoulders were trembling. "Is there something I can help with…?"
Allen drew in a breath, his tone of voice indicating he himself was crying as well. "I think I've lost my little sister…" he rasped.
"Uh…oh," his second replied. That wasn't really what he was expecting.
"Please," Allen said through his tears. "I want to be left alone for a while."
Gadeth made no response, but he backed away a few steps, then turned and went to the door. He looked back at his ailing commander for a moment, then slipped out and shut the door.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Celena found herself on the roof. Part of it was flat and accessible from the top floor as a kind of stargazing deck. She had run from Allen's room with no particular direction, but when she found herself here on the roof, she was glad she came here. Dilandau was standing in one of the far corners, leaning on the guardrail. He was watching some trees sway in the wind, looking quite bored. When he heard her crying, he turned around, the bored look in his eyes quickly turning to one of concern.
"Celena…?" he asked, running up to her as she ran toward him. "What's wrong?"
She collapsed against him, throwing her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. Startled, he returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her and gently lowering them both so they were sitting down. He rocked her gently, trying to calm her, holding her firmly against his chest.
"Shhh…" he soothed. "It's all right…I'm here…tell me what happened, Love…"
Haltingly, through her tears, she told him what had recently befallen in her brother's bedroom, and he felt his eyebrows draw down and his eyes narrow.
"Don't listen to him," he said when she finished. "It doesn't matter what he says. He can't keep us apart. If we want to marry, we don't need his permission to do so." He tilted her face up so their eyes met. "You were right, Celena. I do want to marry you. In fact, I'm asking you right now. Will you marry me?"
"Y-yes," Celena answered immediately, and closed her eyes as her lips were taken by his, feeling the caress of his mouth on hers, delighting in the shiver that passed through her at the contact. They parted, and she nestled down against him, her head tucked against his chest. Soon, his gentle rocking motion, his hand stroking her hair, and the warm summer sunshine lulled her into sleep. He simply held her, content to stay like this, and soon dropped off into a light doze.
He jolted fully awake when he heard the trapdoor that led up to the roof open. His jaw tightened when he saw it was none other than Allen Schezar.
Allen caught sight of them. He looked unhappy that Dilandau was there, but didn't say anything. He walked quietly over, knelt down, and reached out toward Celena, as if to touch her hair.
Dilandau's fingers clamped around Allen's wrist, keeping him from touching her. He looked Allen in the eyes. "We have decided to marry, and there is nothing you can do to stop us!" he hissed.
Allen looked livid for a moment, then calmed a bit, the anger in his eyes not quite so prominent. He jerked his hand away and gripped Dilandau by the collar, fixing him with a death glare.
"If you ever hurt her," he growled, "if you ever make her cry, I swear to you, I will come down on you and gut you like the dog you are."
"I don't need to make her cry," Dilandau spat. "You do a brilliant job already." His eyes were narrow slits of red fire, and his voice was very, very bitter.
Allen looked about ready to have kittens, but he let go of Dilandau roughly and stood up. A moment later, he was gone.
Dilandau stared after him, then turned his attention back to Celena as she stirred in his arms. He tightened his hold, and she snuggled up against him, not waking. He pressed a tender kiss on her forehead, then lay his cheek against her hair, sliding once again into a catnap-like state.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
About a week later…
Dilandau wandered the halls of the Schezar Estate. Celena was taking a bath right now, so he couldn't be with her at the moment.
He sighed. He had never asked Celena to talk to Allen about such things, but she had taken the liberty of convincing her brother—no small task—to not only stop posting guards in his room as well as outside, but to let him wander around by himself without them following him. He was grateful, as he didn't have two to four people following him everywhere he went anymore. The two guards posted at his door were pretty much pointless now, and would be more useful elsewhere. Dilandau wondered if the Knight Caeli would realize that soon.
He passed the open door of a tearoom, where two maids were currently taking their lunch break. He had almost passed out of earshot of their gossiping when a name made him stop dead in his tracks.
Van Fanel.
He glanced around to see if anyone else was around. When he saw no one, he quietly snuck up to the doorway, his back pressed against the wall next to it where the two women couldn't see him. He felt a stirring deep in his soul when he heard that name.
"Yes, the young king is coming to Asturia," the older of the women said, a middle-aged matronly lady that had served the Schezar family for years. "He's been working so hard the past few years to get his kingdom recovered from that awful attack, and now that he's finally gotten it on its feet again, the queen has invited him here. It's to give a formal congratulations, but I'll bet she thinks he needs a vacation as well." She ended sounding like she had a grin on her face.
He's coming here…? Dilandau thought. He hated Van Fanel more than anyone else, and the mere mention of his name made his blood boil. Actually seeing him again may trigger one of his psychotic rages. He reached up to his face, unconsciously stroking the scar on his right cheek…
"Is he bringing his future queen?!" the other asked, giggling girlishly. She was a young woman, only a few years older than Dilandau and Celena.
"I don't know," the older maid said.
He's engaged?! Dilandau thought, a little surprised that a stripling like Van had managed to rope himself a girl.
"What is she like?" the younger maid asked. "How did they meet?"
"Well, I don't know myself," the older maid answered, "but, I hear she's a sweet young lady with a heart of gold and a spirit of iron. They met about a year ago, and I hear the young king was positively smitten with her. They're engaged to marry this winter."
"How romantic," the younger maid sighed dreamily. She struck Dilandau as some sort of twit.
"King Van is arriving here tomorrow," the older maid continued. "Master Allen and Miss Celena will leave tomorrow morning so they can greet him as he arrives at the palace. King Van and Master Allen are good friends, after all, and Miss Celena has never formally met the young king. I'm sure Master Allen would like to introduce them."
"But," the younger maid said, "what about that crazy man Master Allen has charge of…? He follows Miss Celena everywhere she goes, it seems like, and I heard that he and King Van would sooner kill each other than breathe the same air."
"Master Allen won't be taking him," the older maid answered. "It wouldn't do to have a fight. He'll have it told to Dilandau that Celena is ill and can't have visitors, so he won't try to see her and notice her absence. They will be back tomorrow evening, and Dilandau will be none the wiser."
Oh, I will, will I? Dilandau thought, his teeth clenched. Once again, Allen was making sure he "didn't get into trouble". His fingernails scratched down the rough tissue that marred his otherwise flawless features. He would burn in Hell before he let this chance at revenge slip by him.
"Did you hear," the older maid said, her tone scandalous, "that Miss Celena is engaged to that circus freak?!"
"She is?!" the younger maid exclaimed, sounding appalled. "How could Master Allen allow it—"
Dilandau didn't stick around to hear any more. He was running back in the direction of his room, a burning resolve coursing through his veins. He was going to kill Van Fanel tomorrow. He was going to exact vengeance for the disfiguration of his face and the murders of his Dragon Slayers, and oh, how sweet revenge will be…
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Allen! It's good to see you again!" Van clasped the hand of his former warmate and romantic rival warmly. After Hitomi left Gaea to return to the Mystic Moon, Van and Allen had forgiven their unspoken conflict over her. After all, Allen had realized that Van was the one for Hitomi and had stopped pursuing her, and Van himself hadn't fully realized his own feelings for the girl until late in the war, for he had thought she and Allen were an item. Not to mention that he had had more pressing matters on his mind than dawning affections for some strange girl. There wasn't much reason in holding grudges against each other.
"Good to see you again, too, my friend," Allen responded with a smile. "It's so good to hear you have gotten your kingdom back on its feet again."
"Well, I've had a lot of help the past year," Van said, half turning and taking the hand of a girl that had walked up with him and now stood a few feet behind him. He brought her up next to him, smiling. His boyish grin showed plainly that he was quite in love with the girl. "This is Nina, my future queen. She's put her heart into helping me rebuild Fanelia. Nina, this is Allen Schezar."
"Pleasure to meet you, my dear," Allen said with another smile. He bowed to her in response to her curtsey.
"Van has told me everything he knows about you," Nina said. "It's made me so eager to meet you."
Allen gave a crooked grin. "I hope everything he knows about me is more good than bad." He turned to Celena, who was standing next to him and a little behind him.
Celena smiled and greeted the two Fanelian visitors as they were all introduced to each other. She wasn't very happy on the inside, though. Allen had had Dilandau lied to, and she had gone along with it. She understood Allen's explanation that, if Dilandau knew Van Fanel was coming here to Asturia, he'd do everything he could to confront and kill the young king. One of the emotions she remembered being prevalent during the last few months of being inside Dilandau was an intense, all-consuming hatred directed at Van. Her hot-tempered sweetheart would much rather gut Van than swallow his pride and forget Van's actions during the war. Yes, Dilandau had destroyed Fanelia, but Van had hit Dilandau just as hard by killing all his Dragon Slayers. Theirs was a conflict only death could alleviate.
They were standing in the courtyard of the palace, and everyone gathered round to see Van's arrival all turned when the doors to the palace opened, and Queen Millerna emerged to greet Van and give him a proper welcome. Both Celena and Allen glanced at each other when they saw her, remembering about a week ago, when Celena had flown off the handle at Allen. Neither showed much emotion, and they both looked away and back at Millerna a second later.
Millerna reached them, smiled, and was just about to start speaking, when her eyes darted upwards and to the left to the top of the wall on the east side of the courtyard. Her eyes widened, and her right hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, my goodness…!"
All eyes followed hers. Several gasps could be heard, and Celena felt her heart skip a few beats. Beside her, Allen's hand flew to his sword, and he growled low in his throat.
Dilandau Albatou stood on top of the wall, a sword that had been hanging on the wall of the Schezar Estate's dining room clutched in his hands. He was grinning maliciously, his eyes blazing red. He looked like a demon standing there.
"You!" Van snarled, anger and hate overwhelming him. He drew his own sword. It was a largely ceremonial blade, but it was an adequate weapon. He ran halfway to the wall and stopped, dropping into a fighting stance. "Come down here, assassin!"
"Gladly," Dilandau hissed gleefully, though no one but he could hear it. He climbed down one of the pillars as easily as a squirrel down a tree, and began advancing on Van.
"Dilandau!" Allen cried, clearly furious Dilandau had come here. "What the devil do you think you are doing here?!"
Dilandau was about to reply sarcastically, but Van beat him to it, to his surprise.
"Shut up, Allen!" Van shouted back, his eyes flashing. "This is my fight! I have a score to settle with this monster!" He gripped the handle of his sword tightly, his jaw set.
"You think you can beat me, little king?" Dilandau grinned spitefully. "You think you can kill me? You expect too much of yourself, I'm sorry to say."
"I had no trouble bringing you to your knees the last time we met," Van bit back. "And, this time, Allen won't be stepping in to save you. There's no Celena in you to keep me from killing you." He smiled cruelly and pointed the tip of his sword at Dilandau's right cheek. "You couldn't even keep me from scoring a hit on your face. What makes you think you can stop me from slitting your throat where you stand?"
Dilandau flinched, stung. That was the catalyst needed. He clenched his teeth so hard, that they would have broken with any more pressure. He swung his sword up and leapt forward, bringing it around in a wide arc toward Van's midsection. Van's blade met his with a loud clang.
"Dilandau!" Celena cried. "No!"
"Van!" Nina screamed at the same time. Neither man seemed to notice. If they had, they paid no mind.
Allen put his hands on the girls' shoulders, making them look back at him. "Stay back," he warned. "Those two won't stop until one of them is dead."
Celena turned her eyes back to the two men, her expression angry. And, you'd be perfectly happy if Dilandau was the one to bite it, wouldn't you, Allen?! she thought bitterly.
"Ah!" Dilandau yelped, retreating a step and clutching his upper right arm. The first blood went to Van in this fight. He brought his sword up and deflected a downstroke meant to cleave his skull, then brought it back down and slashed sidewise, aiming to slice open Van's belly and spill his entrails. Van twisted out of the way, but not before his shirt was slashed open and a long, shallow cut opened up over his abdomen. He hissed in pain and glared daggers at Dilandau.
"How dare you fight back…?" he spat, lunging again. "How dare you assert that you deserve to live? After what you did to my kingdom?! My people?! It's a wonder Allen let you live more than a few seconds after they purged Celena of your poison."
"Because, dear little Celena would hate him if he had me executed," Dilandau smiled malevolently, feeling his blood sing through his veins as he fought with Van. His body was rejoicing in the feel of combat, long absent and deeply missed. "The sweet little thing loves me, did you know?"
"I feel sorry for her," Van said. "To be in love with a killer such as you? Her heart must be terribly misleading her."
Dilandau scowled and tried to take Van's head off, but Van dodged backward and knocked his sword away, to his annoyance.
"Why is it you insist on fighting me?" Van asked, managing to look quizzical even as he fought to keep his own life while trying to end Dilandau's. "What harm could I have done such a merciless creature such as yourself? It can't be just that scar on your face. I doubt you're that petty and vain…"
"You don't know…?" Dilandau suddenly stopped fighting and jumped backward out of Van's reach. Van was startled enough not to go after him. "You don't know?" Dilandau asked again through his teeth. He jabbed his sword at Van, his eyes narrowed. "My Dragon Slayers are all dead. Miguel's death has been avenged, but I must kill you to let the other fourteen rest in peace! Their souls will not sleep soundly until you die by my sword!"
"Dragon Slayers?" Van repeated. He seemed to think a moment, then his eyebrows furrowed. "Oh…them. They were your boys, weren't they? I'm glad I killed them. They destroyed Fanelia as much as you did, acting under your orders. They must have been nothing but blind, brainless, worthless idiots if they wasted all their loyalty one such as you. They deserved to die as they did." The look in Van's eyes was one of pure loathing.
Dilandau's pupils narrowed to mere pinpricks, and everything but Van seemed to disappear as his dropped his sword and lunged at the young king, screaming wordlessly. Before Van could bring his sword to bear, Dilandau seized the wrist of his sword arm and twisted violently, breaking the bones and making the sword clatter to the ground. Van cried out in pain and fell backwards as Dilandau's full weight hit him, tackling him to the ground.
Dilandau couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't speak in his rage. He attacked Van with no rhythm or pattern, pounding his fists over and over into his head and upper body as he straddled his waist, tearing at his clothes and skin and hair with his fingernails, and finally clamping his hands around Van's throat, slamming his head against the ground once before squeezing, squeezing, squeezing with all his strength. He was going to crush his windpipe and esophagus before asphyxiation would have a chance of setting in.
Hands seized hold of him, trying to pull him away, at least one pair attempting to pry his fingers loose from Van's neck. He cried out thinly, trying to shake off the offending hands. Slender arms wound around him, and through the haze of his madness, he thought he heard Celena's sweet voice pleading for him to let go, to come back to himself, to spare Van's life. As she, the only one left alive that he cared about, the only one left alive that cared about him, begged him to stop, all the grief, pain, and loss he had ever felt from his Slayers' deaths came rushing up at him in a single instant, overwhelming and drowning his senses. It was too much…oh, sweet gods, it was all too much…
His hands flew up to his hair and he howled, tearing at the silver-white strands until they threatened to pull out. He fell to the side, his body stiffening up, and he lay there, whimpering like a wounded dog, twitching every few seconds as he floundered in his sea of emotions.
After a few minutes of living hell, everything became blackness.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Two days later, at the Schezar Estate…
Celena sat in a chair next to Dilandau's bed, much as she had the past few days. He had fainted back at the palace after some ballistic fit directed toward Van Fanel, and they had brought him back here without delay. Allen had returned to the palace after everything had settled down, but Celena insisted on staying by Dilandau's side. He had woken up a few hours after being placed in his bed, but his awareness of things around him was so low, he could almost be called catatonic. His lucidity had improved greatly, but he still seemed very detached.
Now, he was curled up under the sheets, his back to her. She wasn't sure if his was asleep or not.
Oh, my dear, she thought sadly as she watched him. Will you ever fully recover from whatever caused you this ailment?
As if he heard her thoughts, he rolled over onto his other side, facing her. His eyes were open, and the emptiness that had resided there for the past two days was greatly reduced, much to her relief.
"Dilandau…?" she asked tentatively. "Are you all right? What happened back at the palace?"
Dilandau closed his eyes, a look of pain on his face. After a few minutes contemplating his answer, he opened his mouth and spoke. "My Slayers," he whispered. "My boys. H-he…he claimed they deserved to die, that he was glad he killed them…I just lost control…I-I wanted to rip him apart from the inside out…"
"You really loved them, didn't you?" Celena asked softly, taking his hand and squeezing gently.
"Mmhm!" Dilandau answered, sounding ready to cry. "They and Jajuka…besides you, the only ones who ever saw me as more than a lab rat or a chess pawn..."
"I'm sorry, Dilandau," Celena whispered, her heart clenching. After a few moments, she asked another question. "Why…why did you suddenly seize up like you did…?"
Dilandau didn't answer at first for a long time. Then, "I really don't know for sure…their deaths just suddenly became so immediate…it overwhelmed me…"
Celena said nothing, merely squeezing his hand again. Even after more than four years, his soul still anguished over their murders, seeing their faces in his mind as they cried out for mercy, hearing every single one of their dying screams, many of them pleading him to come to their aid. His own fear had frozen him stiff, and he had been unable to lend them any help. The guilt haunted him constantly, and was likely to do so until his dying day.
His eyes drifted open, and focused on the door beyond Celena. "He's here…" he murmured, as if to himself.
"What?" Celena asked, confused. "Who's here?"
If Dilandau was going to answer, he had no time to before the door was flung open. Celena squeaked in surprise and jumped up out of the chair, whirling around to see who it was. Van Fanel stood there, and as she registered who she was seeing, he slammed the door shut behind him, making her flinch at the loud sound. The young king looked quite worn. His right arm was in a sling bound to his chest, his neck was terribly bruised, and there were bruises and scratches all over his face, no telling how many were on his shoulders and chest. He must have been in pain from such injuries, but the fire in his eyes testified to a very healthy temper.
"I'm sorry for barging in, my lady," Van apologized with a slight bow. "But, I must insist you get out of my way."
"What do you want with him?" Celena asked, her eyes narrowing as she backed toward the bed where Dilandau lay. King or not, she owed no loyalty to Van, and he was threatening her love's life, giving her every reason in the world to be hostile toward him. "Where's Allen?"
"He's the one who directed me here," Van answered, advancing until he was halfway between the door and the bed.
I knew it, Celena thought, a strange urge to scream making itself known. He couldn't care less if Dilandau was killed!
"Are you going to get out of my way or not?" Van asked, fixing his eyes on Celena.
"You haven't answered my first question, Fanelia," she countered, her fingers itching to lay hold of him and physically throw him out the door.
Van's eyes narrowed. "What do you think?" he growled. "I want to kill the filthy lowlife."
Celena's hands clenched so tightly, she was sure her fingernails were cutting into her palms. "Get out," she said, hissing the words like an angry cat. "Get out!" She leapt forward and shoved him backwards so hard, he almost fell down. He managed to keep himself upright, and glared down at her with enough heat to melt iron.
"Don't think I won't force you to let me pass, young lady," he said softly, his voice low and dangerous.
Celena didn't budge, merely stared up at him with distain.
"Get out of my way!" Van suddenly exploded, making her step back a pace in her surprise. "I have to avenge my people!"
"You've driven him mad!" Celena shouted back. "What more do you want?!"
"He was already mad," Van said spitefully. "Yet another reason he should die. He's a danger to everyone around him merely by existing!"
Celena delivered a hard slap to his face, making him cry out as bruises and scratches were agitated. He glowered at her angrily, his hand up to his face.
"He was not already mad," Celena said, her tone nasty. "He was bloodthirsty and cruel, acting more on impulse than rational thought, and yes, his sanity was frayed around the edges, but it was otherwise intact. The first crack in it appeared when you killed all his Dragon Slayers before his very eyes! You may have lost your kingdom, thousands of people you'd never meet anyway, but you slaughtered without remorse the only people he loved, the only people who loved him! I'd say you two broke even with that!" She jabbed a finger into his chest, speaking through her teeth. "And now, you may have shattered his mind completely. He may never recover fully from what you've done to him two days ago! You're people were avenged long ago! Leave him be!"
Van stared down at the blonde woman, his eyes wide. He opened his mouth to respond, but could find nothing to say, so he closed it again.
"Celena," said a soft voice from the bed. Both turned and looked at the tired-looking albino, his paleness almost losing him in the white sheets. "Please, leave us alone."
"B-but…!" Celena cried.
"Please, Celena," Dilandau whispered. "I'm asking you to leave us."
Celena seemed to struggle over what to do for a few minutes, then walked around Van and to the door, gazing back at Dilandau one last time before she slipped through the door and shut it behind her.
"Come here," Dilandau told Van, rolling over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Van walked over to stand by the bedside, looking apprehensive. Dilandau turned his head a bit and looked into Van's eyes. "You've broken me," he whispered, his voice laced with soul-deep despair. "Celena's right…I may never recover fully from what happened. So…" He tilted his head back, exposing his throat. "If you want to kill me, if you want to make sure your people really are avenged, then do it. I just don't care anymore…" He closed his eyes, a single tear rolling down his pale cheek.
Van stared down at him a moment, seemingly not sure what to do. Either Celena's recent scolding had gotten through to him, or he was suddenly hesitant when presented with the opportunity to actually kill someone with his own bare hands. Dilandau waited, and stiffened up momentarily when he felt Van's good hand take hold of his throat tightly, but relaxed a second later. He opened his eyes, meeting Van's, a slight smile gracing his face.
"Tell Celena that I love her with all my heart," he said. "Please…" He closed his eyes and waited for Van to tighten his grip, strangling him, killing him.
Van's fingers flexed against Dilandau's neck, but never tightened. After several minutes of fighting with himself over what to do, he dropped Dilandau roughly, backed away a few steps from the bed, then turned and stormed out the door. Dilandau sighed and lay limply in the bed, waiting for Celena to return.
Sure enough, she burst through the door a few minutes later, looking very anxious. She ran over to the bedside and clasped his hand tightly between her own. "Oh, thank the gods you're all right!" she cried. "I was sure he was going to kill you!" She calmed down a bit, and spoke again, her voice steadier. "He told me that, as long as he never sees you again, he's happy. You are dead to him now."
Dilandau smiled a bit. "Better than you expected, ne?"
She nodded frantically, looking tearful. She had really been scared to death that Dilandau would die.
He looked at her and smiled softly. "Come here," he said, closing his fingers around her hand and tugging toward him. "Come on up here with me."
She immediately complied, climbing up beside him and slipping under the covers, her shoes having been stepped out of and now lay on the floor. He lay on his back, his arm around her, and she lay on her side beside him, her arms around his waist and her head on his shoulder. The two snuggled together. Body heat was much more comfortable than the heat caused by the summer sun. A few minutes later, both had drifted off to sleep.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A little over a year later, the Schezar Estate…
Dilandau sat cross-legged on the bed next to his wife, who was lying down. Celena lay asleep, worn out from the day's activities. The reason for her lack of energy lay nestled in Dilandau's arms.
A tiny baby dozed away the early afternoon in her father's arms, not giving the wide world a single thought, content to lay wrapped in the warm baby blankets.
Dilandau had waited for hours outside the bedroom door, anxious beyond belief for the safety of his wife and child. A midwife had come a few days earlier for when Celena went into labor, and she had shooed him out of the room, telling him it was improper for a man to witness a thing such as childbirth. Dilandau was thankful that Allen wasn't there, away on palace business in the city. He would undoubtedly have been hovering around the bedroom door as well, and their agitation would have been perfect conditions for them to start quarreling. Dilandau had already had enough on his mind, and he didn't need anything more to stress over.
Labor had started in the middle of that morning, and a message had been sent to Allen immediately. The baby had been born half an hour ago, and if Allen had left the palace without hesitation, he should be back any time.
Just as Dilandau thought this, a knock sounded at the door. It opened, and Allen Schezar entered quietly, shutting the door softly.
"Is she all right?" he asked, obviously fearful for his sister. A woman's first childbirth was almost always her most difficult, and Celena was such a delicate lady…
"She's fine," Dilandau answered, looking down to Celena. "She tired herself out, but she made it through all right. She may not be able to get out of bed for a couple days, though…"
Allen had walked over as Dilandau was speaking, and he reached down and brushed Celena's hair. His eyes traveled to the baby in Dilandau's arms, sleeping soundly. Dilandau noticed where Allen was looking, and held the girl out to him, careful not to wake her.
"Meet your new niece," he said, a small smile quirking the corners of his lips.
Allen cautiously took the baby into his arms, straightening up. "Her name?" he asked.
"Adrienne," Dilandau answered. "Celena named her just before she fell asleep."
"Adrienne…" Allen repeated softly, taking in the girl's features. Her white fuzzy hair displayed the albino gene from her father, but her pink skin was that of her mother. Her shape was much like that of Schezar babies, neither short and fat nor long and thin, but a happy medium in both dimensions. Her eyes were closed, so Allen couldn't yet tell if they were blue or red. "She's beautiful…"
Adrienne cooed and opened her eyes. Allen blinked. They were a dark purple, blending the vibrant red from Dilandau and the sky-blue from Celena. She stared up at her uncle for half a minute, then opened her mouth and started crying. It wasn't very loud, but the tiny "wah-wah" cry of newborns.
As if on cue, Celena's eyes popped open at her baby's cry. She pushed herself up and held her arms out for her daughter. Allen wordlessly passed her over. Crying babies made him slightly nervous if he was the one holding them.
"Oh, she's hungry," Celena purred as Adrienne pawed clumsily at her breast, seeking to be fed. Celena reached up and began unlacing the front of her nightgown, unmindful that Allen was standing right there.
"Uh," Allen stammered, a blush coming to his cheeks. "I'll…I'll see you all later." He exited without another word.
Dilandau whistled, impressed. "Wow," he said. "That scared him out of here faster than I ever could."
"Oh, you!" Celena giggled as Adrienne suckled. "Too bad I can't teach you to breastfeed then!"
"Nuh-uh," Dilandau said, holding his hands up and shaking his head. "The honor goes all to you."
Celena giggled again, then sighed as her husband moved closer, winding his arms around her and letting her lean against him. He rested his cheek on her blonde hair as she laid her head against his chest, cuddling up tight to him. As he looked upon his wife and daughter, he realized the first true feeling of happiness he ever had in his life. It was contentedness.
His fingers slipped under her chin, and he turned her face up to his, planting a sweet, gentle kiss on her lips. "I love you, Celena," he murmured as they parted. "Forever…with all my soul."
"Mm, Dilandau," she whispered, reaching up and stroking her daughter's father's cheek, "I love you, too."
OwariAuthor's Notes: It's funny…no matter how long I make a fic, it never seems to break the record set by "Heero, My Hero" as my longest one-shot fic. This fic is only a few kilobytes short of "Heero, My Hero", but still…I'm surprised neither this nor "A Gift of Wings" managed to overcome it. Anyway, enough prattle about a Gundam Wing fic that has nothing to do with "Altercation". Did you like this fic? I so hope you do as much as you did "Separation", if not more. *hope, hope* I tried to make my writing smoother than in "Separation". Did I succeed? Even if I didn't, I hope I didn't detract from the enjoyment anyone gets out of this fic. Please tell me what you think of it in either a review or an email to [email protected], onegai shimasu!