Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ The D files: Dryden's Story ❯ Age 15: Marlene part 1 ( Chapter 7 )

Oy, has it been a year already!? Sorry for the delay!

Posted:January 7, 2006

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It's not my fault.

These words ran over and over in my mind like rabbits on a sugar high as I contemplated the floorboards above my head. Just beyond where I lay, footsteps beat a rapid staccato on the stone garden path. This was Eries' third circuit about the garden, and she was still on the rampage. However, it was just a matter of waiting for her to go away since there was no way she’d guess to look here. In fact, I had impressed myself by managing to squeeze my long frame into such a tight hiding place.

I sighed, flipping onto my stomach. Might as well get comfortable. Cramped as it was beneath the garden gazebo, it was much better than the alternative.

It's not my fault. And it really wasn't, when you looked about it logically and systematically. For starters, it was not as if I was the one who had botched things up with Marlene's wedding present. When the First Princess' engagement to the Duke of Freid was announced a scant two weeks ago, the entire court, including Father, had gone into a frenzy. As with all special occasions, the royal wedding was yet another excuse to outdo one another, and everything, from flowery congratulatory toasts to the type of hat you sported at the ceremony, was grounds for competition. Marlene's present was something I expected Father to delegate to Mother. However, Father deemed it as an object of weighty enough importance to require his own personal attention.

Things started off well enough. As he was among the first to catch wind of the impending wedding, he was able to secure the services of the most talented jeweler in Palas, a master craftsman who had recently immigrated from Chingre. The man was to make two sets of fine gem studded jewelry for the wedding couple. An ordinary jeweler would have required nearly a month to create what Father demanded. However, this jeweler lived up his reputation, delivering the stunning sets to our door three days before the wedding -- plenty of time for Father to deliver the gifts early and possibly attain some serious bragging rights should the princess elect to sport them on her wedding day.

There was just one problem.

Father wanted the jewelry personalized with the names of the princess and duke. As the man was accustomed only with the names of the Chingrean aristocracy, he asked Father to write down the unfamiliar words on the purchase order form. Unfortunately, Father had been a little sloppy with the ink, and the man had taken an ink blot on the page as an extra letter. So while there was nothing wrong with the jewelry in and of themselves and the engraved letters were flawless and quite charming, I doubted that Marlene was changing her name any time soon to “Marleneoerisha Aston.”

From the way Father screamed I thought he was going to have a stroke. The jeweler was hastened back to his workshop amid a cloud of curses and threats along with Father's top rat-man assistant and a few geckos to make sure he finished on time and didn't make any more mistakes. To everyone's relief, the man finished this morning, the day before Marlene's departure. While the Chingrean was more than adequately compensated for his efforts, I doubted the harried man was over eager for more of Father's business anytime soon.

Now, Father had made a big deal about how he was going to give the princess her present as he was head of our family (and wanted his face associated with the extravagant gift). However, that was when the gift was scheduled to be completed on time and before he split the pants of his new suit wide open this morning. As he harried our beleaguered seamstress to have his clothes ready for Marlene's farewell banquet tonight, he was quite open to other options. Mother had already overbooked herself for a number of high profile public events today so he found himself turning to me.

I was not in the mood to be delivery boy. In fact, I did not want to be anywhere near the palace. The marketplace was buzzing with outsiders in town for the celebration, and I wanted to lose myself in those crowds instead of getting caught up in a swirl of wedding fripperies for a girl who barely tolerated me. But father commanded and so, against my will, I went.

The scene at the palace redefined the limits of chaos, and the royal family's residence was no exception. The flow of crates and boxes containing Marlene's considerable earthly possessions going out the door was substantially hampered by an erratic but equally endless flow of last-minute wedding gift deliveries trying to make their way into the manse. Complicating the situation was a fully loaded cart that had overturned on the brick driveway. The strewn contents had turned the place into an obstacle course. At least, I knew where to go, and what I was carrying was compact. I felt sorry for a troop of bewildered looking chinchilla-men, probably some rich merchant's flunkies, trying to maneuver several immense jars of exclusive J. Bunyard vintage through the press.

As wriggled and squeezed my way through, I kept on the lookout for someone to receive my delivery. Some discouraged porters had simply left their brightly wrapped deliveries on the lawn and planter beds surrounding the king's residence. While it was attempting to do likewise, what I carried literally was worth a prince's ransom. Father had very specifically instructed (ordered) me to leave the jewels with either a member of the royal family, one of their governesses, or the head butler. I immediately eliminated Norwey as an option, as he was frantically redirecting traffic and performing damage control at the scene of the unfortunate cart.

Spotting a handmaid who had paused to tighten the laces on her shoe, I asked her where I might find the princesses or their governesses. She informed me that Princess Marlene had already withdrawn to her rooms to prepare for tonight's banquet and that the royal governesses were assisting her. However, Princess Eries was inventorying wedding gifts in the Tulip Room, one of the larger drawing rooms. "But, I would have a care if I was you, Master Dryden," she added in a hushed voice. "The Lady's in a mood today."

Eries? In a mood? Marlene was the moody one, but Eries? Well, it wasn't impossible, but she never let her temper go so much so that the servants would notice. This I had to see.

I immediately retracted that wish the instant I entered the Tulip Room. The atmosphere was so frosty, it was like stepping into an icehouse. While the other areas of the palace practically roared with the noise of people speaking all at once, the Tulip Room was eerily quiet. Several nervous looking women milled about like sheep. I recognized them as members of Marlene's court. The ladies in waiting were trying to look busy while attempting to ignore the source of the tension in the room, namely an exchange between one irate princess and one rather petrified looking attendant.

Eries was not yelling. However, she was demonstrating that volume was not a requisite component of conveying deadly intent. I mean, I’ve seen her mad before (many, many, many times, actually) but this was on a totally different scale. It was comparable to the difference between an armed footsoldier and a fully loaded floating fortress.

I was floored. I knew that Eries had an exceedingly low opinion of her sister's attendants, especially since their incompetence usually resulted in more work for Eries, but she restrained herself from making disparaging comments. In public anyway. However, something had burst that dam wide open. Her customary tact was gone. Eries was really letting her have it. While it was beneath her to stoop to the arena of vulgar language, if words could wound, that woman would have been a bloody pulp by now.

I quickly gathered that there was a direct connection between the overturned cart in the driveway, the woman before her, and Princess Millerna, who hovered nearby with an expression somewhere in between annoyance and guilt on her face.

"You're dismissed." That last word hissed through the room like a blade.

The distraught woman made a feeble attempt at a curtsy and fled, almost crashing into me in her haste to leave. Eries' icy blue eyes followed her retreat to alight on me. "Oh hello, Dryden. What can I do for you?"

Wow. Scary. She had gone from snarling to cloying as quickly as if someone had thrown a switch. However, there was in an unnatural brightness in her eyes, one I associated with the soon-to-be-unhinged, and it told me louder than words to STAY AWAY.

“Ah... you ladies seem to be really busy right now so I'll just come back later --"

"No, no trouble at all. You're here to deliver something for Marlene, right?" She stepped forward, effectively cutting off my escape. There was nothing to do but to hand over the goods, which I did with a fervent prayer that the exchange would be quick and easy and she wouldn't get all crazy on me as well.

She opened the velvet bag and gave the contents a cursory glance. "Quintara," she barked.

A petite, dark-haired lady in waiting with a ledger scurried forward. "Yes, Princess Eries," she squeaked.

"Two sets of jewelry from Meiden Fassa's house. Gold."

"Yes, my Lady." The attendant hastily scribbled down the entry into her book as Eries tossed the jewelry like an afterthought onto a table cluttered with an assortment of other gifts.

So much for Father's bid to impress the Astons. Not that I cared. I just wanted to get out of there, pronto.

Unfortunately, before I could excuse myself, Eries spoke, her words coming out in a rush. "Dryden, since you're here, would you mind doing me a little favor? Be a dear, and keep an eye on Millerna for me. I've had a little trouble with her last chaperone. Just for a couple hours until the banquet starts, I'm sure you won't mind. And have a care with her hair and clothes, won't you?"

The look of dismay on Millerna's face mirrored my own sentiments exactly. We both protested at once.

"Sister, I --"

"Listen, you can't be --"

The glare she leveled at us could have flattened a tower. All objections were instantly snuffed.

"Sure. No problem," I amended. "We'll see you in a little bit.C'mon, squirt." I grabbed Millerna's hand, and we beat a hasty retreat out the door.

"And please stay inside the house, you two," she called, waving after us with a sweet smile.

Eries had been acting a bit high strung at lessons last week, but we had attributed that to her sister's upcoming wedding and the summer heat. But her behavior just then was -- it was inexplicable. I wonder if perhaps she had fallen victim to the "cycles" I sometimes heard my male cousins and uncles complaining about. From what I could gather from their mutterings, females were subject to some sort of hormonal imbalance that caused their moods to sour inexplicably on a monthly basis. I could only guess that my level-headed friend had been overcome by that phenomena.

I dragged Millerna into the sea of humanity crowding the halls. Eries was forever complaining about how Millerna would wander off to people watch so I figured that the best way to keep Millerna occupied for two hours was to find a spot in one of the upper balconies and stay there. Simple and effective -- right?

Unfortunately, getting to the upper stories of the palace proved to be easier said than done. As we waded into the foyer, a contingent of cooks brandishing large metal tubs with steaming contents came barreling through from the kitchen.

"Make way! Make way!"

"Hot stuff coming through!"

"Have a care!"

One of them passed uncomfortably close with his scalding hot cauldron. I backed up abruptly to avoid getting burned and lost my grip on Millerna's grubby little hand. I did not panic though. As congested as it was, she could not get far very fast.

As soon as the chef stampede had passed, I scanned the area for her. Fortunately, I was tall, and Millerna and her flashy dress stood out like a gleaming blonde and pink beacon in the crowd. I pinpointed her almost instantly at a window seat down the hall.

Unfortunately, that scant amount of time was all she needed to get into trouble.

"C'mon, Millerna. Let's go upstairs. It's way too -- what have you done to your hair!" My voice cracked embarrassingly as I realized her velvet ribbon had come undone, and all her carefully arranged curls had come cascading down.

"Huh? What?" Millerna looked up at me innocently. It was then that I noticed she was covered with tiny, mewling felines. She had two in her lap, one in her hands, and another on her shoulder, who was swatting at Millerna 's loosened locks.

"What are you doing with those cats!?" I shrieked loudly enough to turn more than a few heads.

Millerna looked at me as if I were retarded. "This is Rad and her kittens." Rad, situated in a large open wicker basket held by an indulgent-looking elderly attendant seated beside Millerna, meowed.

"Sister's taking them with her to Freid," she said with a hint of sorrow in her voice. "So I have to say goodbye, don't I, precious?" She held the long-haired kitten in her hands close to nuzzle it. Meanwhile, the kitten on her shoulder turned its attentions the trim on Millerna's sleeve while its siblings clawed at her bodice in an effort to get her attention.

<"... have a care with her hair and clothes...">

Five minutes, and I had already failed my assignment.

"Okay, g'bye then!"

"Dryden!" But I turned a deaf ear to her protests as I scooped up all the little hairballs and deposited them with their mother into the startled matron's basket. "Have a nice life in Freid!" I said, picking up an indignant Millerna around the middle and retreating down the hallway.

I kicked open the door to the first room I came to and ducked inside, slamming the door behind me. I plunked Millerna down and held her tight by the shoulders as I did a quick once over of her clothes. I prayed that they were still presentable and had not been mauled beyond repair.

"Dryden, what is your problem?!" Her temper flamed as bright as her clothes.

I halted in my inspection to gape at her. "What is MY problem? Hello? What's YOUR problem? Or have you already forgotten that your sister is going to KILL us if I don't bring you back in pristine condition?"

"I'm fine."

"You're covered in five shades of cat hair, and your hair is ruined. I'd hardly call that fine."

"It's Fanelian silk," she said haughtily. "It’ll brush right off." She swiped at her skirt to prove her point. Her efforts were surprisingly successful.

"Yeah, well, what about your hair?"

"I'll be fine," she snapped, exasperated. "I'm not a baby. I can fix my own hair." Having made that declaration, she marched up to a mirror hanging on the wall to prove herself right.

Something clicked in my mind. That mirror... that wall... those windows... My gut froze.

Indigo's studio. I had been so busy fighting with Millerna that I had walked in here without realizing it. Or maybe, my subconscious had unwittingly led me to this once familiar place.

The room looked untouched. Save for a layer of dust blanketing the room, everything was as she had left it, as if anticipating her return.

I had thought I was over it. I had grieved for her, mourned with my friends and in solitude, and then went on with my life. It was what she had done when her loved ones had passed on, and it was what I knew she wanted us to do. And I thought that I had shed so many tears already that I couldn't hurt anymore.

I guess I was wrong.

Something inside ached. It was like a trick joint that echoed with the pain of an old injury when the weather turned. This room, which had once been so full of color, activity, and ideas, was bereft without her. The place seemed to cry out for her return, for her to bring it back to life again, and my heart resonated with that same yearning.

Those feelings swelled, and I clamped them down, forcing myself numb lest I lose control.

"Dryden!" I blinked. Millerna was glaring at me with a petulant look on her face. From her tone, I could tell that she had been saying my name repeatedly in order to get my attention.

"What?" I said, quickly forcing myself back to the present.

She pointed at her head. Oh yes, her hair. To my surprise, she had done an admirable job of retying the fussy pink bow on her hair. Her hairdo was nowhere as near as artfully arranged as before, but it was passable for tonight's gala. At least, I hoped so.

"Uh... not bad," I admitted.

She smirked. "Told you I could." She stuck out her tongue for good measure.

Whatever. "Okay. Fine. You did. I was wrong. Now let's go and find a clothesbrush... HEY! I'm talking to you!" This girl had no attention span whatsoever. She had already tripped off to investigate the sinks at the near side of the room.

"Wow, how weird -- look, Dryden ! It's all different colors in there." She pointed at the stains left by Indigo 's paints on the stone surface.

"Millerna, let's go already!” I grabbed her arm to drag her out of the room.

She jerked herself out of my grip. "What's your problem!?"

"My problem is you!" I snapped, matching her vehemence. "And I don't understand why_I_have to be after a girl to keep her clothes clean. It's dusty and dirty in here, and the sooner we go somewhere else, the less chance of you messing up your clothes." Well, that was part of it. The other part was that it felt -- wrong for Millerna to be wandering here so blithely, ignorant of this place's significance. It was like desecrating something sacred.

That moment, something flared in me. It was so hot and bitter, I could almost taste it on my tongue.

Why? Why did Indigo have to be dead? Why her? She was beautiful. She had dreams. She was going to make things happen. And now she was gone, her life extinguished by a season in an unfamiliar climate. What kind of meaningless end was that?

And in her place, I was saddled currently (and potentially for the rest of my life if Father had his way) with the company of this intolerable little shrew. This self-centered, spoiled brat, who through no virtue of her own was going to one day rule the kingdom. How was that fair that she was alive, and Indigo was not?

"Why should I?" she retorted. "Why should I do anything you say? After all, I'm the Crown Princess, and one day you're going have to do everything I say."

"Fine, little Miss Crown Princess. So Big Sister Eries will be just fine with you poking all over this place in your banquet clothes?" Millerna flinched a bit at that.

I regarded her sourly. "You know, your attitude is going to cause the entire kingdom a lot trouble someday. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that it's your fault that your sister was so pissed at Lady Silke earlier."

Millerna raised her eyebrows at my use of the word "pissed," but answered me anyway. "She had it coming."

"Yeah, right," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “That kind of attitude is going to make you a whole heap of friends.”

“All I did was go to look at one of the horses outside. It’s not like I was running away or anything. She was the one who freaked out about it. Anyone with half a brain knows that horses will spook if you come running in front of them flapping and yelling like a maniac.”

So that was what had happened. Somehow it didn’t surprise me. “Someone just got publicly humiliated and dismissed because you couldn’t control yourself. Don’t you feel badly at all about that? Think about what you’ve done to her!”

“Why is everyone yelling at me today?! You should feel sorry for me. After all, my big sister’s leaving me tomorrow, and I’ll never see her again.”

Her attempt for my sympathy might have worked, except…

“Besides,” she added in a smug tone, “you wouldn’t want your father finding out that you’ve been yelling at me. You HAVE to be nice to me no matter what.”

That did it. I lost it. My temper blew clear to Atlantis.

This next part, admittedly, probably was a little bit my fault.

I told her…honestly, now, I can’t remember even half the things I said, but it was ugly. An ugly, awful, devastating torrent that rampaged out of control.

She glared back defiantly, but only for a moment. Her chin trembled, and her tough front completely crumpled. Her wide lavender eyes filled with tears, but I didn’t care.

It hurt. I hurt. And I wanted everyone else to hurt, too.

Millerna, too shocked and upset to counter my tirade, did the only thing she could think of doing. She fled.

I let her go. I was far too incensed to care about Eries’ charge anymore.

That was, until I heard the crash a split second later.

I rushed to the door. A horrifying sight met my eyes. Dyed from head to toe in a dark, burgundy fluid was Millerna, too stunned even to cry out. Sprawled on the floor next to her was a partially drenched, but equally shocked looking chinchilla-man. Porcelain shards, the remnants of his vino jar, were strewn everywhere. He and his equally tongue-tied chinchilla compatriots stared mutely at the expensive liquid flowing down the parquet floor as if watching his very livelihood wash away.

The second princess of Asturia, standing at the head of their number, was not so reticent.

“DRY-DEN FAS-SA…”

So I did what any other self-respecting gentleman in the kingdom would do in my situation.

I ran, jumping out the window into the courtyard.

It's not my fault.

But as I listened to Eries fuming from my vantage point, I doubted that she cared.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

We know…. This chpt is called “Marlene,” but she hasn’t made an appearance yet. Never fear–she’ll be in the next installment–we just felt like we needed to post something since it’s been so long since this story was updated.

RahS