Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Visions of the Irenic Wars ❯ Orchestration I ( Chapter 1 )

Orchestration I

Water, dark and uninviting, lay before her. The crashing waves rushed over the sand, tossing a few broken shells at her bare feet. A chill ran through her body. There was something wrong about this sea, something very wrong. No, not the sea itself, but rather what was in it. She did not want to have anything to do with what may or may not be lurking just out of her sight, but something compelled her forward. Something wanted her.

"Come. Follow me."

She tore her gaze away from the dark waters and looked behind her, back towards the sand dunes and towards the sound of the voice. He stood there, wearing nothing more than a grim expression and a knee-length piece of cloth wound about his waist. Wings unfurled behind him and the breeze coming off of the water ruffled raven hair and snow-white feathers. He began walking towards the water and did not stop until his back was to her and he was far enough in for the water to swirl about his calves. A breath caught in her throat.

"Follow me," he repeated, an aura of elegance and power rolling off of him. He faced her then, the moonlight lending his eyes an eerie glow. A hand extended towards her. "Trust me."

The words echoed in her head, and she did the only thing she could. She put her hand in his and stepped forward.

***

Hitomi sat upright, hair askew and sweat running down her body, her rumpled bed sheets clinging to her legs. The dream had ended at the same point it did every night. She didn't mind having reoccurring and obscure dreams; what she hated was not being able to remember them. Sighing, Hitomi fell back onto her pillow and stared at the ceiling. What was the point of having dreams one couldn't remember? She shut her eyes and struggled to recall her dream, trying to grasp onto any available clue.

The sound of a distant siren brought her back to reality. Hitomi glanced over at her alarm clock and groaned. It was almost four-thirty in the morning. There were two more hours until her alarm went off, but she knew there was no way she was going to fall asleep again; she simply had too much on her mind. With a huff of resignation, she threw off the covers and swung her legs over the side of her bed. She stood, engulfed in the moonlight light spilling through her window. Hitomi ran a hand through her short hair and made her way over to the pair of running shorts and T-shirt that she had hastily thrown over the back of her chair the day before.

Once her pajamas had been replaced by her running outfit, Hitomi fished a pair of socks out of a dresser drawer and grabbed her running shoes from her gym bag. She opened her bedroom door and scanned the hall, keeping a weary eye out for any light peeking from under closed doors. Despite being an adult in her own right, her parents were still as overprotective as they had been since the day she was born. Encounters at this time of the night -morning, she reminded herself- would definitely raise questions and questions were bad.

Relieved, she smiled. The coast was clear. Hitomi padded her way through the hall, down the stairs, and to the entry way. She paused long enough to pull on her socks and shoes before opening the front door and stepping out in to the chill autumn air.

Hitomi took a deep breath, threw a glance to the night sky, and began to run down the concrete sidewalk.

***

Silk banners of red and gold fluttered against the crystal noon sky. Merchants and dancers had long since picked out locations for their booths and small pavilions. The smell of roasting meats and baking pastries was almost overwhelming. Flutes, drums, and lutes accompanied the sound of children's laughter. The days before the harvest fair was always like this; so full of excitement and anticipation.

Van loved it.

From the edge of the fairgrounds, the young king of Fannelia watched the workings of the fair on horseback. He smiled as a wave of nostalgia washed over him. When he was little, he and Folken would escape from their lessons and training to spend their afternoons at the fairgrounds. Sometimes he would return to the palace with a sticky face and hands- proof that he had spoiled his dinner with honeycakes- and Balgus would pretend not to notice the evidence, offering only a knowing sigh and shake of the head. Oh, how he had loved those honeycakes. Folken had even used them to bribe him on occasion.

Van stared off into the distance. It seemed like a thousand years had passed since then and his memories weren't always vivid, but at least now he could look back on them without shame; his brother's honor had been restored and Van was no longer the little boy who would run through the crowds, pretending not to be a prince.

"Milord!"

Van shifted in his saddle, signaling his horse to turn around. "Yes?" At the sight of an approaching figure bearing the uniform of a page, a grimace flickered momentarily through his stoic mask. He should have known that the council would find some way to interrupt his afternoon off. They always did. And, for some strange reason, they always sent their poor pages on foot. Van saw that they had sent Duran, the head chamberlain's son, and his mood lightened a little. Duran was a fine boy and was well on his way to earning the future post of head chamberlain himself.

"Milord, I beg your pardon," Duran panted as he reached Van's mount. The boy's cheeks were flushed and his clothes clung to his small, sweaty form. "There is a diplomat from Rennoch who wishes to speak with you."

Van nodded. Any business with Rennoch was most certainly important, especially with the young country's volatile state, and always warranted his immediate response. "Garron, Issah!"

Issah, the younger of two warriors who accompanied him to the fair, pulled his attention away from a nearby display of beautiful dancers and straightened at the sound of his lord's voice. Giving his younger companion a dramatic wink, Garron let out a belly chuckle. Van looked at the warriors with a humored grin and stretched.

"It seems I have some business to attend to. Garron, I trust you can keep track of Issah for me if I leave you here? Why don't you two just enjoy the rest of the afternoon?" Van held up a hand to stop the oncoming dutiful protests, his expression showing no room for argument, and asked Duran, "Did the diplomat say what his business was?"

The boy shook his head. "No, milord. He said that he would conduct his doings only with you."

"Very well." Van urged his mount forward, then paused. "Duran, do you have any obligations for the rest of the day?"

"No, milord. Is there something you require of me?" Duran asked, brushing his ginger colored bangs aside.

"Actually," Van began, fishing some money out of his vest's inner pocket, "there is. Buy as many honeycakes as you can carry and have them sent to my chambers." He tossed the coins to the boy and set his horse in the palace's direction. It was clear he probably wouldn't have the evening out in the city that he had intended, but at least he could have some piece of it brought to him.

The short gallop from the fairgrounds to the palace's side entrance took only a few minutes, but when Van arrived, he looked as if he could have been riding for hours. He dismounted and ran his hands through his windblown hair, trying vainly to bring it to some sort of order. Thankfully, his face wasn't too smudged with dust. There was little he could do about the wrinkles in his clothing, but he would have to live with that. He would have freshened up in his chambers under normal circumstances, but odds were that the Rennochian diplomat had been kept waiting for some time now. A few of his advisors would likely balk at his receiving a diplomat dressed as he was, in tan riding breeches and a sleeveless black tunic, and looking more like a scruffy bandit than a king. They, Van decided, would just have to deal with it. The clothes did not make the king. He smiled. Karlos, the Rennochian diplomat, was a good natured man and had known Van during the Great War.

A stable hand sprinted over, took the horse's reins, and led the animal too the stalls. Van strode across the small courtyard to the marble walkway, where an advisor was already waiting for him. The advisor, a man named Eiryn, originally hailed from Asturia, but came to Fannelia shortly after the end of the Great War. Much to Merle's amusement, his native accent peeked through any time he grew excited or worried. Merle's impersonations were well known to her friends.

Eiryn bustled to Van's side, his speed belying his portly girth. "Milord, it is good to see that you have arrived, but you are alone. Where is your guard?"

"I left them at the fair," Van admitted. "If it's not safe to ride a few miles on my own, then I might as well just imprison myself here. Now what is the story with the diplomat?"

"He arrived with an escort almost an hour ago."

"I trust he and the members of the escort have been given proper treatment and chambers?" Van asked, slightly relieved that not even an hour had passed since their arrival. It would still be acceptable for him to clean up and make a proper appearance.

Eiryn seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Aye, milord. But..."

"But?"

"I believe there is more than one matter they wish to discuss. One that may even help strengthen alliance ties." Pausing to pluck at some imaginary loose thread on his shirt, Eiryn said lightly, "It is a wonderful thing to have them visit during an event as cultural as our harvest fair and so close to milord's eighteenth birthday. And perhaps it would be a good idea for milord to show his guests around this evening."

Van ignored Eiryn's suggestive tone, not caring much for what may have been implied. "Relay this message: I will hold an audience with Rennoch's diplomat within the hour," Van said crossly. And with that, he left his advisor behind and began walking towards his chambers, in the palace's south wing. He attempted to quell the ominous suspicions in his gut.

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Author's Commentary: I swear to all that is holy in Geekdom that this is not, I repeat, NOT a "Let's throw a potential bride- maybe Celena- at Van so that Hitomi- omg get this, this is so never used in long escafics- has to go to Gaea and marry Van and they can argue against his advisors" piece of fanfiction. While that is an idea that may sound good at first, very rarely has it ever been pulled off well. I'm not even going to attempt it; I may some other time, but certainly not now. I do realize that this is a slow start to this story, but it will speed right along very soon. I just want to get a few things established first.

Like all of my fanfiction writing brethren, I welcome constructive criticism. Constructive criticism makes me happy. You guys like a happy Maverick, right?

If you said, "Yes," then I'll give you an imaginary cookie. If you say, "No," then I'll just ignore you and pretend that you said, "Yes."