Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ A Country's Hope ❯ Living Memories ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
Roughly fifteen elongated years passed by. Seasons changed as they were prone to do, and towns were rebuilt. Generations transcended over their elders, and in time...Omora had returned to being a prosperous and blossoming country. No longer were there disputes with Fanelia, but what reason was there for those any longer? The source of the fighting had been eliminated. Alliances were made with a few countries in Gaea. By far their most powerful ally was the Duchy of Freid. Duke Mahad Dar Freid was truly a goodhearted ruler, yet he maintained a stern heir about him. He had seen a few wars, and had some well-trained soldiers in his army. It may have been small, but it would be an asset to Omora.

But, those years that had gone by definitely took their toll on Garrus. The once pure-black hair was now dusted over with quite a few ashy strands. Fine lines appeared in the former tight flesh, and dark circles spread their way beneath lower lids. He looked closer than ever to senectitude than he really was. Though, not a day went by, where Garrus didn't mourn the loss of his beloved queen...or wish that by some miracle she would return to him. He resorted to foolish superstitions about wishing on stars or praying to the ancient Draconians. And never did he give up the hope that his prayers may have been heard and answered someday.

That morning, Garrus had moved out of the bed, and over to the window. It had become a daily routine to watch over the citizens for a short while, making sure that everything was going accordingly. And sure enough, it was. He saw a few people going about their daily business, and others buying items from the market place. A couple children chased some hens through the bustling streets, shrieking with delight as they caught the animal...and then releasing it to play again. Garrus couldn't help but crack a smile at the sight. It was something he had always wanted...a child of his own. But, he would never have one if it weren't with Celia. He pledged his life to her, and those marriage vows were going to be kept despite her untimely demise.

The not-so-young king allowed a sigh to slip past those lips as he turned around. He had to prepare to go to Freid and negotiate things further with the Duke. Putting the final ties on their alliance of course, although Garrus wished that it didn't have to be such a difficult process. But, first thing first...he needed to pick out some presentable clothing. He wandered over to the large armoire, lifting a hand to rest on one of it's handles. Celia had used it for most of her dresses, shoes, and other accessories. He didn't dare touch it, until this moment. He had a desire for something tangible of hers...perhaps her scent still lingered upon them, and he would feel as though some part of her was alive within them.

Garrus slowly brought the doors open, and peeked inside. Dust had covered the bottom of the wardrobe, blanketing many of the items that tarried within. A hand reached forward, and digits closed around the fabric of one of Celia's dresses. He slowly tugged it off it's hanger, bringing it close to his form. The cloth was smooth and velvety against his touch. It reminded him of how soft her skin had been to feel; it made him miss her even more. His eyes wandered over the material absently. Such a pristine white hue, it had been barely worn. He trailed fingertips along the lacey collar...feeling the upraised gems that had been sewn into the silk.



"That dress looks heavenly on you..." Garrus stepped back to examine the woman before him.

The raven-haired beauty let out a soft laugh, "Oh you really think so? Well...it's a bit too heavy for me. And this collar is itchy against my neck. Who ever thought about sewing jewels into a collar? They must have been crazy...!"

"Would you like me to find a change for you?" Garrus moved closer to Celia, and smirked somewhat. "I could have my tailors go to all the trouble of making you a new dress...just to satisfy you this 'eve."

"Well...when you say it like that...no. I don't want them to go through all that trouble for me. So...I will suffer this banquet all for you, my dear..." Celia grinned brightly.

Garrus smiled as well, "I love you, Celia."

"I love you too..."



"Sir...?"

The scene vanished from sight, and the dress was the only real piece left...to indicate that it had ever really occurred. Garrus continued to study the outfit, letting his eyes remain focused on the collar. She might not have enjoyed wearing it, but Celia did look absolutely spectacular. He even felt the faintest twinge of lilac-the scent of Celia's perfume-touch his nose. Garrus didn't want to ruin the memory by speaking to the messenger, but he really had no choice in the matter. Slowly, the parcel of his deceased queen was placed back within the depths of the armoire and sealed up. Garrus let his gaze linger on the oaken patterns of the closed doors, before he turned around to face the youth. He was a new face in the castle...one that he didn't quite recognize. But, those thoughts were swallowed away, and he decided to respond.

"Yes...?"

"The Levi-ship has been prepared to take you to Freid ... will you be leaving now...?"

"Give me a moment...I must get dressed properly," Garrus chuckled weakly. "I hardly think it's right for me to leave in my nightclothes...don't you agree?"

The lad didn't seem to understand it was a joke right away, and it took him a moment or so to catch on. A forced laugh was made. The boy was nervous, or he didn't find Garrus amusing one bit--either way, it made the Omoran king feel miserable that he couldn't even generate a laugh from the youth. A sigh escaped him, and he motioned for the messenger to leave him be, which the young boy seemed more than happy to do. Garrus spun around, walked toward the bureau, pulling open a few drawers, and searching for the right clothing.

"Do you need help, your majesty?" A soft female voice started up behind him.

"Hn? No...no...I'm fine...thank you, miss..." He straightened up to glance toward what he assumed was a handmaiden-in hopes to catch her name.

The sight he saw, however...was no handmaiden. His eyes widened first in disbelief, and then a grin of delectation came into his lips. He was frozen in his spot, as much as he wanted to run forward and touch the sight before him. Perhaps it was a vision...? Something he had conjured up in his mind? Several times after Celia's death, he thought he had seen her, or heard her voice. Felt her touch, or smelled her scent. But, this did not seem like a mere phantasm.

"C-Celia...?" His tongue didn't want to make the words slip out, for fear that this wasn't real. It may have been some dream, his body lying to him-trying to create a relief for the sorrow he felt. "I-is it really... you?"

Tears swelled in the young woman's eyes, and she nodded once or twice. She, too, seemed to have the same problem with getting those words out of her mouth, "Y-y-yes... I-it's me, Garrus..."

He studied her skeptically. This could have been some trick of the mind. Nonetheless, Garrus had regained control of his feet, and put himself into motion. Slow walking gradually bloomed into a quick sprint. The Omoran King gathered her in his arms, and with a burst of emotion, he realized she was the real thing. He held onto her tightly, afraid that if he ever let go, she would fade away from his grasp. Celia just broke down and sobbed in his embrace. She had promised herself that she wouldn't do that, but it seemed her body didn't want to listen.

"Celia! Where were you?? Where have you been?"

"I...wish I could have told you. I wish I had more time before I had to go through with the plan, my love..."

"Plan...? What plan...? Celia...what do you mean...?"

The Saercarian lowered her gaze, but remained as close as possible to him. She hoped more than anything, that Garrus would be forgiving, and wouldn't shun her for having to deceive him for so long, "Garrus... on...that day... I didn't die..."



"My Queen...what are you planning to do...? You cannot actually go out into the battlefield. Lord Garrus will never allow it! You'll be in too much danger...just...please...let's get on the levi-ship, and go to Freid. They won't find you there, Queen Celia." The young messenger boy spoke with concern.

"Do not worry, Daynus. I do have a plan...please... if something terrible...seems to happen. Be sure that Garrus is fine..." Celia hitched up the skirt of that gown, and started for the door. Pausing in her tracks, she nipped on her lower lip, and glanced back at him. "I wish you and Fanis the best if...something does go wrong."

"My lady no!" Daynus raised his hand in protest, but it was too late as Celia had already fled the chamber.



"I ran as fast as I could to town...and I caught a carriage that was moving to the East. I knew it could only take me so far... but it was quicker than traveling the whole way by foot. Once I was brought to that certain point, something...strange happened..."



The carriage halted in it's tracks, and Celia pushed open the door, hopping off the step. Inky strands lifted from those shoulders with the brief defiance of gravity, and then they spilled back into place. She turned slightly, and gave the coachman a smile, "Thank you kindly, sir. I appreciated the ride..."

A pallid hand reached forward, and placed a few coins into the palm of the man. He uttered a simple 'Good day'...and then rode off into the distance. Celia watched him slip away from her sight for a moment, and then she turned the opposite direction. The wind had kicked up, forcing a shudder to creep down her spine. Palms raised, running along the fabric-folds of those sleeves, attempting to keep them at bay in the breeze. Shadows loomed over her form, and her attention lifted upward. Clouds of dark grey and black began to trek across the sky, covering the deep azure with their unpropitious heir. Sounds of thunder crackled in the distance, starting loud and then dying down to quietude. A single droplet of rain plummeted downward, and hit the end of her nose. The water lingered there a moment, collecting on the tip, and wavering there before it finally took the fall, and hit the ground.

"It's an ill-omen..." Celia remarked quietly, and somewhat horrified by it all.

She had to do something apace, but what? Those glassy oculars danced over the scenery, and then narrowed in resolution. Her hand slowly lifted and cupped the small, golden locket that hung around her neck. Fingers closed around the charm, and she bowed her head forward. Please...let me find someway there before it's too late.

There was a quick spark of light, which Celia assumed to be only lightning. Though, unlike lightning, this didn't fade away. The queen opened her eyes slowly, and they went wide at the sight. It seemed, a bluish-tinted light had bathed her form entirely. She felt the slightest hint of fear, but there was also awe. Her wishes had been heard, and within moments, that flash of light delivered her close to that battlefield.

She could hear the sounds of swords, and screams of anguish. The stench of blood and sweat filled her nostrils, and features contorted to a near-sickened look. One hand rested against her stomach, but she forced the bile back down into place. She hadn't come this far to turn away from simply being nauseated. Celia brought her hand downward, and clutched the bottom of her skirt, shifting it up a tad just to make the run easier. Her eyes locked on the guymelefs in sight, and they narrowed as she sprung into motion. She had to stop this chaos once and for all.



"You know what happened then..." Celia trailed off, and averted her gaze.

Garrus stared intently at her, and slowly seized her hands in his own. He tried to meet her eyes by tilting his head in their direction, and of course it worked. A comforting smile fit into his lips, and he urged her to continue, but had a single question of his own, "But, how did you survive, Celia...?"

"I never died..."

He blinked.

"It was your will...that kept me alive, Garrus...your wishes..."



As soon as Celia felt the warmth and comfort of Garrus's arms leave her, she tried with her all might to wake up, but she was far too weakened from blood loss. Fingers twitched over the fallen 'melef of her King's, and those brows drew together.

"What's going on...? Why can't I move...?" Celia thought to herself.

The voice seemed to echo within herself, and she struggled more than anything to fight through the vast darkness that outstretched before her. Everything was so empty; so dank. Physical responses to touch and sound were slowly melting away. Very faintly could she make out the last few words that Garrus relayed upon her. No, Garrus...don't leave! Please...it...wasn't supposed to be like this. But, her voice didn't allow the words, and her body.. wouldn't permit any motion. She was trapped...trapped in a sea of lightlessness.



"A few moons turned...and I have no knowledge of what happened until around the middle of Red. Apparently, some nice people had found me, and nursed me back to health through all that time. Were it not for them, I most likely would have died. My plan had gone horribly amiss... I never intended on getting hit with that sword, for you see. If I would have known when he was about to strike, I could have deflected it, Garrus." She sighed, and shook her head softly. "But...these people...didn't live anywhere near Omora. I had no idea where I was...and my memory was vague. It took years for bits and pieces to actually return to me. And, that was why I couldn't return to you, my king...for I didn't really remember much. But, finally...finally I did. And...it was because of your prayers, you see. Your prayers gave me my knowledge back...I know it now..."

"But...how, Celia...? How could you possibly--"

The Omoran queen took his hand gently in her own, and lay it upon her chest, "I felt it...in my heart..."

A grin settled into Garrus's features, as he felt that life beating beneath him. The life that he had missed for so long, and so, he took her in his arms, and held her tightly, "Oh, Celia...I love you so much."



* * *



"It's a girl! A beautiful baby, girl..." Garrus beamed, and cradled the newborn in his arms. The miniature arms flailed about, and she let out a healthy cry. He tugged up the snug, cyan blanket a bit over the alabaster skin, and he brought his index finger forward, watching as the minuscule digits grasped it tightly.

Celia grinned at her husband, and pushed her tired form upright. The dark spheres seemed to sparkle with delight, as she watched his reactions to the young bantling. The moment wasn't shared by only those two, however. Their two best servants were there as well. But, Garrus and Celia didn't think of them as just 'servants.' Daynus and Fanis were trusted confidants and close friends. It was only natural for them to be there...to share in the joy of the first-born princess. Daynus stood beside the king, and smiled down at the baby. Dark strands were strewn about messily, though no one seemed to care. He didn't need to be well-kept to rejoice. The man was about the same age as Garrus, though, he appeared much younger since stress did not cause him to age prematurely as it had the Omoran king. His wife, Fanis was busily tending to Celia, dabbing a dampened cloth along her forehead. The handmaid's flaxen strands were neatly tied back in a bun to avoid falling in that elegant face of hers. She had the deepest blue eyes, and high-cheekbones which gave her a royal heir, though, she was nothing of the sort.

"Have you decided on a name, Celia...?" Fanis smiled gently at her, and raised her attention toward Garrus who had busied himself with twirling around the poor baby girl.

Celia laughed softly at the scene, and then looked over at Fanis, "Her name is Eiko. Eiko Aeria Omoi. We decided that officially if she were a girl..."

"Ah...it's very pretty..."

Garrus stopped abruptly, and branched off in a chuckle, pulling the small form close to his body. The young Eiko seemed oblivious to what had happened, and that mouth opened wide for a yawn. Tiny feet kicked at the blanket, and the infant squirmed around in her father's grasp. Fists clenched, and unclenched, and she began to whine a bit from obvious hunger. Garrus laughed some, and then strided proudly over to Celia, handing the baby to her.

"I'll leave you to feed...but inform me as soon as your done!" He grinned wide, and looked over toward Daynus. "Daynus, come now. We must celebrate..."

The two men bounded out the door and closed it behind themselves. Celia smiled some, and then shifted a tad. Her fingers were brought up to that blouse, and she undid a couple of the top buttons. She pulled some of the cloth away, to expose a breast, fingertips brushing over the young girl's cheek in order to guide her in the direction of the pink tip. Eiko's mouth found the nipple, and began to drink away at the motherly milk. Celia couldn't help but smile down at her daughter, and her gaze lifted to Fanis slowly. She was her closest friend, it wasn't as though she was going to ask her to leave for a simple thing like this. In fact, it gave them time to talk farther.

"Fanis..."

"Yes?"

"If something bad happens...to me and to Garrus. You and Daynus would take care of Eiko wouldn't you...?"

"Of course, Celia. We would raise her like she were our own.."

"I'm glad..." Celia smiled.

"She really is a beautiful baby..." Fanis brought her hand forward, running fingertips along the top of the newborn's head while she fed.

"I know...she is going to be quite the little heart-stealer...who knows...perhaps someday, she will win the heart of some handsome king..."

The two women laughed softly, and Eiko seemed to coo happily. Hands reached up, and grabbed at the jet-black strands of her mother's. Lips released the nipple, and some of the milk trickled down the corner of her mouth, dribbling down her chin. Celia smiled, and pulled the shirt back over her body, lifting her baby up slightly. She lay her over her shoulder, and patted the little girl's back lightly. Fanis watched in awe. She couldn't help but feel a little envious of the motherly bond for she and Daynus had tried several times for a child of their own, but all of those attempts had been in vain. The handmaid had always hoped that some miracle would land her with a child all her own, to care for and love...perhaps, if she did wish hard enough...that wish...would come true.