Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Secrets ❯ Unexpected ( Chapter 8 )

Secrets

Chapter Eight

Unexpected

Dedicated to ZEmpress and Kay Noel

AN: I'd like to say special thanks to ZEmpress and Kay Noel for their e-mailed suggestions. They were really helpful and if it weren't for them I'd still be staring at my monitor with no logical thought in my head. All readers owe this chapter to them and that is why this chapter is officially dedicated to them.

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Dilandau's blood was pounding in his ears. He could hear their hearts beating, his and hers, both in a rapid, uneven tempo, in sync. He had never been in such a position before, not knowing what to do or what to say. It was strange in an excitingly dangerous way but Dilandau knew that this was too delicate a situation to just go with the flow. His only option was to revert to Dilandau: Dragonslayer mode.

He stared at her, his eyes cold, unfeeling and speaking volumes. Anyone looking at his face would say he looked as though he didn't give a horse's ass about the girl sitting opposite him. Celena's face expressed nothing. Her face the same unfeeling mask that he wore.

As he moved towards the balcony she followed, needing to talk to him but not knowing where exactly to start. It was an extremely romantic scene with the two of them standing at the opposite ends of his terrace simply staring across at each other as the wind blew slightly and ruffled their clothes and hair. As this thought hit Celena she almost snorted.

Dilandau noticed it right away. He was amazed at how fast she could change expressions. The dexterity of her face was unbelievable. With just a twitch of an eyebrow or the slightest adjustment in the width of her grin could make her face say something completely different. He didn't realise that she saw the same thing on his.

Her hair had grown, he noted, it was now well past her shoulders. He never looked in the mirror when she was, he had never known if she was dressed or not. But there she was, standing in front of him in a sleeveless deep violet gown that was tight to her waist, and narrow in the skirt with one long slit down her right starting at…the hip. What would Allen say if he saw her? Here, with him, alone, in that? The thought made Dilandau smile wickedly. That would be fun to watch…or would have if he would not be on the receiving end of Allen's wrath.

She was taller now but not by much. She had always been short. Her figure (and other prominently feminine parts), highly accented by that gown, had definitely improved. It was almost too clear to him and he realised that most of her height was made up of pure leg. This also made him wonder what possessed her to wear such a thing. Was she purposely showing off for him? For some reason he thought the better of this and realised that Allen would probably find her in here and that outfit would enrage him to such an extent that Celena wouldn't actually get into trouble, he'd just spend all night ranting and raving and making a scene of himself for their viewing pleasures.

But it did turn him on. There was no denying that Celena looked extremely sexy in that dress and it didn't help that he'd noticed it too. He would almost feel bad about noticing her in that kind of way but as he thought back, he'd never thought of her as a sister but rather a counterpart. A counterpart that he was not so sure he could live without. His heart was hammering and it was starting to almost hurt his ears. The wind was picking up. It was blowing harder and getting colder. Celena shivered involuntarily. Dilandau didn't miss it. He was looking too closely.

"Are you cold?" he asked not even hearing himself or the concern in his voice. Celena heard it. It made her look up into his ruby eyes ('How mundane and overused,' she thought) but they were in truth, the first eyes she'd ever seen that could sparkle like rubies and maintain their deep, rich red colour (they were the first red eyes she had seen flat out). Dilandau had gotten taller too, he hadn't lost any of his muscle and he wasn't an ounce fatter. He was never what one would call muscular but he was well toned and you could just look at him and tell he was strong, very attractive to someone who was overwhelmed by very big people. His shirt was loose and slightly too big because it was Allen's. It was long for him too and ended a little above his knees. His pants were also borrowed from Allen but he'd folded them to his length. His feet were bare, like hers.

Silver hair blended with pale skin and blood red. He was indeed unique. A unique and exquisite specimen that emerged physically unblemished from the aftermath of war (AN ->MISSING: One cheek scar belonging to Dilandau Albatou. Please report to the nearest Gaea authorities if you have any information of the whereabouts of this mark ^-~). He was, in a word, as Merle would say so very often, HOT. Maybe most people couldn't see past the cold-blooded killing monster that he was but she could.

"If you notice," she said into the night air, "most people don't even bother to see if a killer is handsome or ugly, to them they're all repulsive and faceless, the way nobility regards any random beggar on the street. They have no bodies; only dark, hate filled souls. Or maybe people's hatred of them makes them ugly in their eyes. It's quite ironic how everyone says that killers have no souls and hearts but they never see the body of the killer, what he looks like, they see only the horror of his soul. Really, people make no sense sometimes, they say that killers have no souls but they never see their bodies. What does that make killers? Diseases? Therefore, everyone who has ever killed, in self-defence, cold-blood, anger, sport, on the hunt, they're all infected. If they're not dead, they don't have a body. Like me…like you…like us. That's what we are, dead."

She had no idea why she had said that but as she listened to herself speak, she realised what she was saying. They were like two dead bodies, they had no purpose or reason; they just were. Dilandau understood what she was saying. He watched her realise what she was saying as the words flowed out of her mouth eloquently. The wind was steadily getting fiercer, it was blowing very fast now but they weren't noticing the change.

What Celena had actually said to Dilandau was: 'No one has ever looked at you, have they? They've always known you to be Dilandau but they never saw the person inside the guymelef, they never saw how handsome you are. They know you're a killer and that's all that matters to them. Now that you have a body what are you going to do? What am I going to do? I've always had you in my body and now there're so many things I can do but none I would be allowed to do. You are carried forever as a part of me. We are one and we might as well be dead. We are alive but with no reason.'

They were speaking in code. A completely indecipherable and random code that followed no pattern but the other knew what was meant and understood. Celena did not fear that Dilandau had not understood her or had gotten her meaning wrong, she was afraid he had gotten it all too well.

"Words flow so well from your mouth, Lady Schezar," Dilandau said in a cold and almost wickedly teasing voice. He sounded like he was using a cruel kind of foreplay; he was seducing her with words that had hidden meanings. That was obvious enough but this time, every tone of voice had a different meaning.

"Have you ever noticed that when you don't think, things come so easily to you. You don't have to worry; you simply give in to the thoughts and spill all of your deepest secrets. It takes no time to just let go and let reflexes take over, like in a warrior who is so well trained that everything becomes and reflex and after a while, conscious thought stops and everything is done on reflex. The only problem with letting your mouth fly off its leash is the things that you think. If you think a terrible thought, people will hear it. If you say something during your state of passiveness, you loose trust, hurt so many people. You could say something about your brother, your mother, your father, the princesses, the royal family…me," he ended quietly, saying that last word very hesitantly. He kept his gaze out of the balcony, at anything beyond her head.

He had understood her. His reply: 'You do know how to manipulate what you say very well. In your symbolism lies symbolism. You're not thinking straight. When you don't think about the consequences of your actions some things seem so easy to do. They seem like the only option. You've learnt and follow effortlessly the dictations of others, Allen for one, and you let the way they live their lives affect the way you live yours. Suddenly, it seems like the only thing to do because you are bound by the codes of honour set by your brother and the people around you so you take the honourable way out. You know that there can only be one way to escape your pain without having to face up to everything. But what would you do to the others while you indulge in some immature fantasy, idea, momentary insanity, call it what you will? What would you do to Allen? And Millerna? And Jajuka? And Merle? And all the people that loved you, died for you, love you still… What would that do to me?'

"Death must be wonderful. There are no consequences after death. When you die, that's it. Everything is over. There's no one left to hurt and no that can hurt you. You become untouchable. Everything is fine and nothing matters. You don't matter anymore. Everything is fine." She sounded like she wanted to cry. Then stronger, almost in denial, she said, "No one cares after you're dead. They remember you and sit in silence on the day you died for a few years and then suddenly, they forget which day you died. They forget why you died. In the end, they inevitably forget you. They all have lives to live, why dwell on those who are gone when there are so many to come? Thinking about it makes you want to go."

She was almost crying but not. She would not cry. She had answered him back: 'To die would be best. Then no one would have to live with the things I did. I was a horrible person; a terrible person and I need to go. If I go I will find peace. I might actually rest. There I can't hurt anyone and no one can ever do to me what they did ever again. Sorcerers can't change me, Allen can't confine me, nothing can happen to me. But they don't love me. It wouldn't hurt them. Half the people that you're talking about are dead and WHY? Because of me. It's all my fault. Everyone's blood is on my hands. I have nothing left to live for.'

Dilandau was sick of this word play. He was going to take control and knock some sense into that girl with straightforward sentences. She was confusing herself with her symbolism. And she was giving him a headache. Throwing all caution and tact to the wind (which was growing steadily louder and stronger), he strode forward and grabbed her shoulders. He shook her slightly to wake her up from the trance her glazed eyes suggested she was in.

"Listen to me, Celena! Lots of people, living people, love you. You have your brother and your friends who would all like to see you alive. You have the chance to live now, Celena! I'm not in you anymore. You can be your own person. I want you to live Celena. You gave me life and now I'm telling you to keep yours. Don't throw it away. Don't. For me, please, don't," she stared in utter shock at the top of his silver head that was bent over hiding his expression from her.

He mumbled, "Don't go. I need you, Celena. You've always been there for me and I-." His sentence was cut off by the sound of the wind, it sounded like a tornado was standing next to them. They both looked up the see a beautiful huge white Dragon hovering in the air above them, flapping its great wings and perched atop its back, giving them a death-glare from hell, was His Highness, Lord Van Fanel, King of Fanelia.

Five minutes later the door of the room burst open and Van stalked in, sword drawn, followed by Allen, Gaddes and, surprisingly, Millerna. Celena curled her fingers tightly around Dilandau's arm and held him in place next to her on the edge of the bed.

"You!" snarled Dilandau and Van simultaneously. Celena's grip tightened.

"Oh gods." Millerna murmured under her breath and it summed up the thoughts of everyone else in the room.

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AN: This was one long chapter! I can't believe I wrote it. There was way too much symbolism and I thought that if I left it there no one would be able to guess what it meant so I included translations. I'm sorry if I've got you in a whirl but the whole thing basically meant that Celena wanted to kill herself (again! *mutters 'Damn drama queen' quietly*) and Dilandau was (obviously) trying to stop her. I'll post again next weekend.

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