I've given up. Prospective beta disappeared again, so I broke with my resolution and now post this unbeta-ed. Again. I'm so sorry. Any and all mistakes you might find are my fault alone; please don't hesitate to point them out to me. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Visions of Escaflowne characters; they belong to Kawamori-sensei and whoever he sold the rights to. I am borrowing them without explicit permission and torture them for my own sinister purposes, but this is merely fanwork with no profit whatsoever made or intended.

Warning: This chapter contains erotic actions between consenting adults, please back away if you don't feel comfortable reading this.

Have fun reading, I've let you wait long enough. Hopefully this chapter will make it up to you. On we go.

Colours

Chapter 18

Shimmer

Her voice was a constant jabbering in the background of my awareness.

"… can't believe how much he has improved; it's almost a miracle!" Meruru said over the clinking of silverware and dishes.

"Mmm..." My response came automatically, my eyes never leaving the steadily shifting crowd that pushed across the room.

Where was she?

"If I could, I'd get him out of here immediately; these stuffy, depressing rooms would make anybody sick," the chattering went on, "there's nothing wrong with him, really, he's just a little weak from lying around for too long. That's only natural, isn't it?"

"Mmmhm!"

"He'd be fine if they'd only let him out to play. Fresh air and a little sunlight would do him worlds of good; he's a young boy, for God's sake, and yet these people keep tying him to his bed! D'you reckon I should put a word into Van's ear about him?"

"Mmmh?"

"... Hitomi?"

"Mmmm."

"Bitch!"

Unexpectedly, a fist whizzed past my nose and landed on the table with a loud bang, causing my heart to leap into my throat and my head to jerk around.

Glowing eyes were glinting at me from the face of my very pissed-off opposite.

"He's your patient I'm taking care of. The least you could do is show some interest," Meruru snarled.

"Woops?" I offered weekly and ducked the half-hearted swipe of her clawed hand. "Auugh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Only slightly mollified the feline harpy pulled back her paw and settled back onto the bench, still glaring. "What were you looking for anyway?"

"Yone," I muttered and turned my head towards the entrance of the cavernous kitchen, ready to dive under the table should the sturdy figure of the housekeeper appear in its opening.

"Haven't you seen her this morning?"

"Exactly," I said, "I've seen her yesterday. I've seen her today. I'm seeing her every waking hour of every day, because there is always something else she needs me to do. It's a wonder she let me come and eat a bite. There's no doubt she'll be back soon to keep nagging me. I don't appreciate being kept tethered. I've got places to be."

"In other words," Meruru's voice sounded gleeful, "you will shirk your duties and disappear from under her nose, a scant five hours before the oh-so-important, oh-so-posh reception begins, to pursue your very own sinister plans."

"Yep," I said, glad she had caught on so quickly. "I'm off to the hospital wing. I need to see my patients and a little peace of mind."

Her smile grew devious.

"I see. In that case you'll need to get going really quickly, because the person you wish to avoid is currently nearing the kitchens. I can hear the rattling of her keyrings and smell the weight of her responsibilites."

I was off the bench in a flash, moving backwards towards the door.

"You have not seen me," I warned the grinning cat woman, "and you have no idea where I might be. You don't even know who I am, or else -"

"If you say so," she meowed and made a shushing noise with her paw.

Wordlessly I twirled around and dashed towards the back exit, an odd prickling between my shoulder blades from the knowledge that Yone might turn around the corner any moment and spot me.

A few steps still, a heavy-going handle, another leap across the threshold and then the wooden door closed behind me with a thud.

I broke into a long stride to bring as much distance between myself and my bad conscience as possible. It took merely a few minutes to climb the long, winding staircase to the ground floor. The prickling in my neck didn't subside until I reached the end of the narrow, empty passageway and dove into the main corridor.

As expected, it was shock-full of people.

Now, left or right?

"Oy!" someone shouted behind my back. I jumped aside just in time to avoid being run over by a flock of servants carrying bales of cloth, each as large as a ten-year-old child. They were probably going to drape the walls of the assembly room tonight.

These days, every single delivery was destined for the assebly room.

Tonight's reception was going to be an interplanetary event. The castle was positively teeming with people. Practically all of Gaia would come trampling into our Great Hall to celebrate the advent of the winter solstice, to talk, form useful acquaintances and refresh old ones, close deals, see and be seen, to dance, flirt and gorge themselves on the most magnificent buffet I had ever seen prepared in the kitchen dungeons.

The first guests arrived yesterday evening, bringing with them crowds of family members, associates, escorts and servants. More were yet to come.

Large quantities of servants had been hired temporarily to reinforce the regular staff and workmen; caterers and helpers were bustling about the place.

I'd be lucky to reach my destination anytime soon and even luckier if I didn't meet somebody who would try roping me into the preparations again.

I had to reach less populated sections as quickly as possible.

Okay. To the left, then.

I wove through bunches of people, sverved around the next corner, almost colliding with a crate of food, and dove into a side corridor.

The hospital wing was situated at the back end of the building, towards the gardens and at ground level, so I gave the main staircase a wide berth and kept to the left side of the complex.

Even in its new, practical and unembellished design, Fanelia Castle was a sprawling labyrinth of rooms, staircases and corridors. I didn't reach the more remote backwards wing of the castle until I'd walked for nearly twenty minutes.

Slowly, however, the passageways grew quieter and less crowded. Walls painted the green colour of fresh leaves announced my imminent arrival.

I breathed a sigh of relief. The quiet serenity of the living quarters was balm on my already frazzled nerves. How glad I was going to be once this to-do was over and forgotten.

Until next year, of course. How Van was able to stand this strain was beneath -

- what was that?

Crack!

The crunch of booted feet on the stone floor. A low rumble of voices.

People.

As quick as a flash I pressed against the nearest wall, stood still and strained my ears. The tiltillating sensation running down my neck was back again.

Two persons.

The cadence of their steps was accompanied by the dry rap of a wooden walking stick hitting the hard ground and the discreet murmur of a low, brittle voice.

My stomach lurched.

Him? Again?

Yep. It had to be the head physician. No-one else still used that kind of old-fashioned wooden crutches.

I drew back into the shadows, squeezed into a niche and held my breath. With difficulties I resisted the tempation to shut my eyes.

Don't look at me don't look at me don't …

Gods, was I ever being childish!

Despite the fact that he had saved not only my life, back when I had been transported to Gaia half-dead, but also Van's on numerous occasions-

Despite the fact that he acted as my supervisor-

Despite the fact that he was the first who had made me realize how much of an egotistical fool I'd been -

- oh, all right, maybe it was because of all those reasons that I staid away from him as much as possible.

I had not forgotten the strictures he'd given me. Far from it. They still resonated in the back of my mind.

People who have so little regard for their life should not be entitled to all the pains we take to rescue them, don't you think?

His presence alone called to mind the discomfort, the shame and dejection I felt back when he presented me with these uncomfortable truths. I'd behaved like an angry, spiteful tart - and yet he had rescued me, brought me to my senses and provided the reason why I was now able to lead a happy life at Van's side.

I was indebted to him to an extent that I could never repay.

For that I couldn't forgive him.

I watched him walk past me, his irregular gait, the impressive crown of curly silver hair, pale eyes lying in the shadows, and wished for an instance of imperfection or weakness, anything that made him approachable. Wished for the strength to overcome my own pride.

Funny how it was just as difficult to acquit somebody of generosity than of wickedness.

His shadow – and the one of his companion, a visitor or a patient – wandered further down the corridor. The sound of their booted feet faded into the distance. They were gone.

I heard the click of a door being unbolted, then the quiet, cool voice of the physician murmuring something. A light tenor answered and I stiffened.

Hang on - that was Allen Shezar.

What was he doing here?

Carefully I peeked around the corner. Sure enough, a shiny curtain of blonde hair disappeared through the door held open by the old doctor.

Allen.

Was he hurt? Had he sustained an injury during the attack on Abaddon's fortress?

Impossible, an affliction of the kind that still needed treatment would have been visible, would have impaired his stance or the way he moved. I saw him right before my inner eye, how he was standing in the doorway on the evening Van and I had returned. Straight posture and effortless movements despite heavy armour.

No, no physical injury.

But then, what else was he doing here, of all places?

I edged around the corner and crept towards the closed door behind which the faint rumble of voices could be heard.

The mental image of a young cat girl appeared in my mind, unbidden, stamped with the big-lettered word 'sneaky'.

Smiling self-consciously I waved the vision aside. Desperate times called for desperate measures. After all, Allen was a close friend, nothing more, but nothing less either. If there was something amiss with him, I had to know.

Maybe I could help him, just as he'd helped me. That's what friends did, right?

Two more careful steps brought me to the dark wooden doorframe. The voices were more distinct now, but still difficult to make out.

"… similar … classical conditioning…," I heard the dry, brittle voice of the physician say and leaned closer yet, "basically it effects … influence on … subconscious … reaction to … stimulus."

Allen replied, "I see" After a short pause, then, "Can you remove it?" His voice appeared to be coming closer to the door and I shifted back a few inches.

I couldn't catch the physician's reply and whether it was an affirmative or a negative. However, as he spoke next, I caught the words "origin … influence?"

Intrigued, I leaned closer again. That's what I wanted to know as well. Funny, Allen had never made the impression of a man controlled, had he?

My ear touched the dry, cool surface of the wood as Allen spoke, " I can only guess as to the source of the influence, but a few years ago -"

A hand fell onto my shoulder heavily.

Eep!

I whirled around to find a tutting and scowling Yone behind me.

Aw, shit.

She quietly shook her head, clamped her fingers around my upper arm and tugged me away from the door, away from the medical quarter. My cheeks were flaming, but she didn't give a comment other than a matter-of-factly "You have got to get dressed, M'lady."

Her dignified silence made me feel even worse.

Lady Hitomi of the Earth, snooping on Shezar like a gossip, what a pathetic picture of me this incident painted of me if word got around. Even worse, if word got to Van.

Oh, God, he'd take me for a disobedient child or worse!

With a covert glance to Yone's carefully blank expression I hoped she'd feel enough loyalty for me as to keep quiet about how she found me.

Furthermore, in the future nobody was ever going to catch me in as indignified circumstances as these. No more listening at doors.

In the future, I'd ... I'd find more discreet means of spying on people.

Yes, I would.

I let Yone herd me towards my sleeping quarters and let myself be scrubbed, bathed, anointed, squeezed into a corset and swathed in clouds of soft, shimmering cloth.

Yone herself was lacing me up, pulling strings and closing buttons at an almost frantic rate while at the same time serving me bites of information as to who was going to attend the event, who had excused themselves and why, and at which time supper was going to be served.

No doubt she was suffering under the delusion I wanted to know.

I couldn't care less as to who of the Fanelian cream I was supposed to be hob-nobbing with - although I perked up upon mention of the name 'Stiliani of Derval'.

I did, however, care about the fact that I was expected to do so with a cleavage as indecent as I'd ever worn in my life.

"Is there a particular reason for me to have my breasts almost popping out of the neckline of this dress, or is that just a concession to the religious character of this occasion?" I asked as the head of staff finished tying my bodice and turned to dragging a comb through my still-damp, snaggled hair.

"Don't worry, M'lady, the dress fits as snug as a glove fits a hand and only enhances your proper, elegant way of moving," she replied evenly and I felt my eyebrows skyrocketing.

I knew the elderly housekeeper was not intimidated easily, but I'd never given her credit for that much wry humour.

"Your charms will in all probability be called for upon attending the Lord Chancellor of Mynar," she said cheerfully, swept my forelock back and pinned it to my scalp rather more briskly than strictly necessary. I bit my lip, refusing to utter a single sound of pain. "In fact," she then continued, "King Van wishes to ensure his vote in the Council of the Gaian Heads of State in favour of the international agreement on free trading he is planning to introduce."

I turned around disbelievingly.

"This is not one of these precarious secret agendas, is it?" I asked and saw, with no small amount of trepidation, an arch glint appear in Yone's eyes. Oh Gods, not again!

"As always, this stroke of ingenuity has been Van's."

Statement, not a question. I already knew it to be so.

Her silence spoke volumes.

"And is there any reason for him to keep giving me tasks, except wanting to be able to watch me screw up?" I pried further.

My head jerked back as Yone gathered the rest of my hair in a thick strand and pulled it smooth.

"It is not my place to second-guess my king," she said, not unkindly, but resolutely, catching my eye in the mirror. I could see very clearly what else she wanted to say, but was in no position to pronounce. Nor is it, with all due respect, yours, M'lady.

"This is my life he is playing with," I said crossly, holding her gaze. "I want to know what he expects of it."

Tiny crow-feet appeared in the corners of her eyes, although her lips didn't move. For a little moment she looked as if she were willing to continue the staring match, but after a while she lowered her gaze, buried her fingers in the loose strands at the back of my head, twisted them into an elegant knot and deftly secured it with a multitude of hairpins. After that she picked up a glittering tiara lying on the little makeup table and gently inserted it into my hair.

"Lo and behold, M'lady," she said meaningfully, cupped my face with calloused fingers and trained it towards the mirror in front of me.

I stared at the trussed-up, sleek, strange woman in the mirror.

"Lo and behold," she repeated, removed her hands and stepped back. The swishing of her skirt announced her leaving my room.

… and just what was that supposed to mean?

The woman in the mirror frowned. Immediately her air became imposing, almost menacing.

Dear Gods, I couldn't attend the reception looking like this!

With a conscious effort I relaxed the muscles of my face. Come on, smile! The Lord Chancellor of Mynar was to be charmed by a smile!

Corners of the mouth - up. Naw, too goofy. No teeth, then.

Smile? No. Looked liked I had a toothache.

Maybe I should think of something nice?

Smile.

Egads, I looked as if I was thinking of Van, chained to the wall and completely naked. Now there was a thought -

With difficulties I reigned my fantasy in. More saintly, please! Less strain on the corners…

There, that's more like it, isn't it? A tiny, secretive, barely-existant smile. Demure, but not innocent. Charming, but not flirty. Perfect for the evening!

One last glance at my reflection showed me once again the trussed-up, sleek, strange woman, the stranger who stood erect, wearing an obliging smile on her lips and nourishing a secret mission behind her gleaming façade.

And I wondered whether the impulsive, tomboyish and chaotic green-eyed gal would even believe what she had morphed into.

"Mylady Hitomi…?"

Urgh. No. Not again.

Don't look at me don't look at me don't -

"Ah, Mylady Hitomi!"

Busted. Darn.

The fake smile was getting easier and easier with every attempt, but this time it was almost painful to move my facial muscles.

I turned around slowly and saw - nothing. Ah, yes.

My gaze dropped and, sure enough, there he was. Short, squat, shiny and sanguine, with a neatly parted hairstyle that resembled nothing so much as a wig – which it probably was.

My Secret Mission.

He stood before me in all his ridiculous pompousness and waved a full glass under my nose.

"Your Excellence," I cried with the air of someone who'd just found a long-lost relative and was rewarded with a glass being thrust under my chin. He was too small to reach higher.

As unobstrusive as possible I retreated a step. There was something to be said about wide, floor-length skirts that hid one's feet, completely with grossly wrong dancing steps, whenever the situation required.

"Would you care for something to drink, Mylady? I brought you a glass of wine?" he smiled, neatly stepping in again. "It would help moisten your throat so we can continue the interesting conversation we had during supper."

Which had most notably consisted of him peering down his nose in an attempt to follow the trickle of glittering stones into the cleft between my pushed-up breasts with his eyes.

Curse Yone, and curse Van, too, while I was at it!

I took another subtle step back and lifted my hands.

"How very kind of you, Sir. Unfortunately, I do not drink alcoholic beverages."

Hell if I took something he offered. He might have spiked it.

"It is sad, really, that there is no possibility of getting a drop of the delicious berry punch from Derval here in Fanelia," I continued deviously, "I quite love it, and so do many others I know of. I'm sure it would be an immediate success; why won't these people be persuaded to export?"

Behind the stocky figure of the Lord Chancellor, I suddenly spotted a flash of deep scarlet.

If this was who I thought it was …

I took care to appear enraptured by the following droning speech on the intricacies of international trade while covertly risking a closer look over the top of his head.

Glossy, chestnut curls.

Tinkling laughter.

Stiliani!

And - oh! She was here with a man!

I shifted a bit to be able to see better. They were standing a few steps away, talking with some gold-dripping socialites I didn't recognize. From my vantage point I could only see that he had brunette hair, but he soon half-turned around and enabled me to take a good look at his person.

Low-key, supplied my mind immediately. A milk-faced young man whose arm she was clutching as if he might evaporate on her and who, apparently, couldn't believe his dumb luck, if the smouldering glances he shot her from beneath his long fringe were any indication.

I was so engrossed into watching him that I forgot to keep an eye on Stiliani. However, all of a sudden I felt a prickling in my neck and noticed that she had turned around and was watching me in turn. Our eyes locked for a moment.

My smile was as wide and affected as hers was, the cordial nod just as insincere.

The tables were turned.

And it felt horrible.

So that's how she must have felt back then. It seemed as if, in exchange for the improved position in Van's life, I had in turn inherited the instances of self-consciousness, pity and insecurity that went with it. Or had she, contrary to me, felt safe in her affections?

If that had been so, it must have been surprising to learn the truth, more painful.

The eye-contact between us only lasted a moment. Before I could have decided whether I should go and talk to her she'd whipped her head around and turned her back on me, rendering the question moot.

Her escort leaned down to her, whispered something into her ear and she shook her hair and unleashed the charms of her pearly-white teeth in another peal of laughter.

Happy? In love?

Nah.

Just disciplined.

Thanks to Van I no longer had the luxury of being ignorant of one of the most important pillars of diplomatic etiquette. To save face, to hide emotions, to always appear controlled was the most important thing, imbibed from infancy, trained, honed and perfected.

And Stiliani was the epitome of perfection and had always been. That was one thing I had never doubted.

The young paramour, the pretty, poor boy, screamed insignificance louder than Meruru screamed bloody murder when she was angry. A substitute that nobody was supposed to find out about. Not even him.

Now, with newly lost innocence it was impossible not to recognize the sham for what it was, not to see all the little signs of discomfort and pretence, the overly vehement swish of her head, slight jangle in her laughter, the barely noticeable shifting of weight...

... the tense silence around me ...

... the way my opposite had stopped talking, apparently waiting for an answer...

...

Darn.

An answer. I needed an aswer. And fast.

Weather? Conditions of the roads? No, politics. No, trade!

Definitely trade. Export business.

Say something. Anything. Come on!

Here goes -

"So, if I understood correctly, there is still no export market concerning berry punch from Derval?"

Short, embarassing pause.

"Yeees," the Lord Chancellor replied tightly, visibly struggling to maintain his façade of affability, "and, as I already mentioned, this is a factor that hopefully the international agreement on free trade that the heads of state are about to negotiate soon is going to rectify..."

So not in the right ballpark.

I felt a flush rise into my cheeks and bit my lips. Hopefully my inattentiveness had not busted Fanelian's relations to Mynar!

Impulsively I threw my head back and laughed boisterously.

"This will be proof enough, I hope, to convince you of my ignorance concerning international trade, Sir!" I shouted and triumphantly watched his eyes flicker towards my bared throat, leaving tiny little footprints all over my cleavage.

"Ah, Mylady Hitomi, young ladies like yourself have better things to do than to worry about business," he was his oily self again and reached casually for my hand which I, just as casually, snatched out of his reach under the pretense of wanting to adjust my hair-do.

He didn't seem to notice, just kept proffering his hand and said,"Now, Mylady, I am sure you will not oppose to passing your time in a much pleasanter way than talking about economics. May I have the pleasure of the next dance?"

My cheek muscles started smarting in an attempt to not let the smile slip into a horrified grimace.

Refusing to dance with him would be considered to be awfully rude. Another blunder, however, was something I could not afford.

I was neatly trapped.

Inwardly cursing Fanelia's anachronistic formality that even put Victorian England to shame, while at the same time carefully rearranging my features, I was just about to lay my fingertips into his palm as a familiar, cultivated tenor behind me spoke up and caused me to jump in surprise.

"I am deeply sorry to interrupt, Mylord, but the lady has already promised me the first waltz of the evening. I believe this is when I must stake my claim on her hand."

Dimly I noticed that, sure enough, the band was already plaing an irresistible intro in three quarter time. The rest of my mind was occupied elsewhere.

Gloved fingers gently wrapped around my forearm. The nerves in my stomach twitched.

Damn him. Damn him for – again – saving me in the nick of time.

I was safe - for now.

At which price would remain to be seen.

Hiding my uneasy thoughts behind an apologetic smile and contrite nod towards the hoodwinked Lord Chancellor, I slowly turned around.

"You look radiant tonight, Hitomi, if I may dare say so," Allen Shezar said, bowing over my hand while picking up a purposeful stride towards the dancing floor.

"Thank you," I said cautiosly, hyper-aware of the touch of his skin on mine. What about the 'conditioning'?

At that moment Allen let my fingers slide out of his until my arm dropped limply to my side as if nothing had happened.

A breath I didn't know I'd been holding sighed from between my lips. Casual conversation. Good.

"That's no small thanks to you that I am even here tonight," I began, looking at him earnestly. "I am grateful for you having saved Van's and my skin during the attack on Abaddon's fortress. I doubt we would have made it on our own."

"You do not need to thank me. It has been an honour and gratification to be able to contribute to your rescue," he replied evenly. The old, easy charm and confidence.

"Still, you risked your life. The place was teeming with enemies; you could have been killed."

"I owe my service, my sword hand and my life to Fanelia and her King," Allen said primly, "Especially after the outrageous behaviour I have previously shown towards His Majesty I owe -"

He suddenly stopped speaking and coloured.

"What?" I cried, "This is nonsense, what kind of outrageous behaviour would that have been? And when…hey!"

With a decisive motion he took my hand, swung me around to face him, put his other arm around my waist and paced us into the dance. For a few moments I was struggling to get my feet into the appropriate motion. The long, wide skirts didn't help much.

However, once I had everything under control, I was burning to resume the conversation. He couldn't mean -

"You mean the afternoon back when … ooomph!"

A sudden change of direction almost made us collide with another couple. Allen jerked me out of their path, nodded towards them and said clearly "Please excuse my clumsiness!" before sverving us towards the middle of the room.

As a rule, Allen was not clumsy. Allen was never clumsy.

I inhaled. "But you are not -"

"This is really a beautiful party," he interrupted me, "I must not forget paying the king my compliments. It surpasses any other occasion I have ever been lucky enough to attend."

- and exhaled without continuing my sentence.

Understood. So I was right. He was talking about the afternoon on which he'd kissed me, right in front of Van's eyes. And he clearly didn't want to talk to me about it. Aren't you two secretive little bastards, you and Van? Van …

Something clicked into place.

… So that was the matter between Van and Allen! Either Allen was trying to make amends for making a move on me or Van had demanded some form of satisfaction. It had to be, it was the kind of thing Van would want to keep from me!

But - I'd always thought I had been the one to fault for the incident. After all, I had practically thrown myself at Allen. And - Van knew that. He'd said he'd understood. He'd said -

".. ever since Folken has been influencing him with Dornkirk's machine, Shezar changed a lot. Folken should never have played with human minds."

Van's voice, clear and sober.

Another voice joined him, deep, gravelly and brittle. The voice of a man I'd thought of as the enemy, when in fact he'd been nothing more than an old, disillusioned man deceived…

"Now, let me see the power of the fate that attracts."

Puzzle pieces started connecting. Gudrun's conditioning - I was helpless to stop it.

"My heart won't allow me to keep this secret, because I love you now."

"You are probably the first to refuse my advances …"

"It will grant everybody's wishes and create a zone of absolute happiness…"

"Were it not for the fact that I owed him loyalty as my liege, I would…"

"I'm going to make him pay for causing you such pain. I take you back, Hitomi, and I will make you smile again like you did when you were mine…"

And then, loudest of all, with words that stood out like a beacon now:

"… classical conditioning …"

Oh, God, I knew.

"Dornkirk's fate generator!" I blurted out.

The world came to a standstill. Allen blanched and cringed, several people around us stopped and stared, but right now I didn't care. I'd found their secret!

"That's why you haven't been yourself lately, isn't it?" I demanded, lowering my voice to a hiss. "The fate generator messed with your mind. That's what was going on between Van and you and that's why you were with the physician, too. Am I right?"

If possible, Allen lost even more colour.

"Y-you know about my visit? Have you been following me?" he demanded weakly.

"I didn't follow you on purpose," I defended myself. "I work at the hospital tract and had come to see my patients ..."

- of course I kept quiet about the fact that I had still eavesdropped at the door. He didn't need to know that -

"… and you two were walking past me. Gods, Allen, I knew something had to be wrong, but I couldn't figure out what! After all these years … but …it can be fixed, right? He's going to fix it. Isn't he?"

I clasped my fingers around his forearms and tried to peer into his eyes, but he stiffened and pulled back. Did Van put him under pressure?

"Aw, come on, I'm not going to tell anybody," I said and gestured towards the direction of the High Table, "It's just that many things make sense now. You are going to let him treat it, aren't you?"

Allen jerked backwards.

"I think this conversation has lasted long enough," he said shakily. He looked frighteningly upset; I immediately drew back my fingers as if burned.

What was going on here? He couldn't be -

Heartbroken? Angry? Offended?

'Embarassed?' my mind supplied. Aw, shit …

He was already straightening himself out of a hasty bow, already turning on his heel to leave. Blonde hair swirled like a whiplash.

My pulse jumped into my throat. Not again!

"Wait! I'm sorry," I quickly said, reached for his arm and caught his sleeve. "Wait!"

"Let go, Hitomi," he demanded irritably, but I clung on determinedly. I had to fix this. Now.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to humiliate you or anything. I tried to find out what was wrong with you, because I wanted to help you. Because you are my friend."

True enough, I consoled myself. Come on, puppy eyes, work for me …

Seconds passed until he finally stopped struggling and lowered his head as if in defeat.

"You were the last person on this world who was supposed to find out," he said with a still-shaky voice. "I do not appreciate being spied on. Next time you want to know something, ask."

"Promise," I answered as earnestly as I could, "and, really, I swear I didn't mean to humiliate you. After all, the whole situation is my fault. If I had not come running after you like a lovesick schoolgirl, Dornkirk would not have tried to mess with both of us."

Allen winced.

I mentally slapped myself.

Diplomatic phrasing: Dreadful.

"My fault," I repeated. "I'll stop talking now. Really."

After what seemed like an eternity he finally nodded, but didn't reply and still didn't look at me directly, so I finally decided to leave the topic alone for good. I'd already stretched his forbearance as far as it would go; I didn't want to lose him like I lost Yukari. Hopefully I was wiser now!

I'd find a way to make amends to him, but at first I'd be satified if I could resume our conversation and some semblance of understanding.

He still was tense beneath my hand, so, convinced he wasn't going to run away, I let go of his arm.

We were still standing in the middle of the dancing floor, but somehow, dancing with each other, to be up close with each other's face and in each other's arms, seemed too intimate an action for what had just happened.

"Come on, let's got get something to drink," I suggested and gestured towards the refreshment area. Anything would do to dispel the awkwardness of the situation.

"Contrary to what I told the Lord Chancellor just before you came to save me, I do feel the need for something stronger than just water, if just to stuff my face and keep me from spouting more nonsense than I already have."

He let out his breath in a long sigh and relaxed marginally.

"I have never heard of alcohol curing that kind of thing," he muttered and started walking off the dancing floor. "What is the time?"

"Twenty minutes to midnight," I replied after a fleeting glance at the nearest clepsydra. "The ceremony is going to start soon, isn't it?"

He nodded, steering towards the general direction of the refreshment tables, sverving around an increasing number of guests.

In fact, the room was packed. When had all these people materialized?

I wove through a gaggle of festively clad nobility, who were talking nineteen to the dozen at the top of their voices, and hurried to get back to his side.

"So," I said to keep up the conversation, "have you already seen the ceremony? Do you know what happens?"

"Well, it is the greeting of the winter solstice," he replied curtly and elbowed his way to the nearest table. "From this day on the days are going to grow longer and the nights shorter. People celebrate the reawakening of light."

He neatly stepped through a gap in the throng of people and disappeared. A moment later he came up with two long-stemmed glasses, filled with purple liquid, one of which he handed to me.

"Fanelia's best burgundy," he said and lifted his glass a fraction in a barely-noticeable toast.

"Thank you," I replied and pointedly lifted my glass into his direction, "To friendship!"

Hesitantly he nodded. Our glasses clinked together.

The first tentative sip revealed the wine to have a full, fruity aroma and not a small quantity of alcohol. I had to be careful.

Lowering the glass I directed my attention back to the man standing in front of me and who trailed his eyes on his glass, his hands, the surrounding people, anywhere but me.

"Reawakening of light?" I gently prodded him.

He nodded, lifted his face, but his gaze still skittered across me like a foot slipping on ice.

"This is the darkest day of the year, but at the same time it marks the definite return of the sun. It symbolizes reasonable hope, fulfilment of promises, the keeping of bonds, I think."

He pulled his face into a weird grimace, half-smile, half-cringe. "Honor and reliability. You can probably guess why this is the most important day around here."

"Most definitely," I assured him. "Is this what the ceremony is about? The closing of a … deal of sorts? With the gods?"

Now he really almost smiled.

"What I said about closing bonds was meant more figuratively, Hitomi. It is true that many people seem to view this as an auspicuous day for closing of treaties or perfoming of marriages, but the spiritual ceremony is nothing of this sort. It is more about -"

"It is more about little Hitomi getting slapped than anything else!" a familiar, obnoxious voice completed his sentence.

The long brocade dress swirled around my knees as I quickly turned to face the speaker.

"What are you talking about, violent moggie?"

Meruru bared her teeth and shoved her face into mine so that I was able to spot little golden dots in her irises.

"Don't take that tone with me, Missy! You were expected to come to the High Table twenty minutes ago. I have better things to do than scurry after you so you better come without a fuss. Hurry up!"

"Wait! Nobody told me -!"

Too late. Her hand shot towards me, clawed fingers wrapping around my wrist as she abruptly yanked me towards her.

It was impossible to keep my balance in these heavy and voluminous skirts. I teetered, the purple liquid in my glass sloshing over the rim with the movement. Instinctively I flung out my arm to keep it from soiling my dress and prepared to kiss the floor.

"Hitomi!"

Suddenly as an arm wrapped around my waist and I found myself pulled up and backwards against a hard chest. The wine glass was plucked out of my hand and the scent of Allen's cologne filled my nostrils.

"Ooof," he said as my shoulder hit his solar plexus. His voice was suddenly close to my ear. Very close. So was his warm breath against my cheek.

I twisted around in his grip, adrenalin still in my blood and my free hand flat and half-raised. He looked almost as shocked as I felt, almost as if he'd surprised himself.

It must have been an automatism. Then again …

Meruru's voice interrupted my musings. "Look, I'm sorry about that, Hitomi," she said with an edge of panic in her voice, "but we don't have the time for this. Will you come?"

Then again, he had always been chivalrous, no matter who he dealt with. It didn't have to signify anything special. But …

I was once again tugged around, pulled away from Allen and frog-marched away, but I struggled against the cat woman's iron grip to turn back towards him. He was still standing frozen, a wine glass in each hand, staring after us with a mixture of confusion and sheepishness on his face.

"Thank you," I shouted and, "Sorry about that."

…but if he cared enough to want to save me from an ungainly tumble to the floor or a couple of indignified stains on my dress, he couldn't be so very mad at me anymore, could he?

And at the last possible moment, just when Meruru dragged me through a cloud of greenish smoke that caused me to break out in coughs, just when I turned my head back to be able to see where I was headed, I thought I saw a raised hand and a weak smile hovering around finely chiseled lips.

It gave me hope for the future.

With a considerably lighter heart I was able to concentrate on following my own personal, clawed sentry. Her bright shock of hair was flashing in and out of view almost teasingly and at such a speed that I had difficulties keeping up with her. I hardly noticed where I went until I found my path suddenly flanked by the High Table.

Tugging my arm out of Meruru's grip I slowed down, looking around.

Ahead of us a large group of people was standing congregated at one end of the long board. Dark ochre robes and bald heads of local clergy dominated the scene, but a few colourful dots of festive worldly clothing scattered about the pile interrupted their intimidating monotony.

Meruru stopped in her tracks and turned her head this way and that, tail lashing nervously and nostrils flaring.

"Over here," she said impatiently and reached for my wrist once more. She pulled me through a throng of conversing monks, sverved around a thickset Council member who reeked of sweat and then gave me a final push that caused me to stumble towards a broad-shouldered figure swathed in midnight blue and gold who was standing with his back turned to us.

"Brother," she hissed and the figure turned around.

Van was, once again, as intimidating in his regal attire as he was fetching. However, the closer I approached him, the more I felt tension rolling off him like shockwaves of an earthquake. There was a scowl spread on his features like a bruise on a peach.

After a short glance at Meruru his gaze shifted towards me. My guts jolted as burgundy-coloured irises bore into mine heatedly. This was most definitely the best time of day to keep one's mouth shut.

For a moment I thought he'd send me away again, but then he briskly jerked his chin. Come.

"Now go to Lord Van and don't screw up. Just mimick what he does," Meruru commanded under her breath and gave me another prod. "No, don't turn around, don't say anything, just go! Quickly!"

Right then the band finished their piece of music with a flourish and anticipatory silence descended over the large room. With an uncomfortable churning sensation spreading from the region of my stomach that couldn't possibly be stagefright, I slunk to the King's side and slipped behind him, once more the uncomfortable tingling of being watched at the back of my neck.

What was I even doing here?

A wispy-looking, very old man, marked by his attire as a high-ranking priest, separated from the gaggle of monks and hobbled towards some kind of altar that had been erected in front of the large window facing East. A pair of enormous golden – prongs, for lack of better word – was flanked by a low table. Four golden, long-stemmed, smoking golden censers enframed a space about as large as my room.

Four monks were following the High Priest, carrying trays covered with crimson drapery on outstretched arms.

The spectators' excited murmurs filled the athmospere as the priest reached the altar and bowed low, palms of his hands pressed together before his chest.

The monks closed in on him, placed their trays onto the low tabletop and started to unveil bundles, goblets and bowls. Two of them went to the incense burners, holding large - fans? -, starting to kindle what had to be glowing charcoals until I could see the faint flicker of flames licking the air, the other two appeared to unwrap wads of long, pointed, strong-looking green leaves.

By the time all four monks pulled back, preparations apparently completed, and stationed themselves in a loose circle around the altar, the chattering died down to give way to a subtle, rumbling murmur.

The priest turned to face the room and spread his arms wide. With a brittle, tinny voice he started to speak; long-winded, ceremonious – and completely cryptic.

I didn't understand a single word.

Was this even Fanelian he was speaking? The mumbling, warbling utterings were so different from the consonant-happy, rough-sounding language I'd so often heard from Van and his countrymen.

Some dialect, maybe? Or a ceremonial language?

It suddenly struck me that this was the first religious function I'd ever attended since I'd arrived on Gaia. Well, I'd attended a few, but had always been part of the group who had left after the meal. To be part of the privileged group who was able to watch the ceremony from up-close was a new and puzzling experience.

This spiritual framework was from now on going to be part of my life.

I'd better learn its rules.

A discreet glance right and left convinced me that, for now, nothing was expected from the audience. Everybody was staring, rapt, at the proceedings. Van, slightly ahead and left of me, stood rigid, face lying in the shadows of his long forelock.

My thinking went off-tangent again.

The Silent Treatment? Kingly Discretion? Nobody-Mess-With-Me? Or was it I'm-So-Highly-Strung-I-Will-Implode-If-You-Direct-A-Single-Word-At-Me?

If I could take a look at his face it'd be easy to determine his current state of mine, but to decrypt his posture alone would probably take me as long as it'd taken me to be able to read his face.

A queer, caterwauling noise induced me to turn my eyes back to the front.

The priest's frail body was vibrating as he chanted and swayed, both arms spread wide as if he meant to embrace the whole crowd. Behind him, one of the monks threw thick bundles of the green leaves onto the censers. Tangy-smelling smoke rose from them and was fanned across the room.

My nostrils twitched.

It scented familiar, but only barely. Neither like incense sticks nor like the musty aroma that reminded me of a Christian church I'd once visited. If that notion were not sentimental and ludicrous, I'd have thought it reminded me of my mother before she met that man, warm, protective and homey.

Another cloud wafted towards me; I took a deep breath. The pungent smell prickled in my nose.

So … nice.

It caused a fuzzy, light-headed feeling inside me, everything was softer, easier. Even the monotonous chanting didn't really disturb me anymore, had become melodic and comforting.

Everything was fine.

Now if only the floor would stop tilting under my feet, I wouldn't have to keep my balance so much. Then again, I could just lay down, the floor looked so nice and cozy and maybe this tilting feeling would vanish if I closed my eyes, just for a little bit …

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the comfortable drowsiness was disrupted by a stinging pain in my arm. My eyes shot open, muzzily I stared down at … huh?

A gloved hand was posed above my forearm, fingers still digging into my skin. A gloved hand that led to a velvet-covered arm and a cape-draped shoulder and -

"Van?" I whispered, baffled.

"Sage", he replied quietly, "aromatic and, incidentally, slightly hallucinogen."

Oh.

"Are you saying that I'm basically … stoned?" I asked blankly, feeling heat creep across my ears and neck.

I could've sworn I spotted his nose crinkle ever so slightly.

"Burnt to cleanse body and mind. For a new beginning," he explained and turned his face away slightly, "Concentrate on the ground you are standing on, it will pass soon."

Not yet trusting myself to speak, I merely considered myself grateful about that fact that, this time, I was not to blame for anything stupid I'd done, and shifted ever-so-slightly so I could see his face better.

His next whispered words words were, therefore, easier to understand.

"Where were you? I expected you to be here a while ago!"

"I was right here. Nobody told me I was supposed to come!" I hissed, bothered by the lightly reproachful tinge in his voice. He didn't look convinced. "Believe me, if I'd known, I would've been on time. I have never let you down before, haven't even questioned any of your orders, as weird as some of them were."

He turned his head a fraction towards me. Burgundy eyes met mine from the corners of his eyes, searching, but not piercing. He just looked at me.

Defiantly I held his gaze.

Nothing to hide, especially not from him.

I'd done everything for him. I would keep doing so.

And somehow, oddly, it seemed to be enough.

After what seemed like an eternity he nodded once and turned his face back to the front. A tiny frisson of relief ran up my back.

"And while we're at it," I added quietly, "you will have no difficulties procuring Mynar's positive vote. Its Lord Chancellor has the best opinion if the world of Fanelia and its amenities. It wasn't even an insurmoutable challenge to boot. You see, I'm not as hopeless as you think I am."

This time I was sure I saw his chest heave and chin muscles twitch. Even his reply sounded a little strangled.

"That is … very good to hear."

How odd. Van, laughing. Or cringing.

I thought of a good retort to his last words, eager to keep up the light, humorous mood. As I inhaled, however, he turned his face away with a definitive air. That's when I noticed the people around us had suddenly grown very still.

My eyes trailed to the front where the priest had stopped chanting and was now standing stiff, arms raised. All noises died down completely, one could hear the proverbial pin drop.

The old man was standing in the centre of the square formed by the four censers. One of the monks handed him a small bowl, filled with something that looked like cereal. He took it, gravely bowed into all four directions, thanked the elements that represented them.

Earth, Air, Fire and Water.

Ceremonially he offered them last year's crop and begged them for their continued protection during the year to come. Asked them to lend assistance and to offer food, health and good luck.

This was it.

I could have sworn something was happening. Despite myself I could feel the solemnity of the occasion infecting me.

'Reasonable hope', Allen had said. Fulfilment of promises. Forging of bonds. A new beginning.

Last year's pain and suffering must have been good for something.

I'd nearly killed myself, forfeited all hope for happiness in the future. In the last possible moment I'd seen the errors of my ways, learned my lessons and was hopefully on my way to betterment.

Sure, I was still far away from reaching my goal, if my conversation with Allen had been any indication. But I'd already gone a long way. Worked hard. Sacrificed my pride on a number of occasions. Paid reparations.

It was time for some kind of reward.

If this was what this function was about, I should maybe close my own bond.

Silently, but insistently, I formulated my own requests.

Please - give me a sign. Show me I'm on the right way. Prove me that the light is coming back.

Take my devotion. Give me your protection in turn.

Bond with me.

To the sound of a large gong the High Priest ambled towards the large prongs that framed the spot where the rising sun was going to appear first thing in the morning.

He wrapped his long, spidery fingers around the construction, one hand on each branch, and started chanting a spell that was supposed to bind the sun to this world, keep it from submerging ever again.

The resurrection of light.

With closed eyes I stood next to Van, complete silence reigning around us, and waited for its warmth to brush my face.

In the end it took hours for the party to wind down.

Even more time passed before I was relieved of my task to oversee the accomodation of the guests, organize cleanup and was cleared to –finally!- head towards my room.

By the time I turned the key in my lock and pulled open the heavy door, I was barely able to stand upright. The lure of a freshly-aired bed became overpowering.

I let go of the door latch, kicked pinching high heels off my feet, stumbled towards my expansive bed and slumped bonelessly into clouds of soft, cool sheets that smelled faintly of washing detergent.

The chamber maids must have replaced them today. Ooo, heaven!

The hissing of blood in my ear slowly abated as silence and peace descended over the dark room.

My eyes fell shut, head pleasantly empty.

Sleep; I needed at least twelve hours of sleep.

In a last lucid moment I'd cornered Yone and given her explicit orders; nobody was, by promise of painful retribution, supposed to disturb me unless the castle collapsed, and maybe not even then. No early rising, no tasks, no diplomacy. Nobody was about to knock at my door tomorrow.

My mind shrouded itself into sluggish fog and my body became so heavy that it appeared to sink into the mattress.

Finally …

Not even this quiet chuckling was able to rouse me from -

Hang on. Chuckle?

Chuckle. Someone was chuckling.

Funny. I'd thought I was alone. If only I could summon the energy to lift those leaden lids a bit and ...

"You are lucky I do not mean you any harm," an amused voice flowed through the silence like a velvet ribbon. "If I were a thief or an assassin, it would be child's play for me to overwhelm you. The door to the room unlocked, inhabitant, covered in jewels, sound asleep …"

And he sounded like Van. Huh.

"Don't care," I mumbled. "Let them steal, pillage, burn, just as long as they don't wake me I'll be fine."

Another chuckle.

"This will not do, Hitomi. You have not even removed your dress and jewelry."

I felt the mattress tilt slightly as a warm weight settled down on its edge. Van's dry, calloused fingers carefully tugged the tiara off before picking through my hair and deliberately pulling out the hairpins holding everything in place.

The soft touch triggered a delightful tingling sensation in my scalp and I moaned in bliss.

"You return me to life, do you know that?"

The stroking persisted.

"Was it so bad?"

"Too much information to be kept in mind at the same time."

"You will get used to it."

"Mmmmf. Too many people wanting to talk to me."

"Put them in order, then. Not everybody's concern is of immediate relevancy."

"Too much politics."

"Necessary evil, love. You did very well."

"I didn't get to see you!" I wanted to shout, but all that left my throat was a pathetic whine.

"All these preparations and I got to see you for measly fifteen minutes! After the ceremony you were suddenly gone and that ghastly lecher came for me and I barely got rid of him. And the preparations and I'm so tired, so damn tired. It was work, work, work, look at this, decide that and I didn't get to treat my patients, I haven't taken any more lessons, I haven't accomplished anything."

The even movement of his fingers against my hair stopped. For several moments there was no immediate response. My mood reached a temparature below zero.

"I must admit to having been wondering for some time now," he said cautiously, "why you keep insisting on working in the hospital section. There is no need to sustain youself, you know, and no need to prove yourself either. Not even to me. Especially not to me."

It turned out to be too exhausting to keep up even a weak semblance of anger. His earnest tone effectively deflated my little bubble of anger.

In addition, his was a valid question. It warranted an equally serious reply.

With some effort I dragged my head away from my pillow and rolled over to face him. He sat on the edge of my mattress, devoid of his usual regalia, just in a loose white cambric shirt and pants and a small pile of hairpins in the hollow of his palms. Pale yellow light came seeping in through the windowpanes, reflected off his hair and alighted one half of his face.

No crown, no coat, no weapons and no attitude.

Just Van.

He looked oddly misplaced there, perched gingerly on my bed. Awkward.

Unfamiliar.

Duh. How often had I seen him sitting on my bed? In my room?

How about never before?

My heart filled with aching affection. Why would I want to quarrel with him?

I struggled into a sitting position, wordlessly extended my arms, wrapped them around his neck and held tight.

"I know that, love," I murmured against his temple. "But I need to prove something to myself, even if it's exhausting. It's my way of coming to terms with everything that's happened. Can you understand that?"

The muscles in his shoulders relaxed and a long sigh brushed the side of my head.

"I am not surprised. You have a tendency to overcompensate when there really is no need to compensate at all."

His voice sounded a tiny bit ruefully, but I wasn't moved.

"My position as a healer is entirely mine. My work, my merit. I need to know that I can finish what I started and use my powers for something worthwhile. I'm not giving it up. Ever."

He pulled away and straightened up, fixing me with a inquisitorial glance that left a tingling path on my skin. My fingers moved on their own accord, tracing the contours of a dishevelled lock curving around the shell of his ear while I continued to speak quietly.

"Not that it does in any way concern my duties towards you," I said. "I'll fulfil every single of your secret agendas for you. I'll even seduce King Aston or convert Dryden to Asceticism if you ask me to. And I will manage. I am no longer a pushover."

He didn't reply, but his intent look didn't waver either. Oh, he knew what I didn't tell him, no doubt about that. He always did. The question was whether, this time, he believed me capable of persevering.

As always, his face didn't give away anything. An impenetrable mask.

However, Van's carefully maintained façade had, under certain conditions, already cracked once. As far as I was concerned, it was supposed to crack more often and more thoroughly. And he should not, should never again, be allowed to re-seal these cracks.

I was going to smash his mask to pieces. With love.

My fingers wrapped around his upper arms, wandered up his shoulders, as carefully as a child feeding a spooked bird. Loosely, so that he was able to pull away if he wanted to, I wound my arms around his neck once more and brought my face close to his. In the dim lighting his eyes were fathomless dots of ink in his face.

The warm, steady stream of his breath ghosted across the tip of my nose as I tilted my head and kissed him.

He was firm and dry, slightly chapped velvet against my skin that tasted faintly of wine. I took my time nipping at his lips, lightly brushing the tip of my tongue against the corners of his mouth.

To my surprise he reciprocated the embrace, tilted his head and hesitantly started to squeeze back.

My body responded automatically, closing my lips over his, again and again, sending a jolt of electricity through my guts every time we parted.

Hairpins clattered to the floor. None of us even bothered to turn our heads.

It was delicious. So relaxed, so nice, so familiar. No awkward fumbling or bumping of noses against each other. We'd found the steps to our dance, its rhythm and measure.

Van held me firmly, palms resting on my hipbones with certainty, thumbs drawing tiny circles on the cloth of my dress in synch with the movement of his lips.

He was willing to forego discretion for a short moment of time and just enjoy the moment. For that knowledge alone I would've survived ten days' worth of receptions, parties, conferences and, maybe, probably, Yone's tasks.

He was here.

He wanted this.

He wanted me.

And I wanted him. Gods, how I wanted him!

Already his closeness was affecting my mind. I was now locked in his arms instead of the other way around, couldn't move away, even if I'd wanted to, while he attacked my lips with smooth aggression.

Each stroke of his lips against my mouth, my chin, my neck, triggered a tiny pulse in my lower stomach.

My breathing grew heavy. So did my body.

I was melting all over the place, melting over him. My every cell dissolved, merged with Van's, taking on his aura, smell, temperature, his rhythm of breathing, before returning into my own body. It was impossible to tell where he ended and I began or where I began and he ended.

Breathing was unnecessary; Van was my breath. Excitement was my energy, physical contact my food. Of which I needed more, so much more, because I was starving.

No, I was ravenous.

My fingers scrabbled across crumpled cloth, pulling and tugging until they gained smooth skin. Slid over hard muscles, a knobbly spine, shark fins of shoulder blades.

No fat, just muscles and skin and bone and sinew and mineallmineallmine.

Van sighed into my mouth.

If I'd died, I couldn't have cared less.

A jagged ridge. Scar tissue.

Rough palms shoving the shaft of a long-sleeved glove down my arm, trailing behind a breeze of cool night air that tickled newly bared skin. He always went for my wrists, always.

I should have been ashamed of the pale, scarred tissue that gave testimony of my greatest downfall. But when he touched me there, it felt so delicious, like he was touching my core.

And I, in turn, was touching his. A pair of twin scars, ugly and twisted and beautiful, another part of what I wanted, without exception, without foul compromise.

My whole body was straining against him. A churning, aching tug between my thighs while my hands still wandered on.

Long scars. It had to hurt like hell. It had to bleed, whenever gleaming feathers broke skin. These large, strong, shimmering wings, tainted with drops of blood. Sore muscles afterwards, resulting from the unfamiliar strain of carrying a heavy load. Beauty and pain.

My Van.

Lips in the crook of my arm where my blood was thrumming close to the surface.

Intimacy.

My fingertips inched over the knotted tissue with the lightest of touches. He shuddered so violently that his chin knocked against my jawbone.

I gasped -

- and unexpected coldness. Without warning my arms were empty.

Noooo!

Still dazed, I reached for him.

Van twitched back, his face hidden behind a tousled fringe; barbed wire made of metallic black hair. Oily black shadows started to drown his features, hiding an increasing portion of it in fathomless depths into which I couldn't reach.

My fingers jerked away from his scars as if burned, moved to the small of his back, but it was already too late.

Faster that I could say anything he had my free arm pinned against the headboard, the other captured firmly against his chest. His head hung so low that I could only see his trembling chin muscles; his visibly shaking fingers.

Could I have seen his eyes, they would have been blood-red and stormy.

Could I have visualized what was going on in his mind, I would've been able to watch sheer willpower wrestle surging emotions to subdue them, control them, restore the mask. There was no doubt as to who was going to turn out the victor.

The moment was irrevocably lost.

My shoulders slumped in defeat. It felt like sinking into mud.

Frustration didn't even come close.

My usual determination was buried under the rubble of bone-deep exhaustion.

I felt nothing except sheer disillusionment.

"All right, " I muttered, "I assume you'd like to - uuuumph?"

It was like being caught under an avalanche. A calloused hand grabbed my chin, forced it up and then his mouth was upon mine, hungry, almost rough.

There was no time to think; no time to prepare for the onslaught of sensations his kiss triggered. His intensity burned me to cinder and ashes.

I heard an indistinctive moan and recognized the voice as mine; the world tilted away and the rational part of my brain stated that my body was now poured over the cushions like liquid jelly.

"Why?" I panted as we parted, gasping for air. His full lips twisted into a smile against mine and chased gooseflesh across my scalp.

"I was about to lose courage," he whispered."Forgive me if I overdid it. I am sure you understand."

A surge of hysterical laughter, half-triggered by sheer relief, was muffled by another kiss.

This time he poured himself into it without reservations. I could feel it in the way he cuddled against me, willingly opened his mouth at my wordless demand and let my fingers roam freely.

And as he flipped us over and sank into the mattress, giving up the the dominant position to me, the one tiny fraction of my mind that was not preoccupied with how best to remove his shirt without breaking the kiss was only capable of formulating the shortest, simplest of prayers imaginable:

Sign received. Thank you.

"You can't stay, can you?" I asked, much later, as I lay with my head in the crook of his arm.

"No," The resonance of his voice vibrated against my cheek. It sounded regretful, but firm.

Ouch.

It was not as if I had not expected this, but still ...

"Do you have an appointment? Or is this for propriety's sake?"

"Hitomi..." he warned gently, but a flat dismissal after all we'd just shared was more than I was able to bear. I stuggled up, pulled the neckline of my corset back into line and turned around halfway to watch him from the corner of my eye.

"I'm not asking you to sleep with me! I just want you to stay a little. We barely see each other for more than a few consecutive seconds. We are both responsible adults, Van, what - ow!"

His long fingers wrapped around my wrist, hard; his tone tight, clipped, almost angry.

"Have you ever spent a single thought about what would happen if I were to be found sleeping in your bed, Hitomi?"

Oh, people would be positvely shocked to see you are a normal young man in a normal relationship, I thought sullenly, but only said loudly: "Your reputation would be ruined?"

Van's eyebrows skyrocketed.

"My reputation? No, Hitomi. Not mine. Yours. No, don't say it!" he interrupted me before I was able to pronounce another word. "You have been a member of this court long enough to be familiar with the ways people are thinking. You can certainly imagine what would happen if half the staff came trampling into your room in the morning to find me in your bed, regardless of what really happened."

We could be careful. We could take care to wake early. You could leave in time and I could go and check for possible watchers. In the early morning the castle is relatively deserted, isn't it? You could fly, surely the guards wouldn't look up just then. Would they?

Van was already standing up and struggling into his diaphanous shirt. His voice sounded slightly muffled.

"And what if you got pregnant? People will not forgive or forget this kind of thing easily."

I'm not that careless. I'm not a slut. There's contraceptives, isn't there, and I said I didn't expect you to -

"In any case," he concluded, aleady halfway to the door and whirling around with flashing eyes, "We must not be seen like that. I'm not going to stand for you to be held cheap and I am not letting you discard the standing and reputation you have worked hard to achieve out of pig-headedness."

Pig-headedness? PIG-HEADEDNESS? And this is Lone Wolf I'm-not-speaking-to-you-instead-I'm-behaving-like-an-asshole-to-drive-you-away-so-you're-safe-from-potentially-deadly-assaults-on-my-person-Van-Fanel speaking?

"And this," my mouth said, "is how it's going to be in the future?"

Huh?

Where had that ...?

"I ... I am afraid I do not understand, Hitomi," Van said irritably.

You never do. You don't want to. It's all so crystal clear in your head and there's no need to send me a memo because YOU ARE THE KING AND HEAVEN FORBID A KING SHOWS SOME EMOTION AND I'M JUST ANOTHER SUBORDINATE WHO DOESN'T NEED TO KNOW IN WHICH WAY YOU'LL FINALLY DEIGN TO SHARE YOUR LIFE WITH HER AND -

"So we will keep sneaking around like a pair of teenagers, trying to see each other in secret and always worrying about getting caught?" my mouth continued while my mind insisted that I did want to be a spiteful tart, thank you very much, and where did that stupid freaking rational voice come from?

Red irises bore into my eyes.

"Yes, "Van replied heavily, "this is how it is going to be. For now."

And who cared whether Van stalked out of the room and hencetoforth spent his nights practicing swordsmanship or archery, because his weapons at least didn't start petty arguments and didn't expect him to break his anachronistic, misanthropic-

"I know this is asking for much in the face of your recent progress," Van continued firmly, holding my gaze with his. "But I must insist you begin to exert some sense of patience. The cannon is the skeleton key of the impatient, instead of opening doors it buries them under rubble. Are there any doors you remember having almost wrecked recently?"

-set of morals that - huh? What kind of doors was he -

A brown-nosed, indiscreet assumption. A flurry of blonde hair, trailing behind a friend I almost lost.

But how had Van…?

A glint in the corner of his eyes told me all I needed to know.

Disbelief, shock, then an exasperated snort of laughter washed away the last remnants of indignation. Grudgingly I had to admit that, if I'd ever needed proof that the impulsive boy from five years ago had grown into an experienced politician, that was it.

For now, I conceded defeat and lowered my raised hackles.

"All right. All right. You win, I lose. So we'll be sneaking around like a pair of lovesick teenagers."

His shoulder sagged and teeth glinted in the dim lighting.

One step, two steps, then he was standing in front of me and laid a careful palm on my forearm. "Thank you for your understanding," he said quietly and leaned his forehead against mine.

Warmth started to seep into my stiff body. It became increasingly easy to reign in the roiling storm. The first smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

"I'm warning you, though, Van. I'm not going to put up with mere sneaking for very long. I'll keep you on your toes."

Warm lips against my nose were smiling, his aura rolling against mine in slow, indolent waves.

"You always do, love."

Despite his teasing tone, the laughter in his voice was heart-stopping and sincere. "You are the epitome of tenacity, Mylady Hitomi of the bulldog spirit. Have been, still are and will be in the future. I'm counting on you."

And I understood.

Possessively my fingers travelled up his flanks and shipped waves and dents of defined muscles under soft cloth. Mine.

"I accept," I said against his jawbone. "Let's seal the deal, then."

.

..

…

Later, much later, a huge splotch of red appeared on the edge of my vision, climbing over the horizon, growing larger and larger and with each minute bringing more daylight into our lives.

To Be Concluded

Thank you very much for reading. Any and all constructive criticism is explicitely encouraged and will be gratefully received.

There will be one more closing chapter, more of an epilogue, to tie up the last unsolved plot elements. In addition, this story is currently in the necessary process of being re-written to erase any and all schmootz I have tortured your kind reading eyes with in the first chapters. I want to get this tedious work done before I'm marching on to the epilogue, so any and all updates you may expect in the next months will concern earlier chapters.

I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause and promise to work hard on a better, more consistent and shiny version of this story. Thank you for your patience and, as always, thank you for your unwavering support. You guys are awesome.

akari