Le Jeune Guilavene

Chapter 19

Allen lay on his bed, his head resting on Dryden’s lap as the man played with the loose strands of his hair. Whatever fear they had of Gaddes returning, was drastically reduced by the several glasses of liquor they had drunk a short while ago.
In Allen’s hands rested Escaflowne, beautiful and tinted slightly amber by the golden glow of the oil lamps. The prince examined it idly, running his fingers over the engraved surface and tracing the outline of strange feline carved into it. Dryden watched him closely, while his own fis sls slipped through the man golden tresses, almost like running his hands through water it was so smooth and soft.
“It’s funny, isn’t it? That this led to all . w. well.. this,” the blonde said, twirling Escaflowne in his hand.
The rogue smiled softly.
“This,’ he said, taking the ivory blade from him, ‘was only a rung in the ladder. Whatever lead us to all.. this, is much more complicated. For all we know this may have gotten started by someone forgetting to tie their shoes.”
Allen chuckled softly.
“Are you talking about fate again?” the prince asked, amused.
“I suppose I am.”
“Which reminds me, how do you know all this fate stuff? You’re worse than a blasted gypsy.”
“There is nothing wrong with gypsies,’ the brunette countered, ‘And if you must know, it’s in my heritage to know such things.”
“You’ve inherited the knowledge of fate?” the swordsman asked skeptically.
“No, more like an instinct, really. In my mind’s eye I can see our fates spreading like a web. Nothing solid, just a frail gathering of interconnected strings to form a pattern.”
“Does that mean our meeting was destined to be, Dryden?”
“I think it may have, Allen. It may very well have.”
The merchant ceased playing with the other man’s hair. Instead, he tilted the prince’s head back gentle and leaned down to steal a gentle kiss. Allen smiled into the kiss and ran his hands through Dryden’s dark hair, still tied back with his off-white ribbon. The swordsman broke their kiss to sit up, only to resume with more fervently than before.
Dryden, pleased with his partner’s enthusiasm, pulled him into his lap while their lips and tongue still danced against one another. The rogue’s hands quickly found their way beneath the prince’s shirt, and explored the warm, hard muscle he found there. Allen moaned as his nipples were fondled playfully, then growled when they were abandoned.
Dryden chuckled. The swordsman was really getting into this. A bit surprising, since he was renown for love of the ladies. Silly rumor perhaps?
The dark haired man, pulled away from his lover to removed his shirt, inspiring Allen to follow his example. However, while the blonde man was struggling with his buttons, Dryden took the opportunity to push him over and onto the mattress. Allen lay there, somewhat surprised, but did not resist when his wrist were grabbed and placed away from his body. When Dryden was certain he had gotten the message, he set to work on the man’s slacks, which ended up halfway across the room before Allen was certain what had happened.
The roguish man grinned. What a pretty picture his lover made. Laying beneath him, a young beautiful body sculpted by years of sword practice and riding squirmed slightly. Allen’s beautiful face was turned away, his cheeks tinted pink with shyness. With the exception of the loose white shirt hanging from his shoulders, he was completely naked before this other man, whom he realized he knew very little about.
Dryden laid down on him, covering the man’s beautiful body with his own, and sealing his mouth over Allen’s. The prince’s arms lifted to wrap around the taller man, his hands eagerly exploring the plans of his back and shoulders. The merchant’s hands were not idle either, finding their way between his lover’s legs to his growing erection.
“Oh my gods,” the blonde man gasped, arching up into Dryden’s touch.

The brunette just grinned against the skin of Allen’s chest, and continued his long and torturous play.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Merle, please come down,” Gaddes begged for the fifth time tonight.
“No! I’m going to stay up here until I wither away and die, like I deserve!” she cried.
The soldier had gone in search of the girl, and after speaking with Luca had managed to track her down to the courtyard, where she had climbed a large tree intent on starving herself to death.
“Merle, this is silly! It wasn’t your fault. I doubt even Van blames you. Just come down,” he demanded.
“No!”
“Dammit, Merle, I’m going to stay here until you come down, so you may as well, if not for your sake than for mine. It’s freak’n creepy out here!”
The hybrid girl had to admit he was right. It was creepy. From the courtyard, you could see the garden andthe the dead of night it was a frightening place of shadows and little animal noises. Even the palace looked a bit spooky from the outside, with no lights or movement evident through the windows the place looked empty.
But she deserved to be scared and suffer.
“Just go, I need to suffer in peace.”
“You can suffer in peace over a couple glasses of brandy with me. I really need a drink.”
Merle’s little black feline ears perked. Cautiously, she dropped from the branches and landed gracefully on her feet. Gaddes looked surprised.
“Are you serious about that brandy?” she asked suspiciously.
The soldier stared at her blankly for a minute and then grinned.
“Sure. I think you’re old enough for that sort of thing,” he said.
“Really?” she asked, clearly happy that someone thought she was mature enough for something.
“Certainly. If you’re old enough to go rescuing princes from demons, a little bit of liquor is no big deal,” Gaddes said, knowing he had her now.
The feline girl moved closer to him, her black ears pricked and attentive, and followed him back towards the palace.
“That was pretty cool, wasn’t it?” she said, grinning at the memory.
“You should have seen that shape shifter’s face! He didn’t even look that surprised when he got shot in the head with an arrow,” he said, chuckling.
“He got shot in the head?!”
“No one told you?”
“Chid did not want to talk about it,” she admitted.
“I see. Well, then I suppose I should fill you in. It’s a really strange story.”
As they reached the end of courtyard, chatting to one another as they had never bothered to do before, a strong gust of wind came upon them. They stood momentarily frozen, their arms lifted to cover their eyes from the bits of leaves and debre shot up by the gale. As quickly as it had come, it was gone, leaving the two companions alone with a strong sense of trepidation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ Bal Balgus, the Queen request an audience with you,” the messenger said stiffly.
The demon hunter frowned, staring at the seven soldiers standing guard at the door to Guilavene’s room. He did not like them. They clearly resented his presence there, but had given no indication that they were competent enough to handle matters on their own. His demon slayer cadets had been like that, but they had shed their pride quickly and had come to eagerly accept whatever knowledge he had to offer them. These men, however, were just pure bred snobs.
“She said it would not take long,” the messenger continued, trying to prompt him to go more quickly.
The scarred man grunted affirmation and followed the little man. He despised leaving his post, but the sooner he got this over with the sooner he could return. He offered up a silent pray to Dimion, god of battle, to watch over Van in his absence.
As soon as the demon hunter had disappeared, the guardsmen shared brief look and all nodded in agreement. They all unsheathed their blades, which were all of identical make. The handles were all of simple design, blue handles and silver hand guards. At the top of the sword was a slight ornamental bulge with the seal of the royal family upon it. The soldier each unscrewed this little bulb, and pulled a little blue vial out from within the handle.
They smiled slyly to one another and lifted their viales to one another, and then swallowed their contents quickly. It had a bitter taste. They replaced the vials and the decorative bulb on their swords swiftly, before the drug took hold of them, but did not bother to sheath their swords.
As they slipped into unconsciousness, they sent up prayers to Pherowae to look after their noble queen’s endeavor and insure its success. Even if they did not know what that endeavor was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dilandu watched the red flickers of light dancing about him with anxiety. He had even ceased chewing on the strand of cartilage, all that remained of Zongi’s heart after three days, to study them. The red energy was not particularly powerful, so the mangy bird could not be too close. However, there was absolutely no blue energy, so there was no telling where Van was, except that he was not near Escaflowne. He doubted the foolish mortal was dead, despite the sloppy wound the doppleganger had inflicted. The country brat was just too stubborn to die like that.
However, he did not know if Folken had gotten to him yet. It had been a couple of days after all.
The red lightening continued to flicker, heedless of his worry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Allen lay sleeping beside his lover, his right arm and leg draped over Dryden’s body and his head resting on the darker man’s shoulder. The taller man remained awake, staring up at the sheer red material of canopy. He counted the many folds and grooves in it, trying to determine if the future could be read in them. It was a silly idea, but he was too content to move and find anything better to do.
His prince had been a bit more than even he had anticipated. Dryden grinned as he looked down at the various scratches and bruises riddling his chest and stomach. Yes, Allen had been a little too enthusiastic. Not that he would have changed the wanton virgin for all the world.
At some point during the night, most of the lamps had burned and the burgundy room was almost completely dark now except for the one persistent flame wavering beside their bed. And it was this lack of light, that had allowed Dryden to make out the strange red glow coming for the floor. At first he thought maybe the carpet was on fire, his mind still bit fuzzy from his previous activities, but he noted the red glow did not waver or grow like a flame would.
Reluctantly, he climbed out from under his lover, who groaned at his absence. Crawling to the side of the bed, he found Escaflowne glowing. Not the soft blue glow he had seen when Van handle it, but an angry red glare. Alarmed, he jumped out of the bed, waking Allen as he did so.
“Mmm... what is it?” the blonde asked sleepily.
Dryden crouched beside the ivory sword and tried to grasp it. He yelped as it burned his skin and dropped it. Allen suddenly became alert and was beside him instantly, taking the wounded hand and inspecting it. It appeared fine, just a little redder than the rest of his skin. The prince held his palm above Escaflowne and felt the heat radiating from it.
“It is hot. What does this mean?” he asked.
“Strategos is nearby,” Dryden stated, his expression serious.
Allen stood and quickly gathered their clothes, tossing the brunette his own, while he quickly threw on the rumpled material. The merchant dressed as well, desperately wishing he had some tea with lots of sugar, and used his discarded hair ribbon as a sort of mitt so he could hold the scalding Escaflowne.
“You inform the Queen, I will warn Lord Balgus and check on Van,” Dryden said.
The prince merely nodded in agreement. Never mind rank, he had just been screwed into the bed (rather enjoyably too, one might add) so his ideas about the chain of command was a little obscure at this point.
They left the room to attend to their appointed tasks, moving so quick and with such purpose that none of the guards even stopped to ponder their disheveled appearances after they left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Van stared up at the ceiling of his dream prison. No matter how hard he tried he could not fall back into consciousness. He supposed it was because he had been knocked out, but that did not make it any less annoying. There was alse fae fact that he felt so anxious, it was too hard for him to relax. Folken had not shownup during his dream visit, and the thought of the demon running about while he was unconscious was extremely unnerving.
Idly, the young hunter wondered if he smashed himself over the head with something he might wake up. He decided against that idea, realizing he would not feel the pain in this world and consequently would just look like a big idiot.
Sighing, he tried to relax again. From outside, he could hear the sound of the ocean and the wind. He concentrated on those two simple sounds, clearing his mind and relaxing his dream body. Slowly, the sound of crashing waves merged with the whistling wind to make an inarticulate roar that faded until he heard nothing.
Van almost thought he was succeeding in his transition to wakefulness, when the familiar sound of Folken’s accented voice drew him back.
“Are you awake, boy?” the demon asked, amused.
The youth frowned and did not bother to open his eyes.
“Don’t you mean, are you asleep? You jerk, I was almost awake,” Van grumbled.
The Strategos chuckled and laid down beside the young hunter. His poor little one thought he was dreaming.
Van’s room, no longer the clinic with its stiff uncomfortable cots, was actually a guest room. Decorated in various shades of blue, like almost everything else in the palace, the room was not particularly fancy. The furniture and any other possible weapon had been removed from the room, and there were no windows as the queen had assured him. The only note worthy item in the room was the bed. It was large, pale blue, and ridiculously soft. Van was half buried in the squishy mattress, and Folken was not much better off.
The demon pushed a few strands of dark hair from the boy’s forehead. Van frowned, and slapped his hand away.
“Stop it. I’m waking up,” he growled.
“Mm...”
Smirking, Folken placed his hand underneath the boy’s gray night shirt, feeling the warm smooth skin there beneath his hands for the first time.
Van squirmed a little, but did not move. He was still trying to ‘wake up‘.
The albino inched closer, kissing the dark child’s jaw and neck. He explored the exposed skin of his collarbone and shoulders with his lips while his left hand continued to explore the hidden skin beneath his shirt.
Van frowned slightly, trying not to squirm. Folken’s touch seemed a little more real than usual tonight. He prayed no one was molesting him in his sleep again, cause once was enough.
A sudden pinch of his right nipple and the first inkling of pain brought Van into immediate awareness that no, this was not the dream world. He sprang up in the bed, but Folken was ready for him and caught him, pulling him up and to his chest. Too surprised to scream, the boy remained still against his demonic pursuer. Idly, he noticed the albino had worn his armor, the feeling of his chain mail vest against his chest through his thin shirt was unmistakable. Folken had decided to show his wings tonight as well, the ebony feathers spreading out behind him like a great ever present shadow.
“You have put up a very impressive effort, boy. There are not very many demons who have given me as much trouble as you,” the demon crooned, tightening his hold around his prey.
Van stiffened in his hold.
“Folken,’ he hissed, ‘this really fucking hurts.”
The Strategos immediately let go and the boy fell back onto the bed weakly. The smell of blood filled the demon’s nose and as he looked more closely at the dark child, he could see a patch of red seeming through his shirt. Folken lifted the gray material, ignoring Van’s verbal protests, and was disgusted to find how poorly his little one had been tended to. Really, it had been three days at the damn wound had not healed at all.
“Idiots. You would have thought by now humans would know how to fix themselves,’ he sneered, ‘Hold still. I am not bringing you home smelling like something edible.”
How reassuring, thought Van.
The injured youth flinched as Folken’s hand forced its way beneath his bandages and over his wound. He struggled under the pain, telling him to stop and trying to kick him away, but it only caused more pain and slight annoyance to the demon. A sudden feeling overwhelmed him, like having air suck out your lungs only it felt like his entire body. He was not sure how long it lasted, since he passed out almost immediately. It could not have been long, for when he opened his eyes he found Folken licking his blood from his palm. The demon soon noticed he was aware and smiled.
“How do you feel?”
Van scowled and proceeded whack him with his pillow as hard as he could.
“You son of a gour, do you have any fucking idea what that feels like?! It wasn’t a damn tickle!” he yelled irately.
The now uninjured boy only managed to get two strike in before the demon slapped the pillow from his hand, causing it to burst into a thousand downy feathers. This surprised the demon long enough for Van to clamber out of the bed and towards the door. His exit was quickly blocked, however, by an annoyed Strategos.
“You have a strange way of thanking someone, you know that boy?”
“You want a thank you for healing the injury you’re responsible for? Go to hell, all seven levels!” he snapped.
“Hn. I do not have time to argue about this here. Just surrender, you have no chance of escaping me now.”
Van scanned the room and realized that Folken was correct. There was no exit and he had no weapon. Damn, where were all the people who were suppose to be protecting him?
“You are such a bastard,” the dark child growled.
“Perhaps, but I am a bastard who always wins.”
“I would have you know that no one wins them all,” came a new voice.
The Strategos spun around to the doors, now wide open, to find a somewhat familiar looking man standing behind him. A man holding the glowing Escaflowne.
“Dryden?!” Van cried in surprise, not having expected him at all.
“Good evening. I thought you might need this,” the roguish man said, tossing the ivory sword over the stunned demon’s shoulder and into the young swordsman’s awaiting hands.
The blade was warm in Van’s hands, but not so hot that he had to struggle to it. it. He noted with some surprise that there was a piece of cloth wrapped around its handle so it could be held.
The pale demon let out an angry growl at the interloper. He snatched a pair of black feathers from his wings and hurled them at Dryden. The merchant was barely able to dodge as dagger-life feathers flew past him and embedded themselves in the wall behind him. The older mortal tripped on one of the many unconscious bodies on the floor and fell. He flinched and touched his side, to discover it was wet with blood.
Folken unsheathed his sword, more than ready to finish the man off for his interference, but was distracted by Van’s voice behind him.
“Come out, Dilandu,” the dark child commanded.
A strange ‘pop’ sound and a small puff of blue smoke later-
“Where the hell have you fucking been?! Do you have any idea how boring it is in there?!” Dilandu screech irately.
Van grinned at him.
“I missed you too. Now distract Folken,” the swordsman commanded.
The Strategos barely had time to understand those words before his angry half-brother l for for him. The winged demon swung his sword to fend him off, but ended up pressed into a corner. Dilandu snarled and hissed at him like a wild beast and struck him with his claw-like nails, but could not yet move close enough get in a good strike.
“Dilandu, stop!” the large demon commanded.
For a second time, the demon prince found himself paralyzed.
However, it seemed he had served his purpose, for during their battle Van had escaped with Dryden. Unfortunately, this meant they did not know when to return the enslaved albino to the safety of his sword.
“VAN, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You seem to be feeling better,” Dryden said amicably as they ambled gracelessly down the hall.
His shorter companion snorted.
“Shut up and walk faster,” he grumbled.
The older man had received a relatively minor cut to his side from Folken’s demonic feathers, but had also twisted his ankle when he had fallen over the soldiers. So now, the merchant was forced to lean against Van’s shorter body as they made their way towards the nearest exit.
“What will happen to your little demon friend?”
:The Strategos will not kill him. Remember what you said? The Emperor forbade them from doing so?”
“Yes, that doesn’t mean Dilandu is not g to to be beaten senseless.”
“He’ll heal.”
“You hope,” Dryden said seriously.
Sighing, Van tightened his grip on Escaflowne.
“Return, Dilandu,” he commanded.
A flicker of blue and the sword settled back to red.
“You realize that he’s going to come after us now, don’t you?” Van said.
“Then perhaps you ought to drop me off here. I think he’ll be more concerned with catching you, than trying for revenge against me. You’ll travel faster without me,” Dryden suggested.
“pposppose you’re right.”
The smaller man tried several of the guest doors until one finally opened and Dryden stepped inside. They turned to face one another.
“Good luck to you, Van Guilavene,” the merchant said, bowed respectfully.
“I appreciate all you have done for me, Dryden Stefanus,” Van thanked him, returning the gesture.
“One more thing. I think the Queen has betrayed you.”
“I know.”
“Is that why you did not wish to tell anyone about the Strategos being after you? Because you feared they would betray you?”
Van simply nodded.
As soon as the door was shut, the hunter turned and sprinted down the hall, knowing Folken could not be far behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Blah, this ith disgusthing,” Merle slurred, taking another shot of her brandy.
Gaddes grinned and ed ied in agreement, taking another shot himself.
The two of them were sitting in the parlor, trying to drink the other under the table. The soldier and veteran drinker had to say that he was rather impressed at how much the twelve-year old girl could actually handle. She was on her third glass and had only a slight lisp.
“Where wath I?” she asked.
“The injustice of being female,” Gaddes said.
“Oh yeah. Ith so ridicerus! Even other women are sexist! You know wha Looca said to me when I said I wanna help Chid?”
“What?” he asked, more than a little amused with her drunken ramble.
“She said I could’n do noth’n. I mean the entire freak’n guard was chasing him and no do’n nothing, wha did it madder if I could’n do noth’n? Wha she was say’n was I could’n try because I’ze a girl! The stupidity of it!” she ranted.
The older man nodded solemn to that and lifted his glass to her statement, taking another shot. Seeing him do this, Merle poured herself another glass, but could only manage to sip the stuff. It really did taste something awful.
“See, this is why I like you. You don’t care that I’ze a girl. Don even care I’m twelve. You and I canz sitz here and hava mature conversation aboutz important mattas. You respect me!”
“My mother was woman..” he began.
“One would hope so,” she said.
They both giggled drunkenly.
“I had no pa. Bastard up and left one day. My mother raised me all by herself. She had more guts than most the damn Austorian army. She taught me everything there was worth knowing. Did it better than anyone else every has. So here’s to mom, bless her immortal soul,” he said, and took another shot.
Merle simply sipped what remained of her drink. A figure dashed by the open parlor door as they were both drinking, and they both abruptly coughed. They turned their heads toward the now empty doorway.
“Was that…” Gaddes began.
“Lord Van?” Merle finished.
They shared a brief look, then the older man stood and headed for the door. The demi-demon was in front of the door before he knew what happened, blocking his way.
“I can’t letz ya get’m, Gaddeth,” she slurred, swaying drunkenly.
The soldier almost laughed.
“Merle, I dun think ya can stop me,” he pointed out.
He made to walk past her, but she suddenly hissed and swiped at him. The man stepped back, looking down at his chest, surprised to find her sharp claw-like fingernails and cut clean through his leather chest covering. She had not touch his skin, but had he been any closer he doubted he would have gotten away unscathed. He blinked at her in disbelief. She still swayed and looked dangerously close to passing out.
“Gaddeth, do ya weally wanna fight a drunken demi-demon?” she asked, wiggling her clawed fingers for emphasis.
Mentally, the man made a silent promise never to let her near alcohol of any kind ever again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~