Ties of Blood

an Escaflowne fanfic

by Serenade

Part 3: Closer to Fire

Author's Notes

Spoiler warning:
This story is set after the end of the Escaflowne series. If you haven't seen all the episodes, you may encounter a number of significant spoilers.

Disclaimers and other notes can be found in Part 1 of the story.

With many thanks to Nat-chan for beta reading and advice.

The smell of smoke stained the air with a bitterness she could taste in every breath she took. It lingered unpleasantly in her nostrils even when she exhaled. Millerna tried not to breathe too deeply as she hastened across the East Courtyard in the gathering gloom. Her eyes were fixed on a tiny window set high up on the far wall. She could see firelight leaping up behind the glass, in a room where no fire should be.

The guards who accompanied her--Geve and Virnan, summarily recruited from their posts--were hard-pressed to keep up with her rapid pace. Even though it was always difficult to run in skirts, Millerna did not lack practice. She raised a hand to shield her eyes as another gust of wind drove the rain into her face. She could see no one else foolhardy enough to have braved the outdoors on this dismal evening.

When Millerna reached the double-doors guarding this wing of the palace, she threw them open without hesitation and began ascending the stairs to the third floor. Her way was unimpeded, which only fuelled the horrible suspicion in her mind. There were supposed to be two guards on watch at all times--a dangerously low number, Elise had argued, but it had been a compromise between security and secrecy. The fewer people who know where he is, Allen had said, the fewer guards we'll need.

But there was no sign of any guards at all. An assassin could easily slip inside and slay his target without any interference. But Allen had hand-picked these men himself. It was unthinkable that they would have deserted their posts. Millerna's pulse skipped faster as her mind ran through the possibilities: bribed, lured away, ambushed... worst of all, suborned, and perhaps taking an active part in whatever horrible scenario she was about to discover.

Millerna could see the smoke now, billowing down the corridor from a glowing doorway. At the entrance to the room, Geve put out his arm to stop her. "I should go first, your Highness."

Millerna nodded. Geve stepped forward into the smoke, cautious and watchful. Millerna followed close behind, the acrid vapours stinging her eyes. Could any living thing endure this for long?

They found the first guard lying just beyond the threshold. A long red welt marked the side of his face, but his whimpering moans indicated he would survive to fight again. Another guard lay fallen nearby, unconscious but alive. There was no sign of anyone else in the room.

They beat out the flames using blankets from the bed, sending thick clouds of smoke swirling through the room. Coughing, Millerna ran to unhook the window latch, pushing out the glass to allow fresh air to flow in. A choked off gasp from behind made her whirl around.

She saw Virnan fall forward, a bloody gash across his back. A figure stood behind him in the doorway, drawn sword in hand, demon smile on its face.

"Are you looking for Allen?" inquired Dilandau Albatou. "He's not here. There's only me."

He looked like a ghost risen from the grave, his skin an unnatural waxen shade. His pale hair fell in dishevelled strands around his face. A long, curving scar along his right cheekbone marred the symmetry of his features. His eyes burned fever bright in his skull.

Geve had drawn his own sword, stepping in front of Millerna. "Put down your weapon," he said.

"Yeah, sure," Dilandau answered. "When they bury me!" Half a breath later his sword clashed against Geve's. With a frightening recklessness, he lunged inside Geve's guard, forcing the man backwards and off-balance. Geve twisted to one side as he fell, to avoid crashing into Millerna. Dilandau was on him in an instant, sword raised and then falling.

There was no time for thought. Millerna was weaponless. All she could do was catch at Dilandau's arm like a suicidal maniac. "No--please--don't kill him! He's only trying to protect me."

Dilandau swung around to face her, fury distorting his features. For the space of several heartbeats, Millerna was looking into a scorching, scarlet gaze that cut through her as though she were nothing at all. I'm dead. I'm dead. Elise will say I've been so stupid.

"Please," she said in a small voice. "He's only protecting me."

A flicker of light appeared in the depths of those eyes, as if some distant memory stirred. With a snarl, Dilandau brought his sword down--reversed, striking the pommel against the back of the man's head. Geve slid to the floor with a groan.

The sword was pointing at Millerna now, its razor tip dancing within inches of her throat. "You will show me where the guymelefs are kept."

She nodded silently, afraid she would spill out a babble of relief or hysteria if she spoke.

"Walk in front of me. No tricks. Understand?" He gestured for her to start moving. Millerna took two steps towards the door, then turned to cast an anxious glance at her former companions. Geve wasn't moving, but at least he seemed to be breathing. As for Virnan, she couldn't tell how serious his wounds were without examining him.

Dilandau saw her looking at the fallen men. "What's the problem? They're still alive."

"They're hurt. They need medical attention."

"You think I've got time to stand around while you play nurse? The sooner you take me to my guymelef, the sooner you can get back to your friends." He brandished the sword at her. "Now move."

The wind howled like an animal, its mournful cries reverberating along the maze of paths and archways that linked courtyard to courtyard, wing to wing. Twilight was rapidly melting into night, making it more difficult for Millerna to pick her way through the fallen tiles and broken masonry that littered her path. Everyone else, it seemed, had sense enough to avoid this part of the palace after dark, at least until the worst of the war damage could be repaired.

Rain splattered onto the cracked flagstones. Millerna could feel herself shivering as the wind slid against her. She would have liked to believe it wasn't fear she felt, but she knew better. Not only fear for herself either. The threat Dilandau held against her was pitifully small compared with what he could do to the palace, to its people, to Asturia, to Allen. What he could do to Allen, even simply by dying--it was unthinkable.

She had to get away. She had to reach Allen. This was all wrong. They were supposed to be protecting Dilandau, weren't they? Allen said he was beginning to accept the situation. Allen said he was going to settle down in time. Allen seemed to have misjudged Dilandau's willingness to cooperate. Oh, Allen, what do I do now?

No one was here to help her, advise her, correct her. It was like the time Allen had been critically wounded in battle, bleeding to death on the inside in a slow river of pain. Millerna had been thrust forward as the only one with a chance of saving him. The only one with any knowledge of the healing arts, faced with a situation she had only read about in textbooks. But then, no one else present had read those textbooks at all. It had to be her, or nobody.

I don't want this. Not again.

She thought about faking a fall, pretending to twist an ankle. But if Dilandau believed she couldn't be of any use to him, he might simply run her through. He hovered behind her now, watchful as a hawk. His footfalls sounded close on her own, although there was an irregularity in his pace. His breathing was noticeably laboured, despite his efforts at maintaining a show of strength.

"You're wounded, aren't you," Millerna said.

"That's none of your business." After a moment, Dilandau added, "You think you can outrun me? Go ahead and try it."

"That isn't what I was thinking--"

"Yeah, right. You're just so concerned about my health, of course. Do you even know who I am?"

"Of course. Everyone's heard of you." Psychopath, the stories went. A vicious, wanton killer. He had razed Fanelia, then Freid, destroying without mercy. Even Asturia had not gone unscathed. He was surely a monster, everyone agreed, a twisted soul unrestrained by morals.

He was a monster created by the sorcerers, Allen had said, his soul twisted by their brutal experiments. But what was twisted could perhaps be mended. And this was Allen's desperate gamble.

She caught glimpses of Dilandau sideways when they turned corners. He didn't look like the embodiment of evil, dressed only in a thin white tunic, ash smudges on his face. He was perhaps half a head taller than she was, although his light frame could deceive a casual observer into underestimating his height. His eyes flickered from shadow to shadow, as though expecting enemies to spring in ambush at any second.

"This is taking too long. Are you trying to lead me in circles?" The blade's point pressed into the small of her back.

"No," she said, attempting to keep her voice steady. "This route takes longer because it goes through the rear gardens. But it means you won't run into any other people. That's what you want, isn't it?"

It was what Millerna hoped for anyway--she had seen the results of Dilandau's previous collisions with palace personnel, and she knew that any further encounters could easily turn fatal. But the courtyards seemed to be deserted at this hour, the people driven indoors by the chill and the dark and the intermittent rain. Likewise, the terraced gardens ahead of them were empty of human movement. The stillness was only broken by the slow drip of water from leaves.

The rain had eased to barely a drizzle now, but Millerna still took care on the slick stones as she descended the steps between each terrace level. Dilandau muttered impatiently each time she slowed, prodding her onwards with the tip of his sword.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Millerna bit out, goaded into speech. "Can't you show some understanding? I'm the one trying to help you!"

She was slammed into the wall of the stairway, Dilandau's hand gripping her shoulder painfully. She could feel the damp stone against her back as she stared up into his burning eyes.

"That's what Allen Schezar said to me too," he snarled. "When will you people get it into your heads? I don't want your help. I don't need your help. I look after myself!"

Her shoulder hurt. Her head hurt. Her clothes were wet and her lungs still ached from the smoke. Elise would lecture her and Allen would be upset at not having been there. Millerna felt something flare up like lightning inside her.

"If you can look after yourself, then go ahead! You don't need me." She struck Dilandau's arm away and pushed past him down the steps.

His fingers closed roughly over the folds of her sleeve. In sudden panic, Millerna pulled herself away, scraping her elbow hard against the wall. The shift in momentum caught Dilandau unprepared. He spiralled sideways, foot skidding off-balance, hand still clutching the lacy fabric of the sleeve. The threads ripped against his weight and he fell backwards, with barely enough time for his eyes to widen. There was only empty air behind him.

Dilandau fell like a white shadow, almost floating, as his inarticulate cry split the darkness of the night. Millerna heard the dull thud of flesh on stone, and then silence, broken only by her own ragged breathing.

Millerna sat curled against the wall, her arms wrapped around her knees. If she could cry, she would, but her throat had locked up and all she could manage were a few shuddering breaths.

Across from her, at the foot of the steps, Dilandau's still, tumbled body lay. Earlier, she had crawled over to it, checked for pulse, checked for breathing. Vital signs present. But that didn't ease the slow twisting of dread in her heart.

What have you done to my little sister?

Millerna clenched her hands tight in despair. She couldn't move him, not by herself, and perhaps she shouldn't, not if his injuries were more serious than they appeared. She should run and get help, but what if he woke up while she was away? Or worse, what if he died, alone and in the dark?

So she sat staring at the body at the foot of the steps, contemplating various courses of action and finding none that were acceptable, when Dilandau's eyes slit open a fraction, and there was no time for contemplation anymore.

Millerna saw him wince, and guessed that he had just tried to raise his head. "You had better lie still for the moment. You hit your head on the stone when you landed."

Dilandau let out a huff of derision. "And whose fault was that?" Still, he remained as he was, closing his eyes briefly with a low mutter.

After a while, he spoke again. "What are you doing still here? You could have escaped by now. I won't be able to catch you."

"And leave you here all alone? Who knows what you'll do? You might end up burning the whole palace to the ground. No. We'll wait for help."

Millerna prayed that someone would find them soon. After all, they ought to notice, eventually, that the Princess was missing. And at any rate, as soon as they discovered the guards, the alarm would be raised. How long until the next change of shift? She hoped they wouldn't have to wait till morning. Millerna shivered with cold.

She saw Dilandau's eyes watching her, and she realised he was looking at the sword now resting across her lap. She curled her fingers around the hilt, trying to exude a confidence she didn't feel.

"Do you even know how to use that?" Dilandau asked.

"I imagine it doesn't take much effort to put a hole in someone with this," Millerna said, hefting the weapon. "Much easier than having to mend it."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you." Dilandau snorted in disgust. "To think I was almost killed by someone like you."

"You know it was an accident," Millerna said. "I'm not like you. I don't enjoy killing people."

"I guess crippling them is more your style?"

Millerna clamped her mouth shut against a stinging retort. She wasn't going to be dragged into these games. She was sorely tempted to leave Dilandau here, abandoning him to his own damnation. Let the guards deal with him when they found him. He could be Someone Else's Problem.

But she heard again in her head Allen's words to her: You'll look after my sister, won't you? She doesn't have any friends.

If Serena Schezar was friendless, surely Dilandau Albatou was even more so.

None of this had turned out the way she had planned. She'd wanted to show Allen she could be a help to him rather than a burden. She wanted to be his ally in a hostile court. She wanted to make him happy, to break the silence of his constant brooding. Everything in recent months had shaken him: the gruelling war against Zaibach, his arrest on false treason charges, the girl from the Phantom Moon, his hated father's ghost, and his forbidden affairs coming back to haunt him. Now this. His sister. Not his sister. His own blood kin. His enemy.

Oh, Allen, I wish I knew how to help you.

Millerna heard a low groan, and saw that Dilandau was trying to prop himself up with one arm. "I warned you about moving," she said, but he ignored her. His skin glistened with droplets of sweat as he struggled to a sitting position.

"How far do you think you can run, in that state?"

"It doesn't matter. Anywhere's better than here." He pushed himself to his feet, clinging to the wall with one hand. He managed two steps before he swayed forward dangerously.

Millerna caught him before he hit the flagstones again. She sagged beneath his weight, lowering him to the ground quickly in what was probably more a controlled fall than anything else. Millerna realised with alarm that she had been scant inches away from skewering Dilandau with the sword. Guiltily, she sheathed it into her belt, where it hung awkwardly but out of the way.

Dilandau's breathing was shallow and quick, and his skin was an unhealthy grey. She placed two fingers on his wrist, testing his pulse.

"Don't touch me, you bitch." Dilandau raised his hand to shove her away. She slapped it aside, inwardly shocked at her own temerity.

"Do you think I'm trying to kill you? I just want to examine your injuries."

Dilandau sat still, cursing softly, the edges of his breathing ragged. At least now he suffered her to lay her fingers on him, probing carefully for damage. He let out a muffled yelp when she touched his left arm.

"The bone is broken there," Millerna said, with the satisfaction of a sound diagnosis. "You must have landed on it."

"I could have told you that myself."

"Hold still," Millerna said. At his wary glance, "I've done this before."

"Broken someone's arm?"

"Set bones." Dilandau still looked sceptical, so she added, "I've studied some medicine."

"That's really going to make me feel better," he said sarcastically. Millerna tilted her head at him, but he did not choose to elaborate. Shrugging her shoulders, Millerna pulled the bones back into alignment.

Dilandau didn't cry out, but he went rigid for those few seconds before letting out a harsh sigh.

"If I had my medical bag," Millerna said, "I could give you some painkillers." She didn't know why, but she felt apologetic about that omission. The habit of being professional, perhaps.

"I don't like drugs," Dilandau said. "You can't control what they do to you." He shook his head, as though casting off the grip of memory. "I'd rather the pain than the drugs."

It was the first thing he'd said that was neither threat nor insult. He must be in worse shape than he was letting on. Millerna could see how young he was--even younger than herself--and the lines of fatigue and strain on his face only served to highlight his youth. He'd been at war half his life, she thought.

"Was it very bad?" Millerna asked gently.

Dilandau's expression closed up like a box. "I was a soldier. Am a soldier. That's the way it is. Only the strong survive."

"It doesn't have to be that way anymore," Millerna said. "He--" and there was no need to say who-- "he wants to give you a second chance. The life you should have had."

Dilandau stared at her, then broke into laughter. "A second chance? For a Zaibach soldier like me? What kind of fool does he take me for? I know what you all think of me. As if I could ever fit in here, after what I've done and who I am. Does he think I can just get a commission in the Asturian army or something? Hah. I'm not his sweet little sister anymore, you know. And if he wants to lock me up until I break and turn into some kind of reformed subject, I swear, I'm going to fight him every inch of the way..."

As he ran on, Millerna creased her brows in perplexity. Asturian army? Reformed subject? He's talking as though he thinks... She stopped breathing. He doesn't know. Oh gods. He doesn't know what Allen's doing.

She stared at him, still in shock, certain that her emotions must be apparent on her face. She was afraid to speak lest her voice give her away. But she had to say something, she had to make some response to his virulent speech. Millerna moistened her lips.

"Step away from her, Dilandau." A voice like drawn steel. Millerna looked up at the familiar sound, a tidal surge of relief flooding through her.

Allen Schezar stood in an archway, attired in full uniform, even to the obviously non-ceremonial sword by his side. His hair whipped furiously in the wind. It was hard to make out his expression in the dim light, but Millerna guessed that cold terror had to be a part of it.

"It's all right," Millerna said, trying to project reassurance. "He's not badly hurt."

Behind her, she could hear Dilandau dragging himself to his feet. "It's always you, isn't it," he spat. "Every time, somehow, you're standing in my way. Every. Damn. Time!"

"Fortunately," Allen said, his voice level, "the men you attacked are not severely injured. Otherwise, even I would not be able to save you."

"As if I need you to save me!"

Millerna turned to one side and drew back, watching Dilandau stumble towards Allen, step by laborious step. "You don't know when to let go, do you." His voice was low and hoarse. He swayed slightly as he approached, clutching his broken arm. Millerna stood transfixed. Allen remained motionless. Even when Dilandau collapsed onto his knees, Allen made no move to assist him.

"You should have left me on that battlefield," Dilandau whispered.

The hanging lanterns rocked perilously in the rising wind, throwing the shadows into crazed dance. Dilandau rose to his feet, the deadly glint of a knife in his right hand. Millerna drew in a sharp breath. It had not even occurred to her to search Dilandau for concealed weapons.

Allen drew his sword in one smooth motion. "Put the knife down, Dilandau. Do you think you can bluff your way out of here with that?"

Dilandau bared a feral smile at Allen. "Let's see who's really bluffing here." Then he launched himself forward, his naked blade levelled at the knight.

Allen had to shift sideways to avoid impaling Dilandau on the end of his sword. Dilandau, of course, was not hampered by any such qualms.

Millerna cried out a warning, but her words were torn away by the wind.

She saw Dilandau plunge the knife towards Allen's undefended chest. She saw Allen stiffen, heard a sudden breath of pain. Her own heart contracted in a spasm of terror.

She saw Allen's hand wrapped around the knife blade, the edge digging into his gloved fingers, the tip a hairsbreadth from his chest.

The sword stood immobile in Allen's right hand, useless at close quarters. Dilandau twisted the knife. Blood seeped into white leather.

Millerna felt like screaming.

Instead, moving like an automaton, she drew the sword at her belt, levelling the blade at Dilandau's back. "Drop the knife," she heard herself say.

"Or else what? You'll kill me? You're not the type."

"Oh, wouldn't I? Wouldn't I? Go ahead and test me." Her voice sounded strange in her own ears. "I am a Princess of the Blood Royal; to lift a hand against me is treason. I have the right to execute you. On the spot."

She took a step forward. Dilandau jerked his head around to face this new threat. In that moment of distraction, Allen let go of his sword and used his now-free hand to grip Dilandau's arm--exactly where the bone was broken. Dilandau turned white, dropping the knife from nerveless fingers. Allen did not slacken his grip.

Millerna gazed at Dilandau over the outstretched sword, seeing the scorn in his eyes replaced by uncertainty. Was this what it felt like, to have the power of life and death in your hands? To make people do as you pleased because you were more powerful than them? The adrenalin beat in her veins, making her feel lightheaded. Then she saw the look in Allen's eyes. It was a look she never thought she'd see there. Not from him.

Millerna threw the sword down, where it clattered loudly on the stones. She was shaking violently. She felt sick. She could feel the stink of metal tainting her skin.

"Get him out of here," she said, turning away. "I have to go tend to my people."

She heard their voices hammering through the walls as she strode down the corridor towards the makeshift infirmary.

"How do you expect me to defend you when you run amok in the palace, attacking your guards and accosting the Princess? It doesn't help your situation at all."

"Did I say I wanted your help? I don't need your help!"

"After today's little display, I think you do. I am the only one standing between you and the King's justice."

"Am I supposed to be grateful? Why, thank you, Allen Schezar, for protecting me like the brave and noble knight you are."

"I don't care for your mockery." Allen's voice was bare of emotion. "Or for these kinds of reckless antics. You'd best remember you're not a Dragonslayer anymore."

There was a taut silence, then the sound of something smashing against the wall. Millerna, her heart in her throat, wrenched the door open.

Porcelain shards were sprayed all over the rug. A starry impact mark scarred the wall by Allen's shoulder. Allen's face was marble, but his eyes were full of storm clouds. Directly across from him, Dilandau sat rigidly upright in bed, his hands clenched in rage.

"Let's go," Allen said, drawing Millerna by the elbow. She allowed him to lead her back outside, where he turned to close the door, pulling it shut with his bandaged hand. She could hear the click of tumblers falling into place.

Millerna had to increase her pace to keep up with Allen's long, measured strides as he started down the hall. "Is he going to be all right?" It was an inane question, but she had to break that agonising silence.

"The only thing to do is to leave him alone for a while. Give him time to come to his senses." Allen's tone implied that he was willing to let that take as long as it had to.

Then he appeared to collect himself, his expression melting into one of concern. "But what about you, your Highness? Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'll be fine. Thank you. I was just a bit shaken."

That didn't nearly describe it, and yet what else could she say? He could have killed me. I could have killed him. He would have killed you if he had been able to. What kind of nightmare is this?

Allen searched her face, seeming to understand what she left unsaid. "I'm glad you're all right," he said. "If anything had happened to you, I would not have forgiven myself." He took her hand in his and gently pressed his lips to her palm.

A heartfelt pledge like this from Allen would normally send a cascade of warmth through Millerna. But after the stresses of the past night, any pleasure she could feel at his attentions was muted. And there was something else between them.

"He doesn't know, does he," Millerna said. "You haven't told him."

Allen was silent for a few moments. "It would serve no good purpose. He has already been through enough."

"But he thinks--"

"I know what he thinks. Believe me. It's better this way."

Better for whom? Millerna thought, but did not say aloud. Instead, she said, "Elise is going to hear about what happened." She didn't want Elise to know. Elise would only worry, and admonish, and demand promises that couldn't be kept. "She's going to be unhappy, Allen. People already know he's being held here, even if they don't know where he is or what he looks like. Elise is trying to allay their concerns, but now that Father..."

"It won't happen again. I won't let it." Allen laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "Tell Princess Elise it will all be over soon."

I want to believe you, Allen. I want to trust you. I know you believe you're doing the right thing. But you're playing a dangerous game, and you're trying to play it alone. You say it's your responsibility, but surely it's his too? Can you really intend to remake his life for him without him taking part?

Oh, Allen, do you know what you're doing?

continued in Part 4: Dreaming of the Dead