Amoro Revidi

Title: Waltzing the Minuet [Part Fourteen]
Series: Vision of Escaflowne
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Part 14. I find this story is beginning to get out of hand. For every chapter I write I come up with three more that I have to add to explain parts of it. I'm glad this story is going to be sectioned. So far we're not even to the part in section 1 that I'm wanting to be at before I can start writing about section 2, but then that's pretty acceptable since the goal of the first section hasn't been accomplished yet. I suppose it sounds like I'm talking in riddles, but really in my notes on paper it all makes sense.

***

    “The pair of them on the dance floor look quite handsome,” Kira remarks, looking at the king of Fanelia and Hitomi as they move with unseemly grace.

    “Didn’t you say your father wanted you to try and get him to fall for you, Princess?”

    “You really should stop calling me that, Prince Jasper.”

    “Not until you decide to stop calling me ‘Prince Jasper’, and start calling me Jasper,” he replies, turning her quickly and twirling her out to arms’ length and then pulling her close with an interlocking arm pattern as the steps of what would be, on Earth, a variant of the minuet, dictates.

    “It would be unbecoming of me to call you outside of your title, Prince Jasper.”

    “As unbecoming as it would be of me to call you outside of yours, Princess.” She sighs and rolls her eyes. “And why, by the way, do you dislike being called Princess so much, Princess Kira?”

    “Prince Jasper,” a quiet voice from the edge of the crowd says.

    The tall prince stops in mid motion, turning to glance at the speaker. A dark brown eyed young woman dressed in dark violet robes with a sword at her side stands and bows her head. “Forgive me, Princess Kira, I…” Jasper bows to her and excuses himself from the dance floor.

    Kira blinks and her brow furrows, she starts to follow him, but is cut off by the other clapping royals as the music of the dance ends.

    “I am sorry to disturb you, Jasper, but there is news from your mother.”

    “How was it delivered?” he asks, smiling as the two of them head over towards the refreshments.

    “Special courier.”

    “Where is the message?” he asks.

***

    “Oh look, Van,” Hitomi says as the two of them head over towards the refreshment table.

    “Hmm?” he asks, looking down at her.

    “It’s Prince Jasper, I met him during dinner,” she says with a smile, “he was really nice to me… Have you met him?”

    “Not particularly, why don’t you introduce me?” he says.

    Hitomi smiles and nods, leading Van forward by taking his hand. “Prince Jasper?” she turns to Van, “That must be Princess Kira he’s talking to,” she tries again, “Jasper?”

    Turning and looking over his shoulder at the sound of his name, Jasper starts as he sees Hitomi and King Van. “Hello again, Lady Hitomi,” he says with a smile, “you’ll have to excuse me a moment, I’ve got some pressing matters to attend to.”

    “Too pressing to meet the King of Fanelia?” a quiet voice asks from Jasper’s side.

    Hitomi starts, That isn’t Kira…

    “Of course not,” Jasper replies in a somewhat agitated tone, glancing down at the young woman standing at his side. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty,” Jasper says, executing a formal bow.

    “Likewise,” Van says evenly, nodding to the prince. “Don’t let us detain you from your business.”

    The young woman, head bowed, says something low enough so that only he hears it. Jasper nods absently and she steps back into the crowd. Hitomi tightens her hand on Van’s arm in question and he glances at her momentarily as if to say, Later.

    “Then if Your Majesty, and the Lady Hitomi will excuse me, I must be on my way,” Jasper bows formally to them both before turning to leave.

    As he disappears from earshot, and Van heads over to the table to collect drinks for the two of them, Hitomi murmurs, “I wonder what that was all about… and what happened to Kira?”

***

    Peralis looks out the window at a much similar scene.

    The four brigadier generals stand at corners of a designated square fighting space with a single figure standing in the center of them.

    The figure carries only a sword and a dagger strapped to its waist, two gauntlets on its wrists, and dark reddish brown hair tied back from her face.

    Looking across the courtyard Peralis can see the tall figure of the Ispano High Priest dressed in white robes the seamstresses originally assigned to the Lady Hitomi’s wardrobe had created for him. His arms folded across his chest he is frowning, it seems to Peralis, but he calls out, “Begin,” in a commanding tone.

    What in the name of Escaflowne is going on here? Peralis asks.

    Under the bright light of the two moons the fighters circle their target, which is in the center. Tristan turns to the side, conversing with one of the soldiers gathered to watch the spar.

    First the southern general leaps forward, striking downwards with his sword, but the strike is blocked without much more than a flick of Arik’s wrist, and then a counter maneuver that knocks the southern general backwards.

    Next the eastern general attacks, a thrust of his sword like a fencer, but again Arik blocks, rotating her own sword so that in order to keep his sword in hand the eastern general has to come close to her. Stepping back she draws her dagger and cuts a ribbon from his upper arm expertly.

    Falling back he holds his sword with the other arm. Without pause the northern and western generals move forward.

    The sound of swords clashing in the air is highlighted by the occasional sparks flying from the swords and dagger. The ribbons tied to the appendages of the samurai generals disappear one at a time until finally, breathing hard and standing a little crooked, Arik shoves her sword into the ground and pulls the band out of her hair, shaking it loose around her face.

    Applause fills the courtyard and Arik grunts, running her hands over her face and tying it back again before wrenching her sword from the dirt and bowing to her defeated opponents in turn before heading towards the stairwell behind Tristan.

    The High Priest catches Peralis’ gaze across the courtyard before turning and making his way up the stairs after his bodyguard.

***

    “That was an excessive display,” Tristan says to Arik as the two of them climb to their quarters. “Besting the country’s four top warriors?”

    “It was practice, and I submitted a formal request for the training session to the council. Chief Advisor Peralis told me to ask the generals themselves, so I did. They agreed, and so we sparred,” Arik leans against the wall outside the rooms and catches her breath a moment.

    “You needn’t have made such a spectacle of the spar, though,” Tristan pulls the door open and waits for her to precede him inside.

    “It was only a spectacle,” she shoves herself off the wall and enters the room, laboring to keep her footsteps in line and straight as she moves over to her bed, “because you insisted on calling out the go. If you hadn’t asked to be there, then none of the other soldiers would have felt the need to be there,” placing one hand on the post at the end of her bed she begins to take off the sword belt.

    He sits down on her bed, still facing the door, and says, “That’s not true, they came because you were fighting the four highest soldiers in the country.”

    Tiredly she sits down at the foot of the bed and says, “Well I can’t exactly go back to where I was originally trained and ask them to work with me any more right now, can I?” He glances over at her swiftly, trying to gauge her meaning.

    “We’re here in a foreign place without assurance of safety. I cannot, under these circumstances, leave your side.”

    “Arik, I…” He turns and then sighs.

    “I know, Tristan. I’m not making any sense to you, am I?” her voice is soft, caring, and she leans her head back, pointing her chin at the ceiling and closing her eyes.

    At a loss for anything else to do, he leans down and lays his head in her lap. “It will all be all right in the end, won’t it, Arik?” he asks in a much meeker tone than his normal voice, curling his knees up to his chest as he thinks back on Ispano. “Things… things will be like they were again, won’t they?”

    Leaning back slightly, planting her hands on the bed and sighing, “I…”

***

    “So your impression of Dulchap’s competency in maintaining the High Priest is all within the report you’ve given to Sotet?” Mot asks, standing and staring out the window into the sunlight morning.

    “It is as I have said numerous times, Misstress Mot.”

    Mot glances over her shoulder, long silver braid moving to the side as she does so, alert dark eyes taking in the expression on Merle’s face.

    “If you don’t believe me…”

    “I distrust your assessment because she did not bring the High Priest here upon her recovery,” Mot says simply.

    Merle stands and glares over at the High Bikathian, “Neither did I bring Lord Van here when Fanelia was razed, neither was Duke Chid brought here when Freid fell in the last war, what makes this any different?”

    “It is different, Merle, this time there is no war going on that involves the Consortium. This time there is no reason to distrust the circumstances within the Halls. She has every chance and opportunity to bring him here, and she does not. Explain to me why she would not do what she was trained to, if you would be so kind?”

    “She’s still injured and if she can’t protect him properly then she won’t take him anywhere, you of all people know that about her. You chose her for the assignment, just like you chose all of us for our assignments, you knew then that she would bond with him the way she did and you know that that’s why she’s not brought him here to you.”

    Mot turns back to face the window again, grunting out a guttural protest.

    “Some of us never wanted to be breeding stock, you know,” Merle adds in a quieter voice.

    “That is not the issue at hand here,” Mot says in a stern voice.

***

    Smiling politely, Kira curtsies to the prince who escorted her to the chairs on the side of the room. She sighs, glancing around for anyone she has met and passed some little time with already, and, finding none, she moves quietly over to the windows, glancing out at the moonlit night.

    “Princess, I can’t imagine your father would be happy to find you standing here all alone,” a voice close by her side says.

    “I do not believe he would,” she replies, not bothering to look up.

    “Then might I have this dance?” the prince to her side asks.

    “I really…”

    Kira, for once in your life try to attract a man, not repulse him. I’d hate to think of what will happen if you do not find a husband soon.

    “Would love to,” she says with a forced smile.

    You are a disgrace to your homeland, and your family.

***

    Hitomi, having finally caught up with the Queen, stands chatting quietly with Millerna near the refreshments. She cannot help but keep one eye on Van as he dances with various princesses and duchesses and baronesses or daughters of royalty. As she scans the room there appear to be more people than she had been introduced to or even seen at dinner.

    “Queen Millerna…” she begins, only to find herself cut off.

    “Hitomi,” Millerna’s voice is quiet and lower than the prior parts of their conversation, “Please… don’t call me that,” the taller young woman smiles and takes one of Hitomi’s gloved hands in her own, “we’re friends, aren’t we?”

    “Yes, of course, Millerna,” Hitomi replies with a smile.

    “Oh, that’s good to hear,” Millerna says with a smile, sipping her punch, “it’s so hard to have friends when you’re a queen… you never know if the people around you are only there because of your position.”

    Hitomi’s stomach sinks as she hears those words.

    “Hitomi? You were saying something that I interrupted, I’m sorry… What was it?” Millerna asks calmly.

    “Nothing…” Hitomi says, one hand settling on her stomach as she takes another drink from her cup. Over his dance partner’s shoulder, Van smiles at Hitomi and winks at her. “I… I think I need some air,” she says, moving towards the doors of the balcony.

***

    Where’s she headed off to? Van asks himself as he continues to twirl the Countess of one of Cesario’s smaller city-states to the medium tempo music. He watches with a furrowed brow as Hitomi heads out onto the balcony, waving Millerna to remain with her party.

    The Queen of Asturia meets Van’s gaze and she gives him a concerned look. The two of them had spoken some just before dinner about the reason for Hitomi’s return to Gaea, and Millerna had come out and asked his intentions towards her friend.

    Abashedly, Van had admitted that he loved Hitomi, and he found it had been easier than he had suspected to relate that information to Millerna, especially after Allen had so insightfully pointed out that it was written all over his face whenever the sandy blond young woman was near him.

    “I really would appreciate a little more of your attention,” his newest partner informs him in a rich voice.

    Van looks up, blinking, into a pair of violet eyes, not having noticed when he had switched partners. “Pardon my inattention, Princess,” he says, searching his mind for her name.

    “It is quite all right, Your Majesty, I myself find my mind straying from the dancing, and yet I cannot avoid it any more than you can.” She draws herself back from his arms and says, “I do not doubt that Hitomi’s the cause of your preoccupation, Majesty,” she says with a curtsy.

    Confused, Van bows in return and offers the quick witted Princess his arm as the two of them leave the dance floor.

    “I do not blame you, she is quite the young woman.”

    “Look, Princess…” Van’s temper flares slightly as he begins his sentence.

    “Kira of Basram,” she says evenly, bowing her head.

    “Look, Princess Kira, I apologize for not giving you my undivided attention, but you have no right to discuss…”

    “Hitomi happens to be a friend of mine,” Kira replies, tone a little stern, “but you are right, I should not be discussing your business with you, seeing as to how I am not a part of it. I merely thought you might appreciate knowing that there are some people,” she pauses and glances around at the assembly, “that understand what it feels like to be forced towards a situation they are not comfortable with.”

    Van nods, making a displeased noise in the back of his throat.

    “Other than Hitomi,” Kira continues, “who must feel very awkward being presented with the environment she would have to face were she to marry you and become Queen of Fanelia.”

    Van starts to shout, but bites it off as Kira draws away from his arm, curtsying. “Please, Lord King, keep in mind what she must be going through,” she says, turning and heading towards the refreshment stand.

    Van stutters for a moment and glances around at the other dancers and royals standing to the sidelines. Angry, he turns and heads out onto the balcony to get some air for himself, and to check on Hitomi.