Amoro Revidi

Title: Formalities [Part Thirteen]
Series: Vision of Escaflowne
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Part 13... wrote this one rather quickly, I might add.

***

    The evening brings out the best in him, she thinks with a smile as she glances at the finery he was finishing attaching to himself. “You look very…”

    “Stupid,” he finishes for her, glancing himself up and down in the mirror.

    “Oh Van, don’t be so typical,” Hitomi says with a roll of her eyes. “I think you look very regal in that outfit.”

    Van regards himself in the mirror again and feels a little queasy.

    “Van?” she asks, playful tone dropping from her voice as she looks at his face.

    The last time I looked so ‘regal’, as you put it, Hitomi… the occasion wasn’t nearly as joyous as this one. He glances over at her and forces a smile he doesn’t really mean. “Well… I still think you look better.”

    Hitomi blushes slightly, looking away and adjusting the skirt of her gown nervously. Allen had ushered them both into their quarters to change, but once dressed Hitomi hadn’t been able to hold in her curiosity as to the state of Van’s dress and had come tiptoeing over to check on him.

    He looked very handsome, in her opinion, the button up crimson jacket looking just enough the color of his eyes to enhance the effect of his bearing, and the pants a tad more formal than the ones he wears in Fanelia. The sword belt is black leather and the royal sword hangs at his side under a white cape clasped at the shoulders. The small crown on his head he had chosen to wear instead of the full Fanelian crown he would wear if they were holding the festivities in his own country, so as not to show off his kingly station or appear to be showing up his host and hostess.

    In his eyes the outfit did make him look stupid, because it wasn’t very functional. He wore the sword but the sleeves of the garment wouldn’t permit him to use if very effectively in case of emergency and the stiff jacket wouldn’t allow for running very well or dodging, though it held no armor value at all.

    Hitomi feels much the same. It isn’t that she dislikes wearing dresses, but the grandeur of her reception gown makes her feel overdressed.

    “Remind me why I had to wear this again?” they ask at the same time, and then look up at one another and chuckle.

    “Because…” Hitomi begin, voice somewhat stern as she recalls Merle’s voice, “you will be going straight from the reception to the opening ball, and you are, after all, being escorted and escorting a king.”

    “Besides,” Van mocks Peralis’ voice, “it would be rude of the King of Fanelia to show up in anything less formal than the situation requires. Both you and the Lady Hitomi will be greeting the royalty of the entire planet, anything less than your best would be an insult to them.”

    “Next time I come,” Hitomi says, looking at her gloved hands and adjusting the fingers slightly, “Remind me to come when there isn’t any big gathering we’ll be attending.”

    “Would you rather go back to Fanelia?” Van asks seriously.

    She glances up and looks him in the eye, “I would like to see Pr- Queen Millerna again, and Dryden, and Chid…”

    Van looks away, nodding. Hitomi sighs exasperatedly. “Van, you know what I mean… I just don’t like getting dressed up…”

    “And being paraded around in front of strangers?” he asks in response, bringing his eyes back up to meet hers. “It’s what happens when you’re royalty.”

    She nods, glancing off to the side.

    “I’m surprised you’re not more used to it,” he says in a quiet voice. “You’re worthier of the titles than most everyone we’ll meet tonight, and certainly more beautiful than all the scrounging princesses.”

    Hitomi, blushing, looks back at Van with startled green eyes. He reaches forward and brushes one gloved hand down her cheek, lifting her face by the chin and peering into her eyes before smiling and tweaking her nose.

    A knock comes to the door and the floor shakes a little as the Crusade touches down at the docking grounds slightly above the port capital of Palas. “Enter,” Van calls, dropping his hands to his sides.

    Allen enters and says, “Have you seen…”

    “Hello Allen,” Hitomi replies with a smile.

    “Ah, so the two of you are ready then,” he bows and extends his arm in the direction of the door. “Your things will be brought to the castle separately, Queen Millerna would like the two of you to progress somewhat quickly, if you are so inclined, because she will not begin the festivities without you.”

    Hitomi smiles and Van offers her his arm with a slight bow. “Shall we, Lady Hitomi?” he asks, winking at her.

    She rolls her eyes and threads her hand into his arm, picking up the end of her skirts with her other hand to keep them from getting dirty inside the ship.

***

    Chid stands near Millerna and Dryden as the assemblage around them forms up to greet the new arrivals from Fanelia. Chid smiles anxiously as he watches the gondola approach through the canals.

    Flanked by several others in a Chid smiles broadly and waits as Millerna and Dryden move forward to greet their newest guests and lead them up the small stairwell to the wide balcony where the rest of them wait.

    Chid watches Hitomi with interest, trying to ascertain the moment that she recognizes him, if at all, and is pleased to see her smile brighten as she nears him, one hand resting on Van’s arm as the two enter the assembly at a stately walk.

    There is a long pause as the two are introduced to the forty odd royals and heirs present and then the entire group progresses up towards dinner.

    “Duke Chid,” Hitomi says as she and Van fall into step near him, “it’s wonderful to see you again,” she smiles.

    “I’m glad to see you too, Hitomi,” he replies, smiling.

    “You’ve grown quite a bit since I last saw you, how are things in Freid?” she asks, Van smiles and nods to the young Duke who gives him an awed look before quickly regaining himself and answering Hitomi’s question.

***

    Millerna sits down at the center of the main table and Dryden sits next to her. The two of them smile and the other royalty take their seats as well. To Millerna’s right sits Chid, Van, Xachary of Basram, and the Ezgardian Queen Aiter, and to her immediate left is Dryden. On the other side of him the monarchs of Daedalus and Cesario are seated.

    “We would like to thank all of you for coming,” Millerna says as Dryden draws her up to her feet by taking her hand and urging her up with him. “It gives us, and Asturia, great honor to know that all of you have come to celebrate this most special occasion with us.”

    Dryden, smiling at his wife, reaches up to touch her cheek, “Although it gives me significant pleasure just to be your husband,” he adds in a lower voice, “my goddess.”

    Millerna blushes and looks down and a muted noise of appreciation goes through those gathered. “All the same this celebration is not just for the two of us,” Dryden continues, “but for you all. Our brother and sister monarchs and their children as well, we lift our glasses to you and to continued peace and prosperity throughout Gaea.”

    Glasses around the room lift and are chinked together with other glasses before drinks are taken from them. Van glances down from the main table at Hitomi and catches her eye, smiling and including her in the general atmosphere of the room as the servants carry in trays of food.

    Sitting down with the other unmarried young women, Hitomi doesn’t feel nearly as overdressed as before, but still out of place. I wish I could sit near Van, she thinks as she looks around the table and meets the steady gazes of the princesses, who, unlike herself, appear to have no doubt as to their intentions or placement.

    One in particular catches her eye as she converses quietly with one of the princes at the table. Hitomi’s eyes are drawn to the young woman’s face, which is framed by dark hair, and her quick violet eyes catch Hitomi’s gaze and she smiles.

    “Lady Hitomi,” a kind, melodic voice says. “I’m not sure if you’d remember my name, we were introduced so quickly before, I’m Princess Kira of Basram.”

    Hitomi smiles a little brighter, “Of course I remember you, Princess,” she bows her head slightly, “It’s been an honor to meet you.”

    The Basram Princess chuckles and turns to the young man. “I told you she was pleasant and nice to know, didn’t I, Prince Jasper?”

    “Quite truly you did, Princess.”

    Kira sighs and shakes her head, turning to say to Hitomi, “Please, one of you call me Kira, it’s driving me insane that no one will use my name in this assembly. I feel like father did not give me my own name, what with being called ‘Princess’ so much.”

    Hitomi smiles. “If you will drop the ‘Lady’ before my name?” she whispers conspiratorially. “Even the people in Fanelia insist on calling me that, and it’s driving me mad.”

    Kira smiles and Hitomi returns the gesture by lifting her glass and offering a toast, “To dropping formalities?” she asks.

    Jasper nods once and lifts his as well, Kira following suit. The other princesses at the table stare, shocked at the three of them, but Kira disregards them and strikes up a conversation with Hitomi that helps her to forget about being the odd one out of the group during dinner.

***

    Grunting slightly, Merle swings the sword and is deflected again. Sotet growls and shoves her past him, sending her head over heels towards some rocks. Agilely, the cat woman curls her body and stops on her knees, lifting the sword to block her opponent’s next swing, which was aimed at her neck.

    “Enough for today,” a deep and yet feminine voice calls out, freezing the two of them in place. “Sotet, there’s the Freid girl that needs your expertise, if you don’t mind.”

    The tall, darkly tanned man nods, pointed ears flicking once as he offers a hand to the cat woman. Merle takes it and gets to her feet easily, watching as her former mentor heads off into other parts of the building.

    “Your skill with the sword seems to be improving, Merle,” the same deep voice says from the doorway.

    “Thank you, Mistress,” Merle says, sweeping a bow towards the bare vision of a female body silhouetted in the late evening sunlight.

    “I think perhaps it is time you step your training up to work in melee combat with it, do you not?”

    “If that is your will, Mistress,” Merle says, head remaining bowed.

    “Stand up straight, Merle, we aren’t, after all, that distantly connected, after so much time, are we?”

    “Mistress Tovenaar…”

    “I have a first name, Merle. Do well to learn and use it,” the voice snaps, becoming stern and brittle. Merle nods, bowing her head again. “Follow me now, I have other chores for your training.”

    Merle follows the shadowy silhouette down the hallway, setting the sword down in its position by the door. “I hear your King has taken in the Ispano Priest?”

    “Yes, Mi-Mot.”

    “Was he with or without his Kathis?”

    “With,” Merle replies tightly.

    “What do you think of Dulchap, Merle?”

    “She is very damaged.”

    “She would be, if they escaped and retained their lives. I take it they did, since you seem so reluctant to speak about it.” Merle does not respond, choosing, instead, to adjust her battle skirt as the two of them head deeper into the mountain. “What do you mean by damaged?”

    “Her back has many scars, as does her body… and she appears reclusive.”

    “Do you think she will need to be replaced?”

    “Is there any way to, after so much time?”

    Mot does not respond immediately. “There is always a way. There are no other currently available Kathis of proper training, however. Do you still feel as though you are not worthy of your King?”

    Merle’s ears prick forward and she stops in mid stride. “I am not, but I do not believe he will accept another. I do not believe that he knew what I was when I was sent to him, and I do not think he will take kindly to me being reassigned after so much time.”

    “So it was more of a successful combination between the two of you than you hinted at before?” The deeper voice asks.

    “Lord Van… is my best friend.”

    “And…?”

    “And I would do anything to be assured of his safety, Mistress,” Merle says, blue eyes flashing in the somewhat dark hallway as she glares at the silhouetted figure in front of her. “There is nothing more to be said. I failed him once, and I will never do it again.”

    “Then you are worthier of your assignment that he, perhaps, deserves.” Mot moves forward again, pausing once for her to catch up. When Merle doesn’t, Mot starts forward again, saying only, “Don’t.”

    With an inner growl, Merle moves forward at a slight jog, trying to keep up with the silhouetted figure of the High Bikathian.

***

    His crystal blue eyes narrowed to slits, Tristan stands before the line of prisoners and looks from one to the other in turn. To his right and slightly behind him, Arik watches the procedure somewhat disinterestedly, but with one hand on her sword regardless. “This one,” Tristan says, pausing before one of the drawn up mercenary prisoners before continuing to pace before the other eleven.

    Arik sizes up the mercenary, gray eyes glaring.

    “And this one,” Tristan says, pausing before one on the other end of the line. The guards come forward and take the chains attached around the two prisoners’ necks and lead them to the interrogation room.

    Peralis nods to the two constables in charge of the prisoners, and the Minister of Defense, then he and the Minister follow Tristan and Arik into the interrogation chamber.

    I don’t see why they have to come, Arik thinks to herself, eyes glancing around alertly. Tristan knows what he’s doing and would never lie to these people.

    Once inside she begins to understand why, however, as she surveys the contents of the room. Her breath catches slightly, A torture chamber…

***

    Standing on the balcony, Hitomi glances over her shoulder at the dancers within. She sighs and looks up at the night sky, wondering what Van is up to while she stands outside, alone. Maybe I shouldn’t have come, she reasons. Even if… Van loves me, she cannot help but smile at that thought, he’s still got a responsibility to Fanelia, to get married and provide an heir to the throne. Surely he’s come to find someone to do that with here, and not me.

    Wiping her eyes with her gloved hands quietly, she whispers aloud harshly, “Who’d want to be stuck here forever, anyway?”

    Approaching quietly, Van says, “You aren’t be stuck here, you know.”

    She looks up at him and then turns away quickly. “How… how long have you been standing there?” she asks.

    “Long enough to know that the most beautiful woman here is without a dance partner and feeling left out,” Van says, not tripping over his words at all, for once. “Hitomi… I know what it must seem like,” he comes to stand next to her, leaning somewhat awkwardly in his jacket against the railing, “but it isn’t like that at all.”

    “Isn’t like what?” she asks stubbornly.

    Van glances over at her before waving a hand vaguely at the dance inside. “Just because… I love you, it doesn’t mean that you’d be trapped here.”

    Surprised green eyes turn to regard him, catching his profile in the moonlight as he continues. “You… said you loved me, Hitomi, and… I meant it when I said that I love you in return, but I don’t want to force you into anything you aren’t ready for.”

    She takes a step back and regards him querulously.

    “It’s true, though, I am supposed to keep an eye out for a wife,” he says, coming to the conclusion of his statement, and of his thoughts. “I… I’ll never be able to find one that would be better than you,” he says in a low voice, “but the choice isn’t completely mine to make.”

    There is a long moment of silence between them and Hitomi puts her hands up to cover her face. “Van…”

    He turns towards her, suddenly, blinking rapidly and smiling. “May I have the pleasure of this dance, Hitomi?”

    “Yes,” she replies, taking his hand without the least bit of hesitation and allowing him to lead her back inside to the pairs lining up to dance.

    The other monarchs notice the two of them enter and begin to dance with one another, smiling fondly and acting as good friends would. Xachary’s eyes dance a little in anger and he casts his eyes about for Kira, to see what she is up to.

    He is surprised to find, however, that his daughter is not seated on the wall by herself or conversing with the other ladies, but dancing, and quite well, with one of the young princes. He notices, offhandedly, that it is the same… Prince Jasper, that escorted her from the Lords’ Meeting earlier that same day.

    Well, well, Kira, it appears you listen to your father after all. I may not yet be forced to cast you off to your cousins in the mountains. There is hope…

***

    Near the thrones, Dryden and Millerna circle one another politely, bowing and curtsying and twirling and spinning as the dance dictates. Millerna smiling a secretive smile at her husband as the evening progresses. Dryden grows somewhat uneasy as he sees that certain smile spread across his wife’s lips and he glances over at Chid, who shrugs and continues to entertain his nephew.

    “Dryden,” Millerna says, batting her lashes, “you can hold me closer, we are married,” her tone is innocent.

    “Like a precious glass statue, it would be a shame to damage you, goddess,” he responds in her ear before drawing back to arms’ length as the steps dictate. He glances around as the steps continue, smiling and nodding to those that pass, attention forced back to the matter at hand as the steps bring Millerna close to him again.

    She pulls him a little closer to her as he steps around her feet and leans her head around to follow his movements with her eyes, a smile on her lips. “Dryden, do you have the time?”

    He glances at the clock just over her head and she plants a small kiss on his neck, looking up at him innocently as he starts. “Just after ten,” he says skeptically. “Goddess, what’s going on?”

    “It’s all right, my love,” she says in a soothing voice, “you don’t need to be afraid of me,” her words are soft and only for his ears.

    “What are you talking about?” he asks in a nervous voice. “I’m not afraid of you, Millerna.” He looks down at her with a faux puzzled look on his face.

    She smiles tolerantly and cups his cheek as the other assembled dancers clap for the musicians. “Dryden,” she smiles and leans up to kiss his cheek tenderly before patting it and waiting for him to offer his arm to guide her back to the thrones.