Leviathan’s Daughter: Chapters 20 and 21 Author: GoldenEagle Chapter Twenty She moaned. Fire. Why was she still on fire...? "She's still running a fever, Lord Folken. Infection has set in. We can't seem to bring it down." So thirsty... Her throat was dry, and yet her mouth was continually filled with hot, thick liquid... "We can't get any food in her. We can't get any water to her. Apparently, the arrow punctured both her stomach and left lung. She's constantly coughing up blood. We can't stop the bleeding." She was cold, and yet hot. Her body shivered, then wrenched violently into great shaking convulsions. Somehow, when she had lost control of the fire, she had lost control of a piece of her body and mind, as well... "She's lapsing into constant seizures. They're draining the energy from her. Plus, they're getting more violent. We're afraid some of the spasms could kill her. Snap her neck, stop her breathing, affect her heart... It's all just a matter of time now." Death paced in the back of her being like a prowling cat, coming forward in the worst of her pains, tempting her to reach out to it. And, many times, she would, but draw her hand back suddenly. But the seductive dance still was held and she realized dully that, when she was weakest, it would spring upon her, taking her, tired of giving the chance of her coming willingly. Still, it whispered her name. But she would not listen. There was a voice still echoing in her mind far sweeter and seductive than its own... "But, it is quite amazing. A miracle she's still alive. She barely has any blood in her. She should have been dead long ago. It's like she has reached past her fate and has a firm, if small, grasp on immortality." Through her veil of sleep and fever, she felt a warm, soft touch against her face. The chains of near death kept her from reacting physically, but inwardly, her soul trembled with longing to return the touch. 'Folken, wait for me. Don't leave me...' Folken lifted from her, his lips warm from the touch of her fevered cheek. He sighed and sat back in a chair, not having slept since awaking from his loss of consciousness the day before. The doctors gave him a questioning look, but he made no movement. "I'm waiting for her to wake up. I'm staying here. With her." ********* Long, callused fingers pressed against her neck, then opened her eyelids, checking her vital signs. They slid down the side of her cheek and the unconscious girl flinched at the familiar and painful memory they brought. They passed momentarily over her cracked and dry lips- "Agh!" The man cried out as an iron grasp curled around his throat and he was pulled away from the girl. The tips of sharp talons punctured his skin. He looked up wildly at his assailant, clawing at the metal hand wrapped around his throat. His mouth opened silently in search of breath, but received none. A pale and long face met his, the eyes glowing with a protective rage, the lips set in a thin and rigid line. Dots of blackness floated into his vision as he felt his body begin to fade. "Lord Folken, what the hell *are* you doing?!" The grasp loosened on his throat and he fell, coughing and sputtering on the floor. The man looked up at the creature that had just attacked him with a burning rage in his gaze. But Folken didn't seem to notice, his gaze focused on the speaker standing in the opposite direction. "Who are you?" He said in a low, calm voice, his gaze floating down at the man gasping on the floor momentarily. The silhouette in the doorway seemed to demand respect, giving off an unearthly amount of power. Folken saw his mouth twitch in a small quirk. "I'm Lieutenant Guren of the Inner Sector." The grey hair man said as he stepped forward. "Lord Dornkirk has sent us to bring the girl back with us." Folken eyed the older man suspiciously, but turned quickly when a voice behind him broke him from his cautious gaze. The voice was slightly raspy, still recovering from its earlier onslaught. A tall man, surely not much older than him, stood with his shoulders slightly slumped. Black hair fell over piercing green eyes and he sneered as he spoke. "Lord Dornkirk believes that he can save her when your men cannot. Does this bother you, Lord Folken?" His voice had taken on a sarcastic tone. Folken's distaste in the boy was immediately restored, but he took a quick check of his anger. "I apologize about my previous reaction. I had awoken to find someone in the room, touching Per- Lord Persephone." Folken said calmly. "I was only trying to protect her from an intruder." Chawner, for that was his name, smirked in contempt. "Don't worry, Lord Folken. She is in the best of hands now." "We must leave quickly." Guren said as he called in attendants to prepare Persephone for her travel. Folken was taken a little too quickly by all of this. "But-" "Do you want her to live or not?" Chawner growled. Folken gave one final glance at Persephone's form, which had taken to another seizure and nodded, the exhaustion clear and consuming in his eyes. He had done all he could for her. And it wasn't enough. Chapter Twenty-One Folken rubbed his temples, trying to relieve the migraine that was pushing and confusing his thoughts. "Look, I'm working on finding and correcting the small glitches in the invisibility cloaks. You need to give me more time." He growled, looking up through his bangs at the officer on the screen in front of him. "This project was given to you three weeks ago, Lord Folken. I don't know what is on your mind, but you better get it resolved. I'm not seeing any more potential in your work thus far besides some shady promises. I expect to see results by next week." With that, the transmission ended. Folken groaned, his head in his hands. Things were getting worse. His concentration was shattered, but he didn't know why- Hold that thought. He *did* know why, but it was a thought he did not want to contemplate. And yet his mind ticked off the numbers quickly, the facts, the doubts and fears. Three and a half weeks ago, taken. He visited her often, the position his ship held only about a thirty minute flight from the base. Reports told of her health improving, but the seizures continued. She was weak. She was in some other ship, with strangers. Had she awaken? No. She had been in a coma like state from the beginning. Hopes were running low on her ever waking up. Folken slammed his metal fist down on the edge of his iron chair, denting the cool surface. He had to get a grip! Why did it matter so much to him? She was just another soldier. Sure, she had saved him, befriended him, trusted him... But so had his family, so had Fanalia! Did he stand around moaning and groaning about that? Yet still he couldn't push it out of his mind, her pale face clenched as she went into convulsions. He gritted his teeth. Why... Why should it matter? Why did it matter? She was just another person... Just his savior... Just Persephone... But he couldn't help but *just* loving her. ************ Moonlight streamed down, a woman stood, her babe in her arms. 'Two worlds, two fates, caught in-between. Trusting and doubting in the unseen. Child of mine, galaxies apart. Two worlds, two fates, one heart.' The song echoed through the recesses of Persephone's mind, the image of a woman's face staring down at her, two hazel eyes looking out through long, straight red hair. And above, in the distance, two moons, one a deathly white, the other a lively blend of green and blue. Persephone stirred in the back of her being. 'Mother...?' Flashes burst into her mind, mostly of death and fire and blood, of those like her and their own betrayal. But in the end, she saw that young, gentle face looking down on her, tears falling from her wide, sad eyes. Wings of flame erupted in the background and then a white light surrounded them. She felt her form, so small in the vision, being lifted up, her mother's arms lifted up to her in a desperate and yet untrying plea for her. The last sight was of the attack from behind, the sword piercing the woman's side, but still that sad smile was there, for her. This red haired creature had admitted her defeat, falling to the ground in a pool of her own blood, her attacker staring up at the quickly disappearing babe. Persephone felt a violent upheaval swirl within her. 'No!' Her eyes flashed open and she sat up, only to fall down again, gasping for breath weakly. She focused her eyes quietly, trying to figure out where she was, the dream already fading from her immediate attention. The room was dark and machines of all kinds whirred around her, the slightest beep of her pulse. Where was she? "Folken." She whispered, her eyes wide. She forced herself up, panic sweeping her as the familiarity of the room sunk in. "Folken!" She cried out, her fear all too evident. No answer came and she was left there, shivering and awaiting whatever may come next. *********** Folken stood quickly from his chair, a very serious, very boring meeting taking place in the darkened room. Several sets of eyes focused on him from behind video screens, their voices going silent. Finally one spoke. "Lord Folken, what *are* you doing?" The voice said quickly, annoyed. "Excuse me gentlemen. I'm afraid I have some important business to take care of." He rushed out of the room, and once outside the door he broke into a run, a bizarre grin on his face. He skidded past a gawking soldier but turned quickly, almost falling on the slick floor. "Declare an order for the preparations of my guymelef." He said plainly before heading for docking. The young soldier's mouth hung open for a second. "Ye-Yes, Lord Folken." With that, the boy ran over to one of the communication centers nearby and let out the order. Folken felt giddy. He had felt a sudden consciousness in his being, a thing that he had not realized was missing till it had returned. He knew full well what it was, and his soul screamed her name wildly. 'Persephone! She's awake!' He felt like a child again, a part of him asking how he could be so sure by just a feeling. But he knew. And he was going to bring her back. Bring her back to him. Chapter Twenty-Two Persephone sat up slowly as the door to her room opened. She could see the silhouette of a man, tall and strong in the doorway. Her heart lept. "Folken?" She asked timidly. "Not quite, love." As he stepped forward, the door shut behind him, and Persephone could see her visitor in the dim light. Her eyes went wide, her heartbeat increased in terror. "Chawner." Her body trembled violently, her being shaken to the core. He walked slowly up to her, his movements suave and smooth. "Please, don't... Chawner. Please don't hurt me..." Her voice had become a whimper and she pushed herself against the head of her bed. A hurt look crossed his face, and Persephone knew the look was genuine, no matter how twisted it truly was. "I would never hurt you. You know that, Perseph." The concern in his voice sickened her as he kneeled down on the bed in front of her. She pressed back as far as she could go. But still he came forward, an obsession and insanity in his eyes. "You always hurt me." She said as hot tears fell from her clenched shut eyes, despite her attempts to hold them there. Chawner had been one of the men... One of those who had come to her that one night, after too many drinks... Ripped away her innocence, poisoned a piece of her. Yet Chawner had become obsessed. For some reason, he thought he loved her. Perhaps he did. Yes, she was quite sure he did love her in some twisted way, a strange and piluted love he believed he could force on her. It had been him that came back, so often... She shuddered as she felt his lips on her neck, his hands forcing hers against the head of the bed. Through passionate kisses and nibbles he spoke to her. "I would never hurt you." She felt his tongue draw lazily across her jaw line. She moved her head to the side, her face clenched along with her whole body. "I'm glad you're okay, Persephone." He whispered against her clenched lips. "I needed you. Damn that man for keeping you there with him." He pulled back quietly, and she opened her eyes out of pure curiosity. "Why do you fear me so much? What did he do to you?" he asked in a painful whisper. Persephone wanted to fight back, to say something, but she was still to weak. Too weak... Tears coursed down her face as she clenched her eyes shut again. "I'll show you how to love again, Persephone. That man will never touch you again." With that his lips fell frantically over hers and she cried harder, though silently, as he forced her mouth open with his tongue. It was time to fade away... And yet, within her there was a strength building. A strength that was not her own, it would seem. She ran her finger tips against the side of his hand. He pulled back, his eyes lowered in a lustful haze. Persephone forced a smile that didn't go with her tear stained and cold eyes. "I want to touch you." She whispered. He smiled fully at this, his every dream consisting of those words. He released her wrists and she reached up, quietly, and cupped his face, bringing him to her. Their lips met softly and she brought it deeper, her tongue running across his bottom lip. He answered and their tongues met. It was all Persephone could do not to vomit as she started to concentrate. Chawner first thought it only the warmth of his passion as he felt her palms hot against his face. But soon the heat became uncomfortable, and with a flash of fire and a momentary sizzle, Chawner fell backwards, screaming. He fell of the bed, his head hitting the floor. He pulled himself up to a nearby dresser and stared at the mirror, speechless. Two hand shaped marks of burnt and melting flesh shown on his face. He turned angrily to Persephone, who was trying to stand without falling. "Why, you little bitch..." He launched himself at her and she fell, pushing herself against the wall, glass shattering as she tipped over a nearby table. His hands reached around her throat and she felt her breath leave her. "You bitch. I'll show you what happens to those who rise against me-" A strangled noise fell through his lips and Persephone coughed and gasped as his grip around her neck loosened. She tried to catch her breath as she looked up, the man before her falling backwards, blood rushing through his lips. And as he fell, the other man before her was revealed, bloodied sword still in his hand. Their eyes met and, for a few seconds, nothing was said. And then a sob roared through Persephone's lips and he was kneeling down in front of her, words of concern and joy and pain issuing from him. His hands touched her face, her bruised neck, her hair... And the Prince of Fanalia helped her rise, shaking and unsteady, from the floor. Whispers still fell from him and he pushed forward, kissing the tears from her cheek, kisses falling on her chin, and finally his lips rested on her forehead. He yearned to meet her lips with his own, but not after this... Not so briefly after the twisted love she had just seen. And she let him comfort her, her breath slow and even, her eyes closed in a single, short moment of utter peace. He rested his forehead on hers and she gradually opened her eyes. She met the steel gaze of Folken. She smiled, new tears dimming her vision. "So, I guess you would be my Knight in shining armor, hm?" She said slightly sarcastic. He stared solemnly back at her, his eyes only a couple of inches from her own, his breath warm against her face. "My Prince come to save me at last?" She smiled at this. "I'll always come for you, Persephone."