From:   [email protected]
Date: Mon Dec 18, 2000 9:59am
Subject: Escaflowne: Leavetakings Part 1 - 8


Woi ^.^ 

Since I saw a few blurbs of interest regarding this, I'm posting up 
both what I've edited and what hasn't been (which is like, most of it 
^.^;;). All of the editing was done with the permission of Robert 
Geiger [email protected] who was partially in charge of the 
project. Anyone that wants to add to it can email either me or him 
with the chapter!

On the web this is available at: http://kuskus.org/ibun/

This first post is all the edited stuff (errr.. well.. Chapter 8 is 
MOSTLY edited^^;).





Leavetakings Part 1
An Escaflowne Continuing Story Fanficton

Written by William Geiger
Done in conjuction with (and edited by) Anne Packrat


Dawn broke over the kingdom of Fanelia. Fog that had enveloped the 
country at night broke at light of day. Soon the sounds of daily life 
filled the air.

At the royal castle, a new shift of guards ceremoniously took over 
the old, and the smell of breakfast began to waft out of the kitchen. 
Near the window of the king's bedroom, a lithe figure climbed
down 
from the roof and slipped inside.

"MASTER VAAAAAAN!" Merle cried as she swung in. She landed gracefully 
on the floor and looked around. Immediately she noticed that the bed 
was unmade, and her friend was nowhere to be seen.

He must be taking a bath, Merle thought as she bounded into the 
spacious bathroom. It turned out to be empty as well, save for a damp 
waterbasin and basket full of wet towels.

"You've gotten up early again," Merle sighed. She walked over
to the 
bed and fell face-first into the mattress. Are you avoiding me? she 
wondered miserably.

Merle promptly squashed that thought. Of course Van wasn't avoiding 
her; he was just extremely busy with the construction of his 
reestablished Kingdom. It had been about a year and a half since the 
war had ended, and the damage had been incredible. Thousands of lives 
had been lost, and the entire city had been ravaged nearly to its 
foundations. As the single, remaining member of the royal family, Van 
was duty-bound to oversee the entire immense operation.

Merle crawled up into the bed and buried herself in a pillow, 
reveling in the remnants of Van's scent. She'd been a near
constant 
companion to Van from childhood, yet she saw so little of him now. 
No, this wasn't really true. Since they lived in the same castle, 
they passed each other quite often, and Van always had a smile for 
her. Merle's idea of 'seeing,' however, was to be Van's second 
shadow, to be always ready to give him a hug and suggest they go play 
and leave all the work to others.

Now Van was leaving in the early mornings to meet with ambassadors 
from other countries, to visit neighboring towns to manage the 
reconstruction, and to even lead soldiers against marauding bandits. 
Van was now too busy to play. And when he wasn't busy, he was too 
tired. He wanted that small amount of time to himself, or to 
reminisce about Hitomi.

Hitomi. Merle frowned slightly, feeling a small twinge of jealousy. 
She knew she shouldn't feel that way, but she couldn't help it.
She'd 
always been infatuated with Van, and when Hitomi came along, all 
hopes of becoming Van's mate had been swept away.

Merle sat up in bed and hugged her legs. She never truly thought of 
Van like that until a few months ago. While she had always held a 
childhood dream that Van and her would marry someday, the serious 
thought of them being mates had never really come to mind. 

Then she had come into season.

Merle felt her cheeks burn. At first, she had no idea what was 
happening to her. She'd become increasingly uncomfortable. Her
scent 
had changed (although the humans could not tell), her skin felt 
prickly, and she'd felt a burning sensation in her lower part. 
Ashamed, she hid herself away for an agonizing week in an abandoned 
storeroom, only coming out to eat. Van scolded her for making him 
worry, but she didn't dare tell him why she had done such a thing.

A tear rolled down Merle's cheek. How could Van love someone like me, 
an uncontrollable rutting animal? She bit back a sob. Not like sweet 
Hitomi. Sweet, educated, future-seeing Hitomi (who'd even had TWO 
suitors at one point), who was everything Merle wasn't.

And what can I do? Merle thought. Nothing really. Her most important 
role was Van's Playmate, a job that had occupied most of their
lives. 
Now Van didn't need a playmate anymore, he needed a wife.

And that's not to be me. Merle wiped her eyes on the bedsheet.
And 
why should Van marry her? There's nothing special here. She
couldn't 
see into the future, pilot a Guymelef, wield magic, a sword, be a 
healer, or even act as a politician. Van deserved someone special. 
Which she wasn't.

Am I even needed anymore? Merle spent most of her time now sunning on 
the roof, occasionally coming down for a meal, or hoping to catch Van 
when he was free. She had met some children of the castle's staff 
that she could socialize with, but once again, she was nothing more 
than a playmate.

Not here, Merle stated to herself as she walked to the window. What 
could she do for Van? Her sole experience with important castle 
doings had left Van embarrassed. She had leaped into his arms when an 
ambassador had been visiting, ecstatic over the new guests. Van had 
snapped at her afterwards. Even though he later apologized for 
hurting her feelings, Merle knew he had been right in being angry. He 
was an important figure now and didn't need some childish
beastgirl 
trailing after him like a lost kitten.

Merle crept out the window and walked across the roof to her room. It 
was modest, with lots of small items that she had collected displayed 
on shelves and stuffed toys piled on the bed. A playmate's room, she 
thought, and Van doesn't need a playmate anymore. He needs a queen.

Merle stood in the center of the room for awhile, pondering. Then she 
withdrew a sack from her closet and began tucking clothes and some 
personal items into it. She took a small, heavy pouch out of her desk 
drawer that jingled merrily, announcing a small fortune in coins. Van 
gave her a monthly allowance to buy whatever she wanted, but she 
rarely spent it. After all, who needed trinkets when you had love?

After packing, Merle sat down and took out a few sheets of paper, a 
bottle of ink, and a quill. She remembered how Van had insisted that 
she learn how to read and write. Although she'd loathed the long 
classes (taught by a man whose voice was seemingly incapable of 
inflections), she'd stayed as long as Van was there as well. She 
wasn't allowed to learn anything more then the common human
tongue, 
and the instructor had rudely forbidden her to attend once the basic 
classes had been finished. Only Van needed to learn anything more, 
for he was to be King, and she was merely a castle pet.

Merle's hand stopped. She had written down all her thoughts, all her 
dreams. It was sort of what Hitomi had called a diary, except that 
hers was meant for someone other than herself. Merle finished by 
wishing Van the best, hoping that he would be happy, and also to 
please not be angry. She slipped the letter into an envelope, sealed 
it, and wrote his name on the front. She cleared the desk of her 
trinkets and memoirs, and put the letter in the center.

She left the door unlocked and left through the window where a batch 
of vines led downwards into the backside of the city marketplace. 
Travelling food was going to be necessary. Perhaps there would be a 
caravan she could travel with.

And maybe, Merle thought, I can find a place where I can be special.
 Leavetakings Part 2
An Escaflowne Continuing Story Fanfic

Written by Anne Packrat and William Geiger



Fanelia's market never ceased to amaze her. Even during this time
of 
restoration, it still remained a wondrous place, brimming with exotic 
sights, smells, and sounds. Things from all over ended up here; cloth 
and fish from Asturia (some of Merle's personal favorites), robes and 
weapons from Fried, and even metalworks from the defeated Zaibach. If 
one looked hard enough, one could even find items purportedly from 
the Mystic Moon itself!

Merle was walking down the wide strip, enjoying the myriad of 
spectacular vendors (while at the same time keeping an eye out for 
hardy travelling food), when a sparkle from a vendor's stall
caught 
her eye. She discovered a ring, not too fanciful, but eye-catching 
nonetheless. Intricate bronze leaves (or feathers, Merle reflected 
wistfully) formed the band. They were woven together to meet at a 
brown stone that seemed to catch every sort of red and brown the 
normal eye could see. She stared at it in wonder, hypnotized by its 
beauty.

"You like it?" asked the boy in front of her, startling her out of 
her reverie. Merle searched her memory, recalling the boy's name, 
Kisai, and that he was the son of a local merchant. She nodded 
enthusiastically. He grinned in response, revealing a few gaps that 
his adult teeth hadn't yet filled. "Mom says the stone's 
called `Tiger's Eye.'  It's been in our family for awhile.
Grandpa 
claims it's from the Mystic Moon, but I don't believe him. He also 
told me that some of those people can see the future! Wouldn't
that 
be wonderful thing to do?"

The sudden reminder of her once-rival stung her. Yet she softened, 
remembering that though Hitomi was the one who eventually won the 
battle for Van's love, she'd still eventually became a
friend, and 
that her ability was more the curse than the blessing. Merle recalled 
the one time Hitomi had nearly died, consumed by the horror of one of 
her visions. She shivered, ruffling her fur. "No, it's not right
to 
know the future," she whispered. "Things shouldn't be all
planned out 
like that. It's just not right."

Kisai shrugged. "Mom can tell you more about the ring if you're 
interested." She nodded, and Kisai ran into the back room of their 
family's little shop. Merle took a moment to resettle her fur, 
quickly licking down any fraying strands.

Kisai returned with a middle-aged woman that Merle recognized as Eimi 
Karsile, one of the women who had helped organize the evacuation of 
Fanelia after it's fall. "Why, it's little Merle!" she exclaimed
upon 
seeing the catgirl. Merle flinched at the childlike connotation, but 
let it pass. "Going on a trip?" the older woman asked, gesturing 
slightly at Merle's satchel. Sje nodded in response, hoping that
she 
wouldn't be asked for further details.

Sensing a sale at hand, Eimi Karsile skipped over her curiosity and 
moved on. "Well then, Kisai said you were wondering about the ring?" 
The woman looked proud. "My father found this one day out in the 
forest near our home. No one in his village had seen anything quite 
like it! The elder suggested that it was from the Mystic Moon, and 
was a very special thing indeed." Eimi sighed.
"Unfortunately, there 
was a bad harvest the next year. The villagers blamed it on the 
artifact from the Place of Ill Omen, and on the one who found it. My 
father was run out of town and eventually settled here to open up 
this very shop. My poor father," she sniffled, "perished in
that 
terrible war. He left all these things behind for me to sell. Now 
that everything's over, I'd like to get rid of a few
things." She 
nodded her head emphatically. "Especially those that might bring
this 
place a little bad luck."

Merle listened attentively. When the tale was done, she looked at the 
ring in wonder, hoping that at least some of it was true. "May, I try 
it on?"

The merchant woman nodded. It slid easily onto Merle's furry
finger 
to fit perfectly, as if it were meant for her hand alone. She was 
staring at the jewel, cooing appreciatively at the swirling colors, 
when it suddenly let loose a blinding burst of light. Merle meowed 
out, while Kisai and his mother cried out, in astonishment.

"By Escaflowne's sword!" Eimi exclaimed once the glare
had 
gone. "I've never seen it do that before!" She took on a
strict, 
motherly tone. "You'd better give that back to me, girl, before
you 
hurt yourself."

Eager to be rid of the strange jewel, Merle nodded in agreement and 
pulled at the ring only to find that she couldn't get it past the 
first knuckle. She extended her thumb and index claws and tried 
prying it from her finger. When that failed, she vigorously shook her 
hand up and down, hoping that the furious motion would cause the 
thing to fly off. The stubborn jewel still sparkled at her finger. 
She mewed piteously at the surprised merchant and her son.

Eimi Karsile frowned, then sighed. "I guess it's taking a liking
to 
you. It has to be yours now." She shook her head when Merle began 
reaching for her purse. "You don't have to pay for it, little Merle. 
Mystic Moon items don't sell as well as they used to, and now I
think 
I'm better off without it."

Merle bit her lip, looked down at the ring, then up at Eimi. "It
is 
pretty," she murmured, once again admiring the reddish browns.

The merchant woman nodded. "Yes, and now I have to be seeing to our 
other customers. Good journey to you, little one. I hope you find 
what you're looking for." She moved to attend to a young man
who'd 
found a liking to several pots hanging from the door.

Merle had turned to leave when a small hand closed upon her arm.
"Mom 
said you were Merle," Kisai whispered. She confirmed the
statement 
with a nod. Kisai laughed and clapped his hands in excitement.
"So 
you were the one who traveled with the king and that girl from the 
Mystic Moon?" he cried eagerly. "The one with the
pendant?"

The catgirl grimaced and pulled at the little boy's grip.
"Yes!" she 
snapped. "I was the one with her. I need to be going now, so 
goodday!" She swiveled around, hoping that her tail would smack
the 
impudent urchin.

Kisai didn't release her arm. "I didn't mean to make you
mad," he 
replied nervously. "I'm sorry. It's just� I mean� I heard
the tales 
of White Dragon and the Great War, and I remember some of it too� 
It's just, well, that pendant seemed to be� special, I guess."

Merle didn't turn around, but she stopped trying to break the grip he 
had on her. "So?" What was so special about a stupid necklace?

The boy rubbed the back of his neck, swallowing down his anxiety.
"I 
dunno," he continued, "I guess, well, the pendant was kinda
meant for 
that girl from the Moon. I mean, it kinda started her off on her 
whole adventure right?"  Kisai swallowed again, seeing the hairs
on 
Merle's head rise up. "I'm just kinda saying that maybe, just
maybe! 
The ring was, well, kinda meant for you and wherever you might be 
going."

Merle crossed her arms. She actually liked the idea, but she
couldn't 
let him get away so easily. "So are you saying I'm just like
Hitomi? 
How insulting!"

"No!" he cried, not wanting to offend her further. "I'm just saying 
that maybe this means that you're just starting your own grand 
adventure now." He grinned his gap-toothed smile again. "They may 
even tell stories or sing songs about you!"

Merle was even more pleased at that thought, but she continued 
pretending she was still irate. "Well, maybe they will and maybe they 
won't! Now I have to go start off on my 'adventure,' if you don't 
mind."

Kisai grinned and saluted her, seeing right through her 
fascade. "Right!  Good journey!"

Merle grinned at the boy finally and shook his hand. "Bye!" she 
called as she headed down the road.

And thus, she thought happily, her furry nose raised high into the 
air, begins Merle's Great Adventure!

 Leavetakings Part 3
An Escaflowne Continuing Story Fanfic

Written by Serge
E-mail: sl236@h...
Website: http://sl236.robinson.cam.ac.uk



As Merle walked further away from the marketplace, the streets grew 
narrower, and quieter. The initial thrill following her decision to 
leave was beginning to wear off, and doubt was settling in. There 
must be somewhere to go to, she thought. Asturia, perhaps. But what 
would she do there? No, she needed to find somewhere where she fit 
in; somewhere where she was needed.

She spent several hours asking various caravans if they were allow 
her to join their procession, but to no avail. A fighter was useful, 
a strong, resourceful woman was useful, but a simple beastgirl who 
didn't even know how to cook soup was just another burden. There
was 
plenty of money left in her pouch, enough to buy her passage from 
here to Zaibach, but she had no desire to use up her resources when 
her journey had just begun.

When darkness settled in she finally gave up, wearily seeking out the 
nearest tavern. The shabby outer appearance of "The
Traveller's Shoe" 
made it obvious the accommodations would be mangy, but cheap. She 
arranged for a room for the night. It ended up being little more than 
a cupboard, but it had to do.

Sleep eluded her. The silence and the loneliness made her depressed, 
and a short growl from her stomach reminded her that she had not 
eaten since dinner the night before. After an hour or two of useless 
tossing and turnings, she got up and went down into the main dining 
hall.

The beastman behind the bar, one of the seafaring ottermen, was a 
nice enough individual considering the questionable 
surroundings. "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head, "but all we 
have left is some beef stew. It's been a busy day." She took a bowl, 
thanked the bartender profusely after leaving a small tip, and 
settled in an obscure corner to eat.

Once her hunger subsided she became interested in the conversation of 
the burly palace guard sitting nearest to her. Why, it seemed that 
the king was most distressed. A member of his court had run off that 
morning. Some cat-girl, cute and loved, but quite incapable of 
surviving on her own. Merle cringed and slumped down over her bowl 
hoping her face might not be seen.

The King had attempted to keep things discreet, disclosing the 
details to only a select few royal guards, but apparently the maid 
who'd initially found the note was a notorious gossip. As one of
the 
guards launched into a vivid, mocking description of her private 
letter, Merle flushed in embarrassment. She gulped down the rest of 
her soup then hurried back to her room, taking care to keep her face 
hidden. Once huddled in her bed, she tried to sort out her feelings.

So Van still cared! Or perhaps� perhaps it was just simple
concern 
for one of his palace attendants. How long ago their childhood days 
now seemed! She realized she could not stay in Fanelia any longer. 
The guards permeated the entire city making capture inevitable. She 
couldn't stand the thought of how humiliated she'd be,
returned to 
Van's feet like some stupid lost kitten! Van would probably be 
apologetic, of course, and would probably pay far more attention to 
her for at least a few days, but the root of the problem would remain.

Their relationship just couldn't be the same after Hitomi. She
forced 
back stinging tears as the feeling of loss washed over her. It was 
possible that she might never see him again!

Although� perhaps it was for the best. Tomorrow, then, she will
leave 
Fanelia. If no caravan would take her, she would go by foot. Somewhat 
comforted by her resolve, she fell asleep.

 Leavetakings Part 4
An Escaflowne Continuing Story Fanfic

Written by Nick
E-mail: TsengTurk1@a...


Manus was wandering through the woods, muttering to himself, "I
know 
Fanelia is around here somewhe--" when suddenly he was flat on
his 
face. 

He swore and picked himself up, looking disdainfully at the newest 
brown smear on his chest. His white fur was a magnet for dirt, and 
his natural clumsiness only added to the problem. He'd long ago
given 
up trying to keep the gleaming white to his coat like so many of his 
rather fastidious kind did. With mud and dirt constantly caked onto 
his fur, he often looked more like a calico. His sky blue eyes (and 
matching head hair) were accentuated quite well as a result, or so 
he'd been told.

He turned around to curse whatever tripped him to find the bottom of 
an oversized boot. A `melef? He peered up at the kneeling
mechanism. 
And unused, thank the gods. Whoever owned it was obviously not much 
of a caretaker; the thing was covered in clinging ivy, and a few 
birds had built nests on its shoulders. He wandered around to the 
front and gaped up at the magnificent white Guymelef.

"Okay," he murmured, "So what's this all about?" He
looked around and 
spotted a nearby tomb. Perhaps that was once the owner?

The cat-man shrugged. Oh well, I'll figure it out eventually, I'm 
certain. Now, where IS Fanelia�?

After a further romp through the woods (accompanied by the addition 
of a few more attractive brown splotches), the "Land Protected by 
Dragons" finally came into view. He set up camp, deciding it was 
better to rest before entering the city. A bath would have also been 
nice, but it could wait. Better to disguise his color anyway; the 
rarity always created a ruckus. He built a fire (land dragons tended 
to roam a bit more aggresively at night) and leaned back, chewing on 
a bit of catnip, reminding himself about his goal.

"My daughter," he sighed softly. It had been years since
he'd seen 
her beautiful baby features, but he remembered her scent, and he was 
determined to find her. He yawned, ending it with the mewling growl 
that only cats were capable of. Soon his ears and whiskers drooped, 
and Manus was fast asleep.

 Leavetakings Part 5
An Escaflowne Continuing Story Fanfic

Written by Nicholas Leifker
E-mail: nwl9354@u...


The woods surrounding Fanelia's capital was a heartwarming sight to 
the catgirl. How many times had she come through here with Balgus, or 
played in the treetops with Van?

She sniffed the air, and frowned. Was she alone? She could smell the 
musky scent of her own kind; a heady, spicy-sweet aroma that tickled 
at the edge of her nostrils. Whoever he was he had passed through 
less than an hour previous; within another hour, the winds would 
carry what was left of him beyond her senses. Sighing, she shook her 
head, and continued down the path.

Doubt and depression weighed heavily on her shoulders. Fanelia was -- 
correction, had been -- her home for nearly all her short life. She'd 
cried like never before when Zaibach had demolished the land, and 
then took delight and pride in its rise from the ashes. There were 
stones in those buildings that she'd placed down with her own two 
hands, but it was a place she absolutely had to leave behind.

Because�

Because she had to find a home of her own. She adjusted her pack and 
headed deeper into the woods, a feral smile broadening across her 
face. She had a good idea as to her direction now. After all, she'd 
traveled this way once before while fleeing the burning kingdom, and 
her senses had been imprinted with the sights and smells of the 
forest pathway. If she went this way, she'd most likely end up in 
Asturia, with its merchant-kings and dashing knights. It was a 
possible place to begin anew, assuming she could avoid the Knight 
Caeli Allen Schezar, or the youngest of the princesses, Millerna.

The smile remained on her face as the sun disappeared behind the 
trees. She had been domesticated, but she was by no means tame. Her 
kind had always loved the night, for the darkness was a predator's 
paradise, and she took to it lovingly. A spring appeared in her step, 
and she fought the urge to go on all fours and run with the wind. 
With each step, she could sense the life around her in a way she'd 
never experienced while enclosed within the man-made castle walls. 
Perhaps she was not as domesticated as she once believed�

She shook herself from those thoughts. She couldn't go chasing after 
some mouse, not now. She had to step lively if she wanted to make 
Asturia's frontier by dawn.

After a few further hours of walking, she frowned. She wasn't the 
only one around, she could smell it. Human, and by the sharp stench 
he was male, adult.

"Who's there?"

She whirled around, and found a dark shape looming above her. Too 
late she saw the glint of shimmering steel, and then all was black.

 Leavetakings Part 6
An Escaflowne Continuing Story Fanfic

Written by ra-tilt
E-mail: reywing@e...
Website: http://home.earthlink.net/~reywing



Merle opened her eyes. She spent several moments blinking, trying to 
clear her blurry vision while attempting to ignore the Ispanos that 
were hammering on the inside of her skull. In the meantime, she 
thanked all the gods for her life; the last thing she remembered was 
the flash of a swiftly descending sword, a sight that not many 
remembered afterwards. But then, where was the sword's owner?

Although her head continued to throb, her vision cleared, and she was 
able to take a good stock of her surroundings. She tried pulling 
herself to her feet, only to bump her ears against the top of a low 
roof. Bars greeted her from all sides. Outside the cage was a room of 
wooden walls devoid of windows, the only opening a single door, lit 
only by the light of two flickering candles. Her only other 
companion, seated at a nearby desk, seemed to be her captor, judging 
by the thick blade that rested at his side. White sleeves fluttered 
slightly as he wrote. Brown, oily hair rested on his shoulders. His 
bright red pants disappeared under the shadows, where the black 
stripes that lined the sides blended well with the darkness. When he 
turned his head to dip his quill, Merle caught sight of a dark brown 
beard and moustache.

"You!" she shouted. She rubbed the right side of her head, where 
she'd discovered a good size lump. "Let me out of here this
instant!"

The man paused in his writing to peer at her, giving her a good view 
of his entire face. Near his jawbone, blemishing the bottom of his 
cheek, rested an unusual tattoo. A black ellipse had been pierced 
with a sharply pointed line, the Gaean symbol for captivity.

"A slave trader!" Merle screamed, panic settling in. She continued to 
shriek, desperately hoping that there was someone around to hear her. 
She remembered the conditions young women were often subject to once 
they had been "acquired" by Traders such as he. As a
beastwoman, 
unbound by any legalities, her situation had become far, far graver.

The man stood, and her cries intensified. He swung out with one steel-
toed boot and smacked it against several of the metal bars. Shocked 
by the sudden rattle, Merle fell, her bottom barking against the 
wooden floor and her already wounded head clanging against a bar.

"Are you ready to be quiet now?" the man murmured. For someone who 
trafficked in people's lives, his voice was surprisingly
pleasant. 
She glared in response from her position on the floor, refusing to 
give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he'd hurt her.

He laughed. "A spirited one! I like that." The man dropped to
one 
knee, close enough that all of his features were now visible, but far 
enough that Merle's claws could not reach him. He was rather 
handsome, although marred by the ominous tattoo. A friendly smile 
raised the corners of his moustache. It didn't make him any more 
likeable. "Allow me to introduce myself," he began congenially. "My 
name is Oak."

"Oak?" Merle tried to laugh, hoping that it sounded mocking.

Oak smiled a little wider at the nervous quiver. "My mother and 
father said that they named me after the strongest tree in the woods. 
A poor family needs to give itself what little hope it can muster, 
wouldn't you agree?" She continued to glare. He continued, 
nonplussed. "And what is your name, little kitten?"

"Merle." She pushed herself to a sitting position and puffed out her 
chest. "Companion to King Van Slanzar de Fanel! And if you don't let 
me go, why, who knows how many people will be looking for you."
Her 
confidence increased as she continued her bluster. "They know I'm 
missing, and they've sent all sorts of people to look for me: 
trackers, bounty hunters, probably even the samurai Guymelef legion! 
I bet they've heard of my disappearance all the way to
Zaibach!" Oak 
hadn't budged. In fact, he was looking positively amused. Her
voice 
began to shake. "And-And one of the first places they'll look is
the 
s-slave auctions, don't you doubt it."

He patted the cage gently. "Well then, my lady Merle. I suppose we'll 
have to have the slave auction tonight instead of tomorrow."

She nearly screamed. "Tonight?  But, but�"

He nodded, grinning. "Oh, I have more than enough inventory by
now. 
It's probably best to let go of some of it before we move. As
soon as 
the sun sets we're going to have a big gathering right outside this 
cabin. I'm certain you'll be a big success." He chuckled.
"I'm 
certain there'll be at least one noble out there who'd enjoy
the 
company of a budding kitten." Oak patted the cage, derisively 
affectionate, before returning to his desk.

Merle fought tears. They were probably in the middle of the forest, 
where only either the dragons or those with dishonorable intentions 
roamed. No one would hear her cries. She didn't even have an idea
of 
how long she had left. Her claw found the ring from the Mystic Moon, 
still stubbornly wrapped around her finger. An artifact that from the 
Place of Ill Omen, Eimi Karsile had said.

Ill Omen indeed.


Manus ordered a beer from the tavern waitress, a fetching blonde 
catwoman who pursed her lips seductively at him as she walked 
away. "If only I were a little younger," he sighed, smiling wistfully 
as he watched the sway of her striped tail. Fanelia was turning out 
to be a big place. Surely not as big as Palas, or even Godashim, but 
big nonetheless.

"Excuse me, sir." A Fanelian soldier thrust a piece of paper
in his 
face. Manus took it. "MISSING" was imprinted at the top, and
a sketch 
took up most of the rest of page. "She was spotted here a while
ago, 
but now we believe she has left the city. If you see her, please 
inform the nearest soldier." The man saluted and marched away.

Manus' breath caught in his throat. Tears burned at the corners
of 
his eyes. He didn't even notice when the waitress returned and
placed 
his mug on the table before him (affording an ample view of her furry 
bosom).

This "Merle" was his daughter.

 Leavetakings Part 7
An Escaflowne Continuing Story Fanfic

Written by Monica Ho
E-mail: monicaho@m...
Note: Special thanks to Lorelei Bassi for her big help in editing!


Cobra

Legend has it, the bride adorned by the silk of the dragons will be 
the happiest bride in all of Gaea�


A retreat was in order.

The giggling of the servant girls, the nervous pouts of the 
seamstresses, and the careless taunts from Princess Sasha of Kanaphra 
were just too much. The point of watching a woman try on bridal gowns 
escaped him; they hadn't even glanced his way for quite a while. 
Suffocated (and a little bitter), he trotted silently away, thrilled 
at his rather successful escape.

The fresh air of the courtyard instantly cleared his head. Kanaphra, 
colonized by Zaibach years ago, had risen to great powers since the 
Great War. Despite recent reports that the budding country had begun 
to invade its formerly Zaibach-controlled neighbors, the Pharaoh had 
sent only friendly overtures to Fanelia.

Van discovered that the reconstruction was costing much in the way of 
natural resources. Since most of Fanelia's own had been burned,
it 
had to be acquired and purchased. The Pharaoh had been unusually 
generous and thus the bride to be of the said ruler was here to 
receive a gift of the finest wedding gown in Gaea, a dress made from 
Fanelia's most prided production: Dragon Silk.

Wildly speculated to have originated in Atlantis, Dragon Silk was the 
most profitable export of Fanelia. No where else could one find 
fabric more iridescent, pure, and gentle to the flesh.

Its secret was one of Varie Escariina Fanel's final gifts.

It struck Van that the princess might not so be cordial (although her 
version of "cordial" paralleled a pirate's) after such a
sudden 
disappearance on his behalf. But with Merle gone� Van clenched
his 
fists. Where could she be? Van didn't know whether release his fury 
at the inept soldiers who'd returned empty-handed, or to kick
himself 
for not noticing what was wrong with her sooner. He clutched his 
head, fighting back a cry of frustration. With Merle gone, with his 
mind in a constant state of worry, how could he concentrate on 
politics and diplomacy?



Night fell. Princess Sasha had excused herself from dinner, sending 
her lady-in-waiting to elegantly apologize to the King, informing him 
that her mistress had a headache and would like to rest early. Van 
believed that story as much as he believed that the city of Atlantis 
would rise again. He respectively expressed his regards for the 
princess and dismissed the young girl with all the well-wishes he 
could fabricate.

Thus, the dining hall was silent.

Van thought that he would enjoy a peaceful meal by himself after all 
that fuss over silk and weddings and the endless giggles and servants 
running everywhere and the gods forbid he repeat that pretentious 
speech he'd given Princess Sasha's maid�

"Merle," he began, turning towards her customary seat at his
side. 
Then he caught himself, remembering her absence. He threw his fork at 
the rich fish in front of him.

For the first time since Van returned to Fanelia, he felt truly 
lonely.



Seated on top of a hill behind the castle, Van took a deep breath and 
felt the soft moon light purify the darkness around him.

Hitomi�

Van looked up at the Mystic Moon. Instead of a raven haired, bronze 
skinned beauty, Van saw the soft feathers of the Dragon Silk fabric 
ripple around a young, short-haired girl whose face was decorated 
with only an innocent and sweet smile.

Van glanced at the sword lying next to him in the grass, the ancient 
symbol of Fanelia's kingship, and buried his face in his hands.
How 
could he go on like this, discontent and uncertain, plagued by 
heartache and loss?

The moon's light beamed upon him momentarily. He looked up to see 
Hitomi reprimanding him, silently, with a slightly knotted brow and a 
soft, scolding frown. Van's hand closed upon her pendant, holding it 
tight against her heart. "Forgive me, Hitomi," he murmured
aloud. "I 
remember now: Responsibility, Faith, and Courage."



A faint whistle interrupted Van's return to the castle. The tune
was 
nearly inaudible, but the melody naturally drew out a poisoned well 
of painful memories. He walked towards the Fanelian royal graves, 
where Escaflowne stood a silent vigil.

Folken, have you returned to mock me?

Although the moon was unusually bright over the valley, the woods 
were draped in darkness, and only Van's memory kept his pathway
true. 
When he finally reached the clearing, the tune had stopped. Before 
him the soft leaves opened to reveal not his deceased brother, but a 
thin, dark figure with luscious raven hair. She stood before 
Escaflowne's dormant figure, facing the solemn graves. Crowning
her 
head, pinning a soft green mantilla in place, rested a coiled cobra 
made of gold.

Had his ears deceived him?

"Princess Sasha!" Van didn't even try to conceal the look of surprise 
on his face. "What are you--"

His eyes widened as Sasha swiftly withdrew her sword, successfully 
rendering him incapable of finishing the question. Van instinctively 
took a step back, his right hand reaching over to grip the shaft of 
the royal sword.

"Funny how life toys with us," the princess said, her musical voice 
piercing the silence of the forest clearing. She seemed to be talking 
to herself, never shifting her gaze away from one of the silent 
graves. The sword now pointed downward in a gesture of courtesy. She 
drew a shuddering sigh. "After all those attempts to capture the 
dragon, it now lies alone, guarded by nothing but ivy. And yet its 
seekers are no longer anywhere in sight." Van felt a shiver when 
Sasha's green eyes suddenly penetrated him. "Quite the waste,
isn't 
it?"

He found himself at a loss for words, his gaze transfixed at the dark 
figure engulfed by Escaflowne's silver frame. Frantically, his
mind 
tried to piece together the little information he knew about the 
royal Kanaphrian, regretting his lack of interest in political 
gossip. The only sibling of the old Pharaoh, probably in her early 
twenties, and was heir to the land of the winged dragons. The sandy 
soil was rich in Energists, probably spelling the reason why the 
country was the first to fall under Zaibach's heel�

Zaibach! Dornkirk! Why didn't I think of it earlier? Using a
maiden's 
flitty desires under the covert goal of stealing the vaunted 
Guymelef! Van felt a sudden fury at the "thief" before him,
whose 
dishonorable intentions desecrated the graves before them. Upon 
hearing the hiss of the King's steal leaving its leather sheathe,
the 
princess turned toward him, raising her in a defensive posture.

"Escaflowne belongs to Fanelia!" he snarled. His sword
quivered, 
hungry for the upcoming fight.

Sasha cocked her brow, annoyed and confused. "So what?"

Van's sword was quick to strike, his rush forward lost in the 
darkness. Sasha frowned as she drew up her sword to block, using the 
momentum of Van's thrust against her to leap backwards. A smile crept 
upon her face as Van once again rushed her with a roar. "I accept the 
challenge, King Van."

Sasha was quick, surpassing even his own speed, though her base 
strength was several notches below him. She rarely blocked, choosing 
instead to shift away from his swings and stabs, using her energy 
instead for rapid, stinging attacks of her own. Her sword meandered 
through the space around him, constantly in search for openings. It 
would pierce through the air on one side of him, distracting him for 
the brief moment it took for her to find another spot to strike. The 
rapid side-to-side dance brought to mind the ugly, venomous creature 
that decorated her headpiece. Van grimaced, glancing only momentarily 
at the golden snake.

A fraction of carelessness was all Sasha needed. She threw herself at 
him left shoulder first, using her full body weight to smash him into 
the nearest tree. The royal sword flew into the blackness of the 
forest, and his breath exploded from his lungs. Her back was now open 
to Van's right hand, but kill her he would have to risk thrusting his 
sword into his own heart. Van closed his eyes and braced himself. 
Sasha had already shifted her sword to a backhand position down her 
arm, her blade supported by her elbow, the tip angled for his throat.

The pull on his neck was unexpected. Even more surprising was the 
feel of soft lips briefly against his. He opened his eyes to stare 
into a pair of green, teasing lights. Sasha laughed, and shoved 
herself away from him. Van stood motionless against the tree, staring 
at the giggling figure in front of him, wondering if the rumors of 
inbreeding, and subsequent madness, within the Kanaphra royal family 
held any truth.

Then Sasha teasingly held up a pink stone in her left hand. His hand 
instinctively closed upon his chest, only to find a loose leather 
string where Hitomi's pendant had once hung.

"Return that to me!" Van lunged for the princess, but was forced to 
halt. With a flick of the wrist, the tip of Sasha's sword had left a 
small, ragged hole in his shirt near his heart.

Van's blood froze when she threw her left hand against her mouth and 
swallowed. She then raised her palm to him to wave, revealing that it 
was now completely empty.

"NO!" he cried, paralyzed by the outrageous gesture.

"Yummy!" Sasha rubbed her stomach for emphasis, then shot him the 
smile of a spoilt child.

 Leavetakings Part 8
An Escaflowne Continuing Story Fanfic

Written by Monica Ho
E-mail: monicaho@m...
Note: Special thanks to Lorelei Bassi for her big help in editing!


Promise

A chilling shriek pierced the silence at the Schezar estate.

Allen bolted from his bed. He'd been a light sleeper as of late.
A 
nearby candle provided guidance in the darkness as he ran down the 
hallway. Although his heart already told him that it was futile to 
look, he threw open the doors to his sister's room, hoping that
this 
time it would be different.

Celena wasn't in her bed, as usual, but he knew where to find her.

From the shadows came another blood-curdling cry. He rushed towards 
his sister, gathering her wasted figure in his arms. She sobbed, her 
bone-like fingers clutching at his nightwear as he murmured soft 
reassurances and stroked her coarse mop of hair.

Celena would not release him, not even when he returned her to the 
soft folds of her bed. A horrified expression was frozen on her face, 
and the tears flowed too freely. Her deep blue eyes, sunken into two 
blackened holes, saw a crimson terror that she could feel, but not 
see. She drew him to her, hoping to disappear into oblivion between 
her brother's strong arms.

Eventually exhaustion won her over and Celena fell into a death-like 
sleep. Allen silently removed his sister's fingers from his
sleeve 
and covered her in the thick comforter. "Celena," he pleaded,
"tell 
me what to do. Tell me what's wrong. Just� come back to
me."

The thick feather pillows and similarly thick blanket seemed to 
engulf her depleted form. Allen lay down beside her, intent on 
keeping her company until dawn. How could he sleep when it was 
possible he was losing his dear sister all over again?

He closed his eyes tight, fighting tears of frustration. During the 
trip home Celena had suddenly become incoherent and unresponsive, 
although there were a few blessed moments when she cried out to him 
in recognition with a smile brightening her beautiful face. Once 
home, there were absolutely beautiful days when she could be 
perfectly normal, in body and in mind, acting as if she'd never
left. 
But then the nightmares had started, and then increased, depleting 
her spiritually and physically. Nearly every waking moment held for 
her some unspeakable horror, leaving her standing or sitting or lying 
in some twisted, comatose state. After a while, food had to be forced 
down her throat, a task that disheartened him, and sleep became more 
of a horror than a relief.

The tears came then, silently falling down his cheeks to dampen the 
pillow underneath. There was nothing he could do but watch her die.



Eries loved the fresh sea breeze in the morning. From where she stood 
she could see as far as the pink coral reef that encircled the shore 
of Asturia, glistening in the cool sunlight. Gracefully she walked 
around the circular grave markers and laid light purple flowers on 
Encia Schezar's resting place. She comforted the soul with her 
smile. "You should be proud," she murmured. "Not only is
your son now 
the most honored knight in Asturia, he also brought your daughter 
back to you." After a few moments she headed off to another
corner of 
the cemetery, trailing a few dancing purple petals.

A few yards away was an unmarked stone, neatly kept. Dried flowers 
from her last visit quivered in the wind. Eries settled down and 
replaced them with fresh ones. After she removed the few strands of 
unwelcome grass, she dusted the stone with her handkerchief. Her 
personal sanctuary�

"Why must women always grieve?" she whispered.

The flowers did not reply.

"Folken." She closed her eyes, and wondered if the feather buried 
under the stone was still as beautiful, as pure, as it was on the day 
he had given it to her. "Was it supposed to bring me luck? Or did you 
intend to give me ten years of bitter pain?" Her delicate fingers 
grasped the cold circular stone and she cried out, "Answer
me!" to 
the air around her. Stinging tears bit at the corners of her eyes as 
she remembered the night from so long ago�



Fanelia, thought a young Eries. Such a strange country: so quiet, so 
poor, and yet everyone seems to be so content. She carefully selected 
her pathway around the garden within the Fanelia's green roofed 
castle, avoiding the well lighted areas and watching carefully for 
the guards. It would seem scandalous for a maiden of the Asturian 
Royal Family to be caught scurrying around at this late hour. But the 
night-time blossoms, so different than the ones at home, had beckoned 
to her to come enjoy their fragrance, and she couldn't resist.

A dew-moistened bench provided an ample view of the flora. She had 
accompanied her father and her mother in a diplomatic mission around 
Gaea, resigning current trade agreements and hopefully opening new 
ones, and tomorrow they would finally return home. She was longing 
for a sense of familiarity, even if it was the musty smell of the 
books in the castle library or the pungent aroma of fish at the 
marketplace.

The entire trip she'd spent being courteous and displaying the
proper 
mannerisms of a visiting dignitary, but what was the point when no 
one noticed? Eyes immediately went to her elder sister, whose beauty 
was astounding. When combined with her sweet demeanor, she had 
conquered the hearts of many foreign noblemen. Her younger
sister's 
adorable innocence brought joy and laughter to halls that were 
normally bereft of children (the Queen Mother would not let 
mischievous Millerna out of her sight, even for important social 
events). But Eries, who tried so hard just to be a good princess, was 
plain and boring. Miserable, she drew in a shuddering sigh.

"You must be cold." A light wool cloak was placed gently on her 
shoulders. She looked up to find a pair of smiling reddish eyes 
beaming down at her.

"Oh!" Eries jumped to her feet and folded her hands in front of her 
demurely. Of all people to catch her here, it had to be the Heir 
Prince of Fanelia! "Pardon me, I must have forgotten the time." She 
stared red-faced at her feet, searching for some appropriate excuse.

"I seem to have done that myself," he said. He ran his
fingers 
through his hair, which shined like the sea in the moonlight.
"I'm on 
my way to visit some friends in need. Would you like to accompany
me?"

Eries blinked in confusion, immediately suspicious, but then looked 
back into the prince's boyish grin and relaxed. His father had
died 
of illness only days before, leaving a Queen too deep in mourning to 
rule and two young sons. Thus, the Eldest Prince, though only 
fifteen, was soon to become King of the Country Protected by Dragons, 
and the good word was that he was kind, virtuous, and wise. A number 
of maidens were eager to catch his eye. She blushed.

"Where are we going, Prince Folken?"

"Just come." He offered her his hand. "Don't you trust me?"
he added, 
looking wounded.

She laughed and took his hand. He led her out of the garden and 
beyond the castle grounds. They spoke only a little, both enjoying 
the music from the nature around them, and just the company of each 
other. The night air was cool, but Folken was leading her uphill and 
by the time they had reached their destination both were flushed. 
Pausing to catch her breath, Eries looked back and gasped at the 
sight. All of Fanelia's woods and towns were spread out before
her, 
and there was enough height to see the meeting of the far off 
mountains and where they met the sparkling lights of the nighttime 
stars. Her father would have disapproved, and she told herself that 
she should be frightened at such a rash decision, but for some reason 
she could feel nothing but safe around the gentle, soft-spoken young 
man. She stole another glance at Prince Folken, who was now looking 
up at a deep-rooted tree few yards ahead.

"We're here," he announced, and gestured for her to come closer. Next 
to his side, Eries followed his gaze to a dark nest of twigs and 
twines hidden in the core of extended branches. A few tiny shadows 
occasionally popped up from the mess, and their small, hungry cries 
pierced the night.

She chuckled, "So this is your extended family, my Prince."

"I found them a few days ago by accident," Folken explained
as he 
pulled out a small bag from his pocket "One had fallen out of the 
nest, and the rest were starving to death. I waited, but the mother 
never showed up, so I moved the nest higher up on the tree to protect 
them from predators." He smiled wistfully. "Now I suppose I'm
their 
self-proclaimed guardian. Would you like to feed them?" he
wondered 
as he turned towards Eries, bag held out.

She craned her neck up at the nest and then apologized, gesturing at 
her skirts. "I'd love to, but I couldn't possibly climb that
tree."

Folken's smile twisted mischievously. "Do you trust me?" Eries 
hesitated slightly before nodding.

Folken took a step back, pulled his tunic over his head, and laid it 
carefully on a nearby rock. At the sight of his naked chest her 
cheeks burned. What sort of prince bared himself before a maiden? She 
began to doubt his intentions.

Then from his back his wings gently burst and wrapped gracefully 
around his body. Stray feathers flew about in the wind, settling 
somewhere, anywhere, flurrying chaotically about, mirroring her 
current emotional state. She didn't cry, she didn't run,
seemingly 
brave in front of such a shocking sight, but the truth was that her 
lungs were refusing to take in air and her legs no longer obeyed her 
command. Eries steeled herself for anything, using strict court 
discipline to force herself to breathe and her limbs to stop 
trembling.

And, surprisingly, her lips broke into a smile of wonderment.

Folken had brought her along on such a grueling path, then exposed 
his darkest secret to her with the intention of breaking the prim and 
proper young girl to tears and whines. He'd been unable to
understand 
this Asturian princess, for while her sisters were both charming and 
innocent, this one had shown nothing beyond that which made her seem 
vapid and haughty. The demand of his possible kingship and the deep 
misery from the loss of his father he'd had to hide, and he'd
thought 
he'd found a perfect target to release his frustrations upon.
Now, 
looking at the bright expression that warmed her normally cool 
expression, he felt ashamed at having even thought of using her so. 
He looked away, cursing himself.

"I� I'm sorry." Folken had prepared a snarling
explanation for his 
heritage, to combat the cries of outrage and fear that normally came 
from seeing the true form of a half-Atlantean. Now he was at a loss 
for words.

"They are pretty."

"What?" Folken willed himself to look at the princess. His surprised 
expression only stretched her smile further.

"Your wings, I think they are very pretty." Of course she knew about 
the Atlanteans and their cursed heritage, and the fact that the 
Fanelian prince shared some of their blood was indeed shocking. She 
could sense that he was uneasy, and she assured him with her smile 
that no explanation was needed. He'd been wonderfully handsome
and 
kind to begin with, and the wings only served to make him beautiful. 
There was no reason for her to fear him. She reached for the 
bag. "Aren't we suppose to feed those to the babies?"

The frown on his face turned upwards into a gentle smile as he 
gathered Eries in his arms and flew toward the heart of the tree. She 
tensed up immediately, although he pretended not to notice. "There is 
something else I forgot to tell you." Folken looked down at Eries, 
her face buried into the skin nearest his heart. "They're not
birds."

"Excuse me?" she whispered breathlessly, caught in the thrill of 
flying and the closeness of him.

Folken carefully landed on the tree branch, and Eries noticed the 
nest was far larger than she had first thought. "They're baby
terra-
dragons." Sitting behind Eries, with his arm wrapped around her waist 
for support, he reached over to play with the little green dragons 
tumbling about within their crowded nest. They joyfully nipped at his 
outreached fingers, and one crawled to the top to sniff inquisitively 
at Eries.

"Babies?" Eries was worried and edged closer to Folken.
"They're 
larger thann full-grown cats!"

"Don't worry, they won't bite to hurt." He tightened his hold around 
Eries, sensing her fear. "Adult dragons would hunt us because
they 
fear us." One of the babies had turned itself over and Folken
began 
scratching the exposed belly. "These ones only know me as a friend."

Eries held out her hand reluctantly; she'd read and heard too
many 
tales of the viciousness of Fanelia's terra dragons and was hard 
pressed to believe that their offspring would be any less. Folken 
placed something wet and cold in her hand. She looked down to behold 
several pieces of raw scrap meat.

"Here," Folken took her hand and slowly offered it to the nest.

Eries gasped, instinctively trying to withdraw her hand, but it was 
too late. Three of the hungry babies had already leapt for her palm 
and were scrambling about to tear apart the delicious meal. She was 
fearful that they would bite her in the process, but the dragon 
offspring were surprising careful. Their tiny, slick tongues began 
lapping her palm, ridding it of the remainder of the meat juices and 
she giggled at the tickling sensation. Folken had already taken out a 
handful himself, and the remainder of the brood was doing the same to 
him. They both reached for another handful, touching fingers in the 
process. Shyly, Eries withdrew, blushing a bit at the brief, intimate 
contact.

After the babies were satiated, they left the small sack for them to 
gnaw on. Folken once again gathered her in his arms and returned them 
both to the ground. The sudden flight exhilarated her, and she threw 
her arms around him. "Thank you!" she cried. "I will
never forget 
this wonderful experience!" Another moment passed, clasped within
his 
embrace, and she realized what she was doing and how inappropriately 
she was acting. She released her hold on him and looked shamefully 
down at the ground. "That is," she stammered, "I-I truly
thank you 
for sharing this with me."

Folken smiled softly at her sudden change. He grasped her hand and 
pointed upwards at a sudden streak of light. "A shooting star," he 
murmured. "In Fanelia, it's a sign that a fateful event is
soon to 
happen."

"In Asturia," Eries whispered, "we make a wish."

The star quickly disappeared behind the far-off mountains, and 
trailing after it came the break of dawn. The first beams of sunlight 
spilled over the mountaintops onto the valley kingdom, making the 
surrounding woods once more a brilliant green. Punctuating the middle 
was Fanelia itself, the simple houses just beginning to stir with the 
first signs of human life. Eries was so mesmerized by this new, 
magnificent sight that she had to remind herself how to breathe.

"I wished," said the young prince, breaking the awe-inspired 
silence, "that Fanelia would always stay peaceful and prosperous,
so 
that my people will never have to suffer." His smile had turned 
downwards, and the heavy pains of future responsibility and current 
sorrow discolored his innocent wish. But the emotion was brief, and 
Eries barely caught it before he turned to her, once again light-
hearted, to ask, "So what did you wish for?"

"Me?" Eries blushed and looked away from him and the awesome sight 
below. "Only� only that one day we would see each other again."

An awkward period of silence followed. Eries wished the darkness 
still surrounded them so that the red in her cheeks would not be 
seen. She looked up, fearful that he'd mock her in some way.
Instead, 
she beheld a face whose compassion for the moment matched her own. He 
reached behind himself, folding his wings into nothingness at the 
same time, and brought forth a shimmering feather. "Here."

She marveled at its softness and ran two fingers up its sides. She 
looked up to thank him, and he put a finger to her lips.

"For luck, and a promise." He placed a kiss gently on her 
forehead. "I promise to make your wish come true."



"A promise," Eries whispered to the silent grave. The harsh, noon-
time sun was overbearing the cool, morning sea breeze. Eries squinted 
as the brutal rays bounced off the white stone and pierced her eyes.

"A promise unkept," she whispered bitterly. Shortly after
their 
return to Fanelia a message had been sent, proclaiming that both the 
Crown Prince and the Queen of Fanelia had disappeared. One rumour had 
it that he was dead, and in sorrow the queen had followed. The other 
was that the prince had forsaken his duties, a coward, a liar, and 
had run away from the Dragonslaying Ritual that was a prerequisite to 
the Fanelian crown. When she'd heard the news, her knees had
given 
way, and she'd slumped to the floor in front of a surprised group
of 
family members. Her elder sister had helped her to her room, while 
shushing her denials and frantic sobs.

Folken would never run away. Never! He loved his country, he would 
not abandon his people. And he'd made a promise to her! How was
he to 
keep it if he was gone?

Many things changed in ten years. Her mother passed away, and soon 
afterwards her sister was married into the royal family of Fried 
(though Eries was quick to note the miserable eyes on one specific 
Knight Caeli). She raised Millerna, cared for her frequently sick 
father, and learned how to govern behind the scenes. But what was 
duty when her one, longing wish could never be fulfilled? Instead, 
she turned away suitors, gave everything she was for royal 
obligation, and shuffled her heart into a golden box along with that 
treasured feather.

�until that one day when Folken Lacour de Fanel showed up in a 
Zaibach floating fortress.



The ambassador arrived, cloaked in black and deep in voice. When he 
presented himself to her father, she hid in the shadows. Already 
he'd "explained" the rumours of the destruction of
Fanelia and the 
attack on the Asturian outpost (clearly lies, but her father seemed 
not to notice), but it was the face that held her more than his 
words. Older, malicious, and now marked by strange tattoos, but she 
couldn't deny who it was.

She ran to her room and wrenched open the box that had lain silently 
at her bedside all these years. Inside waited that perfect white 
feather, although now she thought it stained by blood.

At the banquet, Folken and the comely young commander, Dilandau 
Albatou, (who'd cracked the back of his hand on a servant who
spilled 
vino on his lap, an incident which made everyone present flinch, but 
remain silent under the pressure of Zaibach retaliation) were the 
guests of honor. Eries managed to excuse herself early. Folken had 
treated her like he'd treated everyone else, with cool courtesy,
and 
she'd no longer been able bear it. Her father raised his eyebrow
at 
her unnatural break of protocol, but she was beyond caring.

Had he forgotten her? Was that night nothing to him, other than some 
flitting romp with a foreign maiden? She clenched her fists, fighting 
tears, cursing herself for keeping alive such a childish, foolish 
notion of love for all these years.

The first of her tears had escaped, and burned a salty pathway down 
her cheek, when a haunting melody wafted through the corridor from 
the garden beyond. She swallowed the remainder of her desolation and 
buried it under curiousity. The plucked strings were resonating like 
the typical harp, but the chords were harsh and dissonant. She paused 
at the edge of the greenery when a woman's voice joined the 
cacophony. Pitched low, but smooth as Dragonsilk, it wove through the 
strange harp music and made it into a piece that was beautiful but 
outlandish, and exotic in the extreme.

From the entranceway the back of the musician could be seen. She sat 
on the grass, cross-legged, and face to the stars. Hair that shamed 
the night flowed down her nearly bare back whose skin, Eries 
suspected, would have been dark even in daylight. She strummed the 
strings of what she recognized as a Kanaphrian lute, as rare as a 
terra dragon in these parts, which she'd only seen sketched in
books. 
Eries immediately took affront at the lack of modesty of the young 
woman, whose long, shapely legs were bared from mid-thigh down, whose 
arms were bared past the shoulder, and whose breasts were unhindered 
by corset or covering. The white dress, in fact, left little to the 
imagination. Eries' own wardrobe, with the starched collar,
billowing 
skirts, and primly wrapped hair, was far more proper, and she had to 
withhold herself from reprimanding such a blatant disregard for 
Asturian customs.

The gleam of the silver cobra coiled on the girl's left arm
caught 
her eye. She remembered, suddenly, that Zaibach had wrapped its fist 
tightly around Kanaphra, and that this girl had more than likely been 
part of Folken's entourage.

The music stopped, then, as if on cue, and so did Eries' heart. She 
hid herself behind a pillar. Emerging from the shadows he came, his 
sea-green hair blending in with the local botany. Only the wind dared 
to stir his dark cloak, but all other elements of the night trembled 
before his malevolent aura. Then the elaborate mask fell as that 
smile Eries had seen so long ago smoothed away the arrogance.

"I didn't know how much I missed your voice until I heard you from my 
chamber," Folken said gently, everything but his head obscured in 
that great cloak. Eries winced at the affection in his voice.

"Spare me the act," spat the girl. She flung the lute into the grass, 
where it bounced on the ground with a jarring noise. "Save your 
kindness for your beast-brats."

"So now what have they done, Sasha?"

"Nothing," she snapped. "Nothing that can be proven. They will be 
joining you soon." She brought up her legs, rested her chin on her 
knees. She'd turned towards Eries enough that she could see
beautiful 
features that were contorted into a childish pout. "If it weren't for 
you, I would have killed the felines a long time ago. They are truly 
annoying!"

"They mean no harm, Sasha."

"They are quite possessive."

"A quality that you do NOT possess?" Folken smiled twisted into an 
amused sneer.

The dark girl elegantly lifted herself to her feet, then flung her 
arms around Folken's neck. He began to remove herself from him, 
drawing himself away with a grimace. She stopped him, her voice 
shaking, with a simple question. "Do you hate me so?"

He turned his head away, his expression softening. "You know that I 
cannot�"

"No, don't," Sasha sealed Folken's lips with the tip of her 
finger. "I know. I know that you will never love me as a man does a 
woman. Your first love is your science, your ideals, your future." 
She gave Folken a bright smile that smoothed away the arrogance and 
insolence, leaving just her exotic beauty. "Even if I am just a means 
to your end, even if you care for me only as a commander does his 
soldier, if you do not leave me I will be happy."

Her hold tightened around his body. For a moment they stood, staring 
in one another's eyes. Eries could not read the expression on his 
face; the angle of the moonlight having made him nothing more than a 
shadowy silhouette.

"Kiss me," the girl whispered, "and even if you do not
mean it, I 
will, and I can love you still."

Eries held her breath.

Folken's hesitation took up a moment of eternity.

Then their lips met, her body crushed to his, Eries' heart
shattering 
like dropped glass. She sobbed aloud, forgetting her position.

Though she had no weapon of her own, Folken's sword was just as 
sharp. Eries turned to find Sasha bearing down on her like a mad 
predator. Too late, she turned to run down the corridor to the 
sanctuary of the castle walls. Her collar tightened around her neck 
and she was flung roughly over stone wall and through sharp bushes 
into the castle garden. The earth greeted her painfully, the impact 
sweeping the breath from her lungs. Eries pushed herself up by the 
elbow and found the flat of the sword pressed against her cheek. The 
deadly smile under her cold, preying eyes brought to mind the horrid 
snake coiled around her arm.

"Sasha, cease." Folken's calm voice floated from the night. "She is 
Asturian royalty."

Sasha frowned, disappointment apparent. She knelt down next to Eries, 
grasping the elder girl's chin between her strong fingers and
pulling 
her face towards her own. "Just like Aston, sending his own daughter 
to spy for him." Sasha smiled, "Ironic isn't it? When he betrayed my 
family 13 years ago, did he think that one day his own daughter would 
die at the hands of his betrayee?"

"Be silent!" Eries cried, jerking her head away. "My
father would do 
no such thing!"

Sasha neatly backhanded the princess, then stood, casually holding 
the sword at her side.

Then she pulled back, and the long, gleaming edge arced down at the 
astonished woman's head.

Sparks flew as metal collided, on what Eries was not sure. She 
screamed, throwing her arms over the top of her head. What she saw 
when she finally found the courage to look astonished her.

Folken was holding the sword by not the handle, which was still in 
Sasha's firm grip, but the blade. His whole arm, now fully
visible, 
from shoulder to fingertip was covered in metal, wires, and tubules. 
It was if someone had stripped the skin from him only to find that 
he'd been made like some toymaker's expensive doll.
Eries' jaw 
dropped, now more frightened of her old love than she was of her 
possible murder.

"How DARE you," Sasha snarled.

"I will not have you jeopardizing the relationship between Zaibach 
and Asturia for something so petty as revenge," he hissed, snatching 
the sword easily from her.

There was no tenderness in the gaze that the two now shared. Eries 
feared that either Sasha would once again take possession of the 
weapon or that Folken would use that hideous contraption to somehow 
harm the far smaller young girl. The contest of wills lasted on a few 
seconds before one relented.

Sasha stamped her foot like a child denied. Then she took a deep, 
shuddering breath and slowly exhaled. "Whatever. I am returning to 
Vione now. I will await the news of your success." With that, she 
walked to the pond, picked up her abandoned lute, and disappeared 
from the garden.

They were alone now. Eries was far from prepared. So she did nothing, 
waiting for Folken to make the first move.

Then Folken offered her his hand, a warm and gentle hand of flesh and 
blood. Reluctantly Eries took it, and Folken helped her to her feet. 
Her knees shook and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself. 
Folken placed the sword back into its sheath, once again revealing 
the absurd construct that was apparently now his right arm.

"Why?" she whispered.

Folken never looked at her, his body turned away and his eyes to the 
floor. "I'm sorry, Eries."

He looked at her, and she saw the false teardrop on his face, mocking 
the real ones that now painted streaks down her cheeks. His mouth 
opened as if to tell her, explain to her, apologize more, but then it 
closed, and he turned away.

"Folken!" she shrieked, the shattered remains of her heart
poured 
into the outcry. He neither turned nor hesitated, and the shadows 
swallowed him. She fell to her knees, sobbing, ripping apart the 
grass with her finely manicured nails, heedless of the dirt and the 
insects, only aware that she'd never let herself love this way
ever 
again.



Allen saw the fresh flowers on his mother's grave, and wondered if 
the elder princess was still around.

Celena awoke, immediately laughing at the songbirds perched on her 
windowsil. If it were not for his own exhausted state and his 
sister's ragged appearance, Allen could have convinced himself
that 
Celena was healing. The weather and the optimism made for a lovely 
day for a walk, so he decided upon a visit to their mother. It had 
been a while since they'd paid their respects.

Celena was gaily chasing butterflies when Allen spotted the graceful 
form of the princess cresting a nearby hill. When she was close 
enough, he granted her a deep, gentlemanly bow. "Princess."

"Sir Allen," Eries returned the curtsey as Allen brought her hand to 
his lips. "Celena's health seems to be improving."

Unable to bring himself to deny the possibility, Allen merely nodded. 
They stood nearby, watching her in silence, lost in their own 
thoughts.

"Is the castle your next destination?" he murmured finally.

"Actually," Eries replied. "I was hoping to go to the bazaar. Would 
you and your sister care to join me?"

Allen bent to guide Celena to her feet. Eries smiled affectionately 
at the girl, who, to the sadness of them both, returned only a vapid 
grin.



"Sorry!" Sasha covered her mouth like an absent-minded little 
girl. "I guess now you'll have to cut me open to get it." A wild 
giggle floated up from beneath her hand.

Hell's fire could not compare with the fury that surged through Van. 
He charged toward Sasha like lightening; the tip of his sword 
trailing behind him. Before Sasha could strike, Van had already 
brought up his blade with both hands and sliced at Sasha's waist. He 
wanted to cut her in half.

With only a second to respond to the sudden burst of speed, Sasha 
instinctively managed to bring up her sword against Van's blade. 
Metal clashed, and the sparks blinded Sasha as she found herself 
thrown sideways on to the ground. Van's force had knocked her off 
balance.

But there was no time to think. Van struck again, this time the blade 
crashed down on top of Sasha's head. Despite the pain in her limbs, 
Sasha quickly held up her sword to stop its path. She could feel the 
warm fluid sliding down from her hand and staining her arm with 
streaks of red... Against the pressure, the shaft of her sword had 
ripped open the muscles in her palm.

Standing over her, Van pressed his weight down on the sword, his mad 
eyes threatening to swallow her alive.

In a miraculous burst of energy, Sasha pushed against Van. Just a 
fraction of a second, but the time allowed her to roll to the side as 
Van's sword stuck the ground beside her head. Sasha could hear the 
air being ripped apart right next to her ears.

She sat up, and Van's sword was waiting for her. "Give it back to 
me," Van's blade moved forward slightly around Sasha's neck. Strings 
of blood slid down Van's sword.

"Like I said," Sasha's eyes were cold and arrogant. "Kill me."

Van frowned. *What should I do?*

Sensing Van's hesitation, Sasha grew impatient. "What?" She glared at 
him stubbornly. "Don't tell me that the King of Fanelia, who led the 
allied army to victory in the Great War, is afraid to kill! Com'on 
Van, what happened to that thirst for blood and vengeance? What 
happened to that desire for war and destruction?" She smiled a cruel 
smile, "Don't forget, for you, millions died. Are you telling me now 
that you're a coward?"

"Shut up!" Van deepened his sword into Sasha. "I fought in the Great 
War to protect the woman I loved. I fought to save Gaea from Zaibach. 
I. . ."

"Lies!" Sasha cut him off. "You are all the same. Don't use love as 
an excuse for war! How dare you! Noble causes are just pretty facades 
for selfish desires, so don't blame a woman for your own doing!"

 She leaned toward Van, disregarding the widened gash on her 
neck. "You fought because you were selfish and afraid. You wanted 
power, power that you could not have if Zaibach remained. You had no 
right to say what's right and what's wrong, but you lied and took the 
words of justice to hide your fears. You were afraid, weren't you? 
Afraid that Zaibach was right, afraid that you were nothing but. . ."

Van stood up, and sheathed his sword by his side. He looked down at 
Sasha with pitying eyes, and silently walked away.

"Wait!" Sasha stood up and yelled, "Don't you want your pendant back?"

"Keep it." Van never turned around. "I never considered myself the 
righteous one. I just wanted to protect the people I love. Perhaps it 
was selfish, but I believed in them, and they believed in me." He 
kept on walking. "Once I was afraid. So afraid that my hands would 
tremble at the sight of a sword. But my friends taught me the meaning 
of courage and faith. Now it no longer haunts me."

Sasha lost.

"I hate you!" She cried behind him. Van felt something small hit his 
back. He turned around. Glittering in the moonlight, he could see 
Hitomi's pendant between the blades of grass.

Van picked up the pendant, and looked at Sasha, "Why?"

"Why won't you kill me?" the dark princess stood alone, framed by the 
moonlit Escaflowne behind her. The wind brushed against her and 
lifted her green gown against her frail form. "Please kill me. ." She 
sobbed against her left hand. "What would I say to him on our wedding 
night? What if he finds out that I can no longer give him want he 
wants? What should I do?" Sasha trembled like a helpless child.

"What?" Van was tempted to give her what she wanted. "All this for a 
case of cold feet?"

Then Van took a step back when Sasha's sorrow suddenly turned into 
rage. "It's all Escaflowne's fault!" She turned behind her. "It's all 
your fault!" She raised her sword in front of her, and charged toward 
Escaflowne.

"Sasha, stop!" Van ran after her, but Sasha leaped up on Escaflowne's 
knelt knee, and sprang herself in position before its crystal 
essence. With all her force she thrust her blade into its stone heart.

"NO!" Van screamed. Suddenly, a beam of bright light shot out from 
the pink stone as Sasha's blade scratched its surface. Van watched in 
horror as the beam of light pushed through Sasha's body and came out 
like two black wings behind her back. An eruption of bloody mucus 
webbed his vision, and he cried out Sasha's name as the light ripped 
her apart inside-out.

Then Van lost consciousness.

"Promise me, Van."

Mother? Van heard a familiar voice from his childhood.

"Van, promise me that you'll never show your wings until the time 
comes."

"But why mother?"

"Please believe me, Van," tears trickled down Varie's face as she 
lowered her head in sadness.

Van reached to smooth her beautiful raven hair. "Don't cry, Mother. I 
promise."

Then Van jumped back in terror as Varie raised her head. Instead of 
the face of his mother, the tear stained face belonged to Sasha. 
Thesame dark hair, the same sad eyes. Van was falling. . .

"Mother!" Van sat up on the ground, and felt the night air around 
him. He looked at Escaflowne, then at the graves. Was the whole thing 
a dream? Escaflowne was slumbering in peace, gently shielded by ivy. 
The graves were quiet and undisturbed. He raised his head, the 
Illusionary Moon still hung above him, just like it did a moment ago 
on the hill
behind the castle.

But then a moan caught his ears, and his eyes focused on a figure 
across from the open field. *Sasha!* He ran toward her, and found her 
unconscious on the ground. No marks of blood on her clothes, no black 
wings. Not even a scratch.

Van knelt down and helped Sasha sit up with one arm on her 
back. "Wake up! Sasha!"

Sasha slowly opened her green eyes, and stared up at Van helplessly. 
Then she bursted into tears and sobbed, "It wants our blood. It will 
not stop until it has all our blood. . ."

"Shh," Van comforted the trembling girl in his embrace. Sasha was 
crying like a traumatized child, and Van couldn't help but hold her 
against him. Then he raised one hand to smooth her raven hair. It was 
the same hair of his mother. Van remembered when he used to hide in 
those silky strands as a child, and when he used to tug on it to get 
his mother's attention.

Take me home, Van" Sasha cried into his heart. "Please take me back 
to Kanaphra. Please, I want to go home. I beg you, please take 
mehome."

Van tightened his arms around her. "Don't cry, Sasha. I'll take
you home. I promise."