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The Vision of Escaflowne: A Return to Gaea
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Part Six -- Home but Newly


We look before and after,
     And pine for what is not:
Our sincerest laughter
     With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
               Percy Shelley

*****

     "Hitomi?" Van whispered.

     Her head resting in profile on his chest, hair damp and sticky
from drying sweat, she nuzzled him slightly but did not wake.

     "Hitomi?" Van tried again. No response at all this time. He
traced her hand, which lay cool and smooth against the still flushed
skin of his stomach.

     "I was thinking about what you've always said," he continued,
not exactly whispering, but his voice was hoarse and muffled by the
dark. "Or thought, or something. Whatever. About how there isn't
anywhere we can be together. And what you said earlier about how
maybe being together now is going to help us find a place where we
can always be together. See, up until now, I always thought that the
only thing keeping us apart was you not being able to stay on Gaea
when how you feel effects it so much. And that was a big thing, but it
was the *only* thing, and if we could only get around that somehow
than you could stay with me forever." 

     He swallowed hard. "Because I really want you to stay with
me, Hitomi. I want to make you my queen. I - I want you to be the
last thing I see before I die. So, you thought that we didn't belong
anywhere, but I always thought we belonged together on Gaea, and
there was just something - something in the way."

     Van stared directly at the ceiling. "You were more right than I
was, I think. Because you've got this place where you live, and the
way you acted with that guy earlier... this is your *home*, isn't it?
You need to be here like I need to be in Fanelia. So, it would be really
nice to find somewhere where we could be together, but..."

     Hitomi sighed in her sleep, turning into his warmth. Van froze,
then relaxed again, sliding one hand down to the small of her back and
smoothing the other across her hair. "But I just can't think of anyplace
we could go."

******

     this is certainly an interesting development.

     perhaps.

     just perhaps? don't pout. it was out of any of our control.

     was it really?

     implying something?

     nothing. nothing. what to do now?

     they are now in my jurisdiction. will handle the affair from
here.

     naturally.

     think you are insinuating something.

     not hardly. 

     current location?

          nearing destination, no sign of trouble. think this will be our
     last communication for a time.

     alright. keep safe.

     i will, okaasan.

******

     For a moment, Hitomi hung in that delectable almost-
conscious stage of waking, sensing outside herself but not yet
assembling the information into thought. She was cocooned in heat,
pressed against it; and the world smelled freshly sweet and raw, like
sunlight shaded by something sharply masculine. Like Van.

     And then she was being shaken, (gently, but still being shaken.)
and Van's voice was loud and saying, "Hitomi? Hitomi, get up,
something's making noise." And the doorbell sounded shortly, as if it
was being rung for a second or third time, and Hitomi was awake.

     "'t means someone's at the door," she mumbled, turning over
on her stomach. Her mouth tasted sour and her skin had collected a
lightly sticky residue like honeysuckle blossoms. "Just ignore it. Too
early to be important."

     "Aa." She felt her hair being tugged and realized with a blush
that Van was playing with it, then felt embarrassed about blushing.
Hitomi didn't think of herself as overly modest, but what had felt
sacred during the night seemed just awkward and expository in the
practical light of morning. 

     Hitomi raised herself up on one elbow, peering groggily at Van
who gave her a small smile and squeezed his fistful of hair before
letting it go and running his hand down her cheek. Her stomach
quivered. Suddenly, any tension or discomfort in the situation
evaporated, leaving Hitomi lightheaded and grinning goofily back at
Van.

     "Morning," she said, ducking her head a little. The doorbell
rang again.

     "The people here must get up awfully late," Van said
conversationally.

     Hitomi blinked. "What?"

     He pointed to her window, which glowed in a sickening
display of sunshine and the industrious activity of cars and birds and
people at ground level. 
     
     Hitomi blinked in a bleary sort of understanding. Then buried
her head in the bedding to muffle a rude word.

     The doorbell rang again.

     She had been faintly worried if she should ask Van to turn
away when she got dressed, or maybe wait until he went to the
bathroom or hope that he was just too shy to watch, and if half-
wanting him not to look at her nakedness was too prissy. Modesty
now was a secondary issue as she threw on clothes and rushed to open
the door.

     "Ts - Tsukawa-sensei?"

     Tsukawa was as neat and professionally pleasant as ever in a
black business suit and bag to match. She smiled.

     "Ah, Hitomi-chan. The building is nice, but do you always
have to walk up all those stairs? I had to take off my heels between
floors at one point."

     "No..." Hitomi said slowly as her brain stuttered into action.
"The elevator's broken."

     "I see. That's fortunate - can't have a young thing like you
destroying her arch support. May I come in?"

     Oh this was just great. Hitomi plastered on a smile and held the
door open wider, voice carrying as she answered. "Of course you can
come into my apartment, Tsukawa-sensei."

     "Cozy," Tsukawa decreed, crossing her legs and resting her
hands in her lap as she settled on the couch. Her bag lay politely by her
feet.

     "I'm sorry about all the mess," Hitomi said, running her hands
through her hair, a bit more sure of herself now that the door was
closed and her home was self-contained again.

     Tsukawa laughed lightly, shaking her head. It was a shame she
had scheduled her premier visit for today; normally Hitomi would have
been as delighted at her presence as she was mystified.

     She headed for the kitchen nook, always a polite hostess.
"Would you like some tea?"

     "No, thank you. I just wanted to see how you were doing. It's
unlike you to call in sick twice in the same month."

     Hitomi concentrated on filling the kettle up with water so
Tsukawa couldn't see her expression. She was perceptive, and Hitomi
was a bad liar. "Oh, I'm fine. I was just a little tired yesterday. Thank
you for your concern, though."

     "Ah, that's good to hear. How is his majesty doing?"

     Hitomi dropped the kettle in the sink. It blocked the drain; the
tap water ran over the curve of one side so smoothly it looked like
film on a soap bubble. "Ts-Tsu..."

     Tsukawa tilted her head inquiringly. "Where is he, by the way?
Your apartment's quite nice, but it's so small I can't imagine where he
could be out of sight."
     
     Hitomi just blinked with trembling eyes. 

     Standing in front of her was her favorite teacher. A woman
who had always doted on her for reasons she had never understood. A
woman too perfect and confident and cheerfully eccentric to ever want
to ask personal questions of, partly out of respect and partly because
she would probably just tell you the truth if you did, which took all the
fun out of the mystery. A woman Hitomi had forever assumed she
knew without ever really knowing...

     Because Tsukawa-sensei had always seemed to know *her*.

     "Is something wrong, Hitomi-chan?" Tsukawa asked. 
     

*****

     Allen was out of sorts, having woken up too early and poured
through too much inscrutable text and sneezed too often from the
constant unsettling of old dust. It didn't help that Dryden, who made a
point never to be in enough sorts to call his current condition *out* of
them, was clearly amused, if not man enough to be provocatively
blatant about it.

     As well as getting far too close to his little sister. Celena was in
her element, losing herself in the arcane and conversation with the
young merchant to the point where Allen was beginning to doubt if
she remembered that the hours of research this morning had an actual
purpose.

     "Listen to this piece of good, old-fashioned paranoia," Dryden
said, then began to read in his Public Speaking voice, which made
Allen listen in spite of himself. " 'The Draconian is a true siren, a
demon of the head and the heart. In the form of a young maiden as
lovely as the moon, it will attempt to bewitch warriors and leaders and
holy men, for it is a grasping, greedy thing, wanting to wither the best
of all humans. One shall recognize the Draconian by its frightening,
unnatural wings, or if the cunning beast attempts to disguise itself as
human, by its inhuman loveliness. Beware, for though it is lovely as
the moon, it is as cold as the moon as well, and wants nothing more
than to steal the soul of any man it finds' Isn't that just
heartwarming?"

     "Why are you reading about draconians?"

     "Knowing how deeply they were mixed up in things last time, I
figured it couldn't hurt to be thorough."

     "That sounded more like Sarine than a draconian," Celena
remarked absently, turning a page of her own volume.

     There was a stillness - not an abrupt quieting or slackening of
activity as much as a wispy emphasis on the moment, as if a cloud had
drifted over the sun.

     "Why not both?" Dryden said slowly, with the careful control
of someone who knew instincts didn't necessarily lead to fact.

     "Oh, really."

     "She went north going to her birthplace," he continued.
"What's north?"

     "Cyrano, Wermanda, Hiliout," Celena began to list. "Bajin,
Noc."

     "The Mystic Valley," Allen said, soft but harsh. "The Mystic
Valley is very far north indeed."

     Someone was bound to say it was ridiculous. Someone would
have to tell him to stop being melodramatic and leaping to
conclusions, and then they'd go back to reading and forget about this
nonsense.

     But no one did.

*****

     Feeling betrayed was awful, nauseating and bitter the way
mothballs smelled.

     They said the best way to pick something up quickly was to
fake confidence in it. Although Hitomi disagreed with the principle of
being ashamed of happenstance-ignorance, Van had showed her
enough about pride to be able to raise her chin and fish the pot out of
the sink and say, coolly almost, "I think you already know the answer
to that, Tsukawa-san."

     Tsukawa tsked. Hitomi felt a bright crack of anger that her
professor would dare scold her now, but then Tsukawa began to
speak, obviously self-deprecating. "That was really the wrong way to
go about things, wasn't it? I'm sorry, Hitomi-chan. My fondness for
drama is bound to be the death of me one of these days. But, darling, I
*would* like to see his majesty."

     "I'm right here."

     Van's voice was as menacing and guarded as a sheathed
sword, an odd counterpoint to his wrinkled jeans, unbuttoned shirt,
bedrumpled hair. He was by Hitomi's side, suddenly, gripping her
upper arm. That would have been obnoxious, except the gesture was
not exactly possessive, but strong, presenting a wall of solidarity in
front of the stranger. "I can understand what you're saying. Who are
you?"

     Tsukawa watched him watching her. Watched, and then...
changed.

     It shouldn't have been startling - just a shift of posture, a glint
evaporated from the eyes, a relaxing of the lines around the mouth, but
the transformation was as staggering as the removal of a mask.
Tsukawa was recognizable - the same shape and sharpness as always -
but drained of everything that had made her seem ordinary.

     She took the clip from her hair, letting it stream thick and
glossy to her waist.

     Beside Hitomi, Van inhaled sharply, letting go of her as if he
had forgotten about holding on. Worried, she turned her head,
reaching out her arm, intending to touch, but then let it fall to her side
again. Van's hand was unconsciously drifting forward. His face was
drawn and his eyes were oddly bright and shallow, full of shuttered
hope.

     His voice was paper rustling. "Ha... Hahaue..."

     Tsukawa shook her head. "Close, Your Majesty. Close. I can't
tell you how glad I am to meet you. I've... We've... been waiting so
long."

     "What-"

     Tsukawa spread her wings.

     Pin feathers brushing the walls of the apartment, they glowed.
Magnificent but fiercely right, they belonged the way mountains
belong even next to something as artificial as a highway.

     Tsukawa retrieved her fashionably over-large black bag,
reached inside and then held out a sphere pulsating with green storm
clouds almost like a dragon's eye.

     "It's time," she said.

     Then the room was empty.

****

     Cleaning a saddle in the hayloft of the barn, Ren shuddered,
then blinked, then smiled as if life was falling into place in front of his
very eyes.

****

     It was a very big room.

     Growing up, the biggest thing in the world had been the
palace, but no place you've lived most of your life in can every really
feel particularly huge. Van referenced the largeness of things with
memories of his father and Balgus and Aniue towering over him. He
never thought anything manmade could be intimidating in its size until
visiting Asturia and Freid, seeing a floating fortress.

     Here - wherever here was - swallowed all of that without a
thought.

     The ceiling was high and gently domed, made of something
white and translucent so the sunlight pouring in looked like a clear
cloud and emphasized the sense of space. The floor was polished stone
that had been left to scuff, bare except for him and Hitomi and That
Woman.

     They stood in the dead center of the room where the light was
so bright it was hard to see. Van couldn't make out walls; the dome
seemed to arch into darkness as it tapered down. But he *could* see
human shaped silhouettes shifting in the black.

     A quick check on Hitomi: she was resting her hand lightly on
his shoulder although that was probably just out of a momentary need
for balance after reforming. Looking around intently, she was blinking
as she adjusted to the light, but showing no other signs of distress.

     It took a lot more than this, Van thought with faintly smug
pride, to faze Hitomi. When they had first met, he had been
ostentatiously disgusted about having to take care of some useless girl.
Strangely, it had been almost as irritating when he found out that he
actually didn't.

     Hitomi turned to him with a fleeting, reassuring smile before
focusing on... on the woman and saying, "Tsukawa-sensei?" at the
same time he demanded. "What's going on?"

     The woman smiled again, one of those self-aware, amused
smiles that made Van want to hit things. She hadn't even retracted her
wings. He was prudishly disgusted by that, as if catching her eating
food off the floor.

     Van took a step towards her, one hand clenching and
unclenching as it hovered over the handle of his sword. "Who are you?
Where did you take us? What's going on?"

     Her smile gentled until she looked like Hahaue again and Van
was blinking away hot pricks in the back of his eyes. "All perfectly
reasonable questions, Your Majesty. I apologize for how confusing
the last few days must have been for you, and you too, Hitomi-chan,
but please believe that we wouldn't have attempted this for anything
that wasn't deadly serious."

     "Any of *what*? Who *are* you?"

     "Being rude won't make things any better, Your Majesty," she
said, chiding.

     He was positive he hadn't heard Hitomi snicker.

     Van wasn't an ideal politician, but he knew when he had to
concede to inconsequential demands in order to stay firm on important
ones. He clenched his fists, closed his eyes, counted to a high enough
number and ground out, "Would you tell us your name?"

     There was no way Hitomi had just patted him on the back.

     The woman smiled again, a real smile now, looking slightly
trustworthy for the first time. "My pleasure, Van-sama. I am Myra,
daughter of Lael." She blinked dark eyes. "Sister to Varie." 

     He had been expecting something like that. At least, he
*should* have been expecting something like that. Still, it sent him
reeling like when Escaflowne had been struck, startling him even as he
had been prepared, hurting from the dull ache of infection setting in,
not the blow itself.

     The shadows in the background were shifting around a little
more now, murmuring amongst themselves. Hitomi squeezed his
shoulder. He could feel her stare, and a sudden impulse to throw her
arm off of him. Unsure of how to handle her intended comfort, he
almost resented Hitomi for forcing the unfamiliar situation on him.

     But now she was looking at her teacher and asking softly,
"Where are we?" Moving the conversation along.

     "This," Myra said with a broad sweep of her hand. "Is the
great hall. A sort of general congregation area, council room, social
chamber and occasional bowling alley. And you, Hitomi-chan, are on
Gaea again in Icirus, the stronghold of the few remaining draconians."

     "She *is* in Icirus, isn't she?" said a voice in the dark, low and
disapproving. "You were instructed to retrieve only Varie's fledgling."

     "Circumstances were that one could only be brought with the
other," Myra answered, voice clipped with authority. She turned back
to Van and Hitomi, gentle again but unreadable. "And as for why you
have been brought here, Your Majesty, it was in an attempt to save
your people."

     Van's hand settled on the hilt of his sword unconsciously. "Is
something planned against Fanelia?"

     There was a wave of murmurs at that.

     Myra looked almost unsettled herself before smoothing it over
with another smile, tossing her hair so girlishly it reassuringly
disassociated her from his mother. "Perhaps it would have been better
to say your species. Van-sama," she stepped forward, lightly taking his
hand between her own, dark between light. "The draconians need your
help."

     "Why?"

     And then Hitomi fainted.

*****

     This couldn't be a good idea. Ren wasn't stupid; he knew
when to keep his mouth shut, which was most of the time, really. No,
this was a horribly dangerous idea, and Ren's conviction of that
pounded through him with each step he took towards Celena-san's
door.

     Grownups didn't like being told things by kids. They liked it
even less when you just *knew* something to be true without any
proof. Ren was fuzzy on the concept of proof anyway - what greater
evidence of something could there be other than *knowing* it?
Grownups were funny like that. And then - the worst possibility of all
- they might start to wonder *how* he kneww. It was better and safer
to let them go about their business so Ren could go about his.

     The door was a lot closer now; he could see the changing
gradients of the wood.

     But Celena-san wasn't a regular grownup. And this was
something *important*, something in which both of their businesses
trickled together into a tidepool.

     Right in front of the door now.

     Well, no one said Ren had to say anything about Van-sama if
he talked to her. He could just be visiting Celena-san or something.
Nothing wrong with that.

     Ren knocked.

     There was an lazy rustling of blue-gold. "Who is it?"

     "Ren. Ren Yarda. The page. Can I come in?"

     Blue over-riding the gold now in surprise. (Not annoyance or
disappointment, just neutral surprise.) A swish of skirt, a few footfalls,
and Celena-san opened the door. Blue softened into a powdery shade
as she smiled.

     "Of course," she said.

     It didn't look much like what he had thought a lady's room
should look like. For one thing, books were scattered all over and the
bed was unmade, but there also weren't a lot of.... frilly things. He sat
down in a chair Celena motioned him towards, putting his hands in his
pockets, swinging his legs and scowling into his lap. 

     Celena perched on the end of the bed, still smiling at him. "So,
Ren-kun, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

     Ren shrugged.

     "Would you like something? I can't offer you tea or juice, but
there might be a cookie hiding in here somewhere."

     She was always trying to give him things. He didn't get it. He
didn't get her, and coming here had been a stupid idea and he should
leave now before he had said anything, and what had he been thinking,
anyway, just because Celena-san had been nice to him once or twice
was no reason to tell--

     "Ack! Be careful where you aim!" Celena was bending to the
floor, picking up a book he had accidentally kicked across the room.
"Normally I wouldn't mind, but I borrowed this one from the library."

     "Sorry," Ren said, surprised that he actually was. Sort of.

     "No harm done. No footprints or skid marks, anyway," Celena
said, turning the book over in her hands. It was a thick book bound in
lizard textured leather. The Fanalian Royal Lineage was embossed in
gold down the spine.

     "What does lineage mean?"

     "It's a tracing of your family bloodline, like a family tree. A
map of who you come from."

     "So that's a book about where Van-sama comes from?"

     Celena-san nodded. "Very good."

     "Do you want to know where Van-sama comes from because
it will help you find where he is?"

     Grey-blue and night-blue swirling together. "Exactly, Ren-
kun."

     She missed Van-sama too. He knew, but was helpless to do
anything with the knowledge, and she could probably be able to do
something except she didn't know what to do...

     Blue and gold were colors you could trust, weren't they?

     "Van-sama is here," Ren blurted before he could convince
himself not to.

     The swirling stopped, the colors frozen into place. "Here?" 

     Ren nodded. "Not *here* here, not at the castle, but... here.
Here on... Gaea!" He said the last part more loudly than the rest,
pleased with having discovered the correct word. Where could Van-
sama have been except on Gaea, but he must have been somewhere
else.

     "Do you know where, exactly, Ren-kun? What country?" Her
voice was mild and almost unconcerned, but burnished gold was
creeping in, taking over, spinning wildly through the blue.

     Ren chewed his lip. "Up. Somewhere high up. Somewhere
cold. And... icy."

     He wanted to explain that he had meant the place was full of
colors, but they weren't like any he had ever seen before -- so pale and
frozen into place -- but the enormity of what he had just shared
crashed around him. Ren bolted out of the room.

     It would be years later before he realized that Celena-san had
never even begun to ask how he knew.

******

     Afterwards, Hitomi was always surprised by how unemotional
her visions were. That wasn't exactly correct - the visions themselves
were filled with pain and pride and glory, but Hitomi herself never felt
anything in particular while watching them. Sometimes, there was a
sort of distant horror or happiness, but only as a foreshadowing of
what she would feel later, a certain inkling of 'this will make me sad.'
Her job was to bear witness, not to pass judgement; Hitomi was
separated from the events around her by an impersonal bottle-green
sheen.
                                   
     She was on Gaea newly created, the land pristine and lovely
and thrumming with quiet potential. Before her, seventy or so
Draconians were huddled together, aimless and hopeless, refugees
from Earth, from Atlantis, from their own hubris. For a long time none
of them did anything but hold each other or hug their knees to their
chest and rock back and forth and cry. Gradually, the sun began to set,
and their grief, almost mechanically, was subdued by survival. A
campfire was lit and some sort of rations were distributed. The
Draconians ate in silence. None of their wings were visible.

     After the last was finished, they gathered into a semi-circle. An
old man with a long beard and tired eyes stood before them, shoulders
squared for all that he supported himself on a staff.

     "We have sinned." His voice was as deep and gravelly as a
river bank, as a diamond buried in the earth. "We have sinned against
our world and against ourselves. And we have been duly punished."

     Some of the crowd broke down. Others stood stiff-backed and
tall, their lips pressed thin.

     The old man continued. "But out of our punishment comes a
chance for redemption. On this new world, a world where the one we
wasted hangs eternally in the sky, we will create new life in the image
of our innocent selves and give them the means not to fall."

     The Draconians began to hum and hummed for a long time, a
low, sweet sound, harmonies gently rising and falling.

     A female stepped forward, dressed in green robes. "Will we
live among our new children? Will we stay by their side?"

     The Elder shook his head. "We must let them live by
themselves. We will teach them of right and wrong, but our efforts
will be meaningless if they are not free to choose between the two."

     The woman nodded and stepped back. A male with black hair
and blue robes cinched with a crimson sash came forward. "I agree
with the elder. We must live remote from our children. Gods do not
seem mysterious if they are one's neighbors. Rather-"       

     "No," the Elder interrupted sharply. The humming drained
away in the Draconians surprise. "You misunderstand, my son. We
will not be the human's gods. We will be their demons."

     The man who had spoken looked angry and horrified along
with most of the company. "Elder, you surely do not understand what
you say."

     "I understand this decision more fully than you do, and my
heart breaks a thousand times over for it. But do you wish the humans
repeat our mistakes? No. They will abhor our kind and all that we
stand for.  They will throw stones at any of us they see. Only thus can
they be kept safe."

     The male didn't answer immediately, keeping steady eye-
contact, his pride too deeply ingrained to back down. Finally, he
arched his back and his wings appeared, arced and haughty and
gleaming in the twilight. The other Draconians looked at each other
uneasily, shifting in place.

     "So this is your final decision. Our race will be outcasts,
fleeing from its own inferior creations until the end of time? This is our
fate?"

     The Elder looked at him levelly with the sad, resigned
sympathy of one  who knows that what they say will never be truly
understood. "Until the humans have found their own peace, so shall it
be."

     Hesitantly, the Draconians began to hum again, their song
growing louder and louder and louder until the memory of any other
sound was driven away.

*****

     Hitomi woke up suddenly, like she always did after these
things, her gaze still clouded and far away. She smiled muzzily at him
when Van squeezed her shoulders, touching his cheek lightly with one
finger. For all the gestures were vague, there was something wistful
and sad in them too that made Van's stomach ache in an odd way.

     He could sense more than hear an uncomfortable settling
around them. Myra was smiling in a bright, brittle way and extended
her hand and said cheerfully, "Well, that simplified matters a bit, I
think. I'll show you both to your rooms now, if you like."

     Van certainly didn't want to be in this cold, disorienting hall
anymore, but he didn't like the sound of, "rooms?"

     "It certainly would be unseemly to make you share a room,
your majesty, not to mention rude." As he continued staring at her
stonily, Myra added, "I give you my word that she is safe for as long
as you stay in our company, Van-sama. If nothing else, Hitomi is still
my student."

     Van looked at her for another moment (which was becoming
easier now that he could pick out difference - paler, older, a birthmark
on her collarbone, none below her right ear) then slowly nodded.
Leaving the chamber and walking to the new one was blurry; a sense
of being moved and nudged in the certain directions, white gave way
to grey and cold became colder as Hitomi's warmth left his side. Then
he was in a stone, square room with a small bed and a large window,
able to see and think clearly again.

     There was too much to think about, too many confusing,
conflicting thoughts. Van rubbed  his temple, breathing in for three
beats and out for fifteen, tensing and relaxing the muscles of his back
and arms, calming down. Hitomi was most probably safe - he found
himself trusting Myra although he was skeptical of that trust itself.
Anyway, they wouldn't be stupid enough to hurt her if they really
wanted something from him. He was safe and, presumably, alone. He
should examine the room, see what he could learn from it.

     It was tiny and plain - just the bed and a chest of drawers for
furniture. At least the cold wasn't quite so biting in here. Thick
tapestries hung on all the walls except for the one directly over the
bed, which was taken up by a huge, full-length portrait of... of...

     "She was beautiful, wasn't she?"

     Van turned around.

     Sarine was studying the painting thoughtfully, her hands
clasped almost shyly behind her back. Her hair was down, and she was
wearing a long white robe, flowers etched into the sash. She glanced
at Van, more subdued and self-conscious than he had ever seen her,
before returning her attention to the portrait. "You don't seem very
surprised to see me."

     "I don't think anything that's been happening lately can
surprise me anymore."

     Sarine looked down, almost apologetic. "I think it was painted
when Varie-san was sixteen or seventeen. She was... legendary, even
back then. I wish I could have met her."

     Van said flatly, "do you."

     "My mother always spoke of her so fondly. Besides, it's just
nice to be able to meet your aunt."

     Van blinked hard, once, before smoothing the expression off
his face. "I'm owed an explanation here at the very least, Sarine."

     Sarine glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her neck
turned slightly as if she meant to look at him full-on but changed her
mind. Then she drew herself up and sniffed delicately, more like the
Sarine he had known in Daedalus than this chalky, unassuming thing
and walked to the window. Van followed her, then stood by her side.

     Outside ice on the ground. *As* the ground. There were no
trees or grass or even the red clay of Daedalus, just plains and plains
of ice so cloudy it looked like cheap marble that rolled and crested all
the way to the far off North Sea. The sky was grey as if all that ice had
drained it of blue, and the sun was sickly pale, disillusioned yellow.

     "The kingdom of the Draconians," Sarine said. "A stronghold
of nothing."

     Van didn't answer, but Sarine didn't seem to have expected
him to; raw slivers of bitterness crept into her voice as she continued.
"After Gaea was created, the Draconians established themselves as
demons and fled north and settled into a centuries long wait to see if
the humans would learn the lessons they had not. There are only two
hundred or so Draconians on Gaea at all times. Except for the very
brief appointments when one will scare an unsuspecting human villager
somewhere to keep the fear alive, they never leave this fortress. Wing
tissue freezes if exposed to this sort of cold for too long. No one ever
really has a chance to fly. They...*we've*...been the walking dead for
as long as anyone can remember. Children went to bed every night
praying that the humans prove themselves worthy soon, but gave up
hope by the time they were grown. But as miserable as all this self-
inflicted penance was, the Draconians still had one advantage and
birthright left to them: the power of prophecy."

     For the first time since they had met, Sarine looked Van
directly in the eyes, and for the first time Van could see something of
himself reflected in her. She had the level gaze of someone who had
been whittled down to simple, determined strength by a life in which
perseverance was the only option. 

     "We have sung of you for centuries, Van," Sarine said.

     Van was the first to break the stare, turning back to the
window. The pieces of a conclusion he didn't like were fitting
together. "But I wasn't just left to chance, was I?"

     Sarine smiled wryly, shaking her head into a storm of brown
curls. "Not exactly. You were left alone all your life until now, but
there were...preparations made before you were born."

     Unthinkingly, Van looked behind him. Hahaue was dressed all
in white the way Sarine was now, sitting on a velvet couch, looking
serenely and compassionately at something ahead of her that was now
no longer there.

     "The princesses Varie and Myra were sent to marry the human
kings of small countries, to bear their children. Half-blooded
Draconians would rule someday, so they would have to be accepted.
And then the children would marry and create a dynasty and an empire
with Draconians on the throne. But then... there were unexpected
events, and Myra was left to implement the agenda alone. After careful
analysis, it was decided that the possibility of a successful outcome
was less than twenty percent, so the plan was changed."

     "Myra returned here and sent her newborn child to live with
her father. The princess came and visited her mother often, though, so
she new her destiny was to marry a great king and help save her
people. It's funny... Varie-san and Goau-san truly loved each other;
it's in all the old stories how deep and abiding their love was. But I
don't know if my mother ever loved Daelin the way he loved her. It's
odd, what's left out of the books."

     Van looked down at his clenched fists. "Did they leave Hitomi
out too?"

     Sarine winced, which Van found uncomfortably satisfying.
"My father ruined everything," she said slowly. "He doesn't know
anything about Draconians or all these years of planning - he just
wanted to marry me off. If he hadn't, that girl would never have come
here, and you would never have gone back with her and my mother
would never have had to bring you both h "

     "It didn't matter if Hitomi was with me or not," Van
interrupted sharply. "I wouldn't have agreed."

     It was as good as a proclamation signed and sealed. Van's
word always was, anyway.

     Sarine recoiled at his voice and the look in his eyes, then bit
her lip, looked down and looked back up at him with new resolve. "I
don't love you either, Van."

     Van blinked.

     Sarine was in a sort of trailing-off stance even as her voice was
steady, the tilt of her body somehow hinting at compliance. "But...
Van... I *like* you, which was more than I was ever expecting. And I
think you would have liked me too, if everything hadn't gotten in the
way. But, that's not what's really important. You don't know what
it's like for the Draconians here, but I do. Have you ever seen the eyes
of children who know that their inheritance is a lifetime of shame and
ice? Hell isn't hot; it's freezing, eternal confinement. You couldn't
possibly be willing to sentence your mother's people to that. This
couldn't possibly be easy for you and it's probably unfair of us to ask,
but... please. Just think about it."

     She walked out of the room without putting her weight
anywhere, head bowed but shoulders straight, like the widow of a
soldier.

     After he heard the door click, Van folded down onto the floor,
knees drawn up to meet his chest.

     In a way, it all was so *sensible*. Aristocracy was always
positioning, always calculating which parties to send their daughters to
where they might meet a particular son... and he needed to stop
spending so much time in Asturia, but... since when had he ever acted
for his happiness alone?

     But this was different...deeper somehow. He didn't have the
words for it, but the essential wrongness of that choice pulled through
him like a current. What defined him in every other case would be
destroyed if he followed it here, somehow.

     But how long could he stay here? How long could *Hitomi*
stay here, and what would they do to her after they had run out of
patience? And Hahaue...

     Van rested his forehead on his kneecap, comparing two
different but equally distant smiles.

******

     
     Celena straightened Allen's cravat and dusted off his shoulder.
He didn't need either, but that wasn't the point anyway.

     "And you're *sure* you've navigated the route correctly?" she
said.

     Allen smiled, affectionate and patient. "We did the best we
could with what we could get from Ren and Dryden's calculations.
Besides, you would be as much at fault as the rest of us if we hadn't....
I believe you've tied that tightly enough, Celena."

     She let go, annoyance melting into concern as she looked at
the supplies being loaded into the Crusade. Dryden patted her
shoulder.

     "They know where they're going, Celena-san," he said, not
quite cheerfully because any sort of cheerfulness would have seemed
forced. "Allen's probably the best man on Gaea to do this sort of
thing. I've been with him on trips a thousand times more dangerous
and made it out alright."

     Allen bowed very slightly. "Yes, you have. If you were not
needed to keep up appearances with the Daedalins, we would value
your expertise on our travels. Still, I thank you greatly for all your
help."

     Dryden raised an eyebrow but only said, "It wasn't any
trouble."

     "And now," Allen said, looking over his shoulder to see
Gaddeth making gestures at him. "I must take leave of you both."

     Celena smiled, lips pressed together tightly to keep from
trembling, and stood on her tiptoes to hug him. "Try to bring back
safe; but make sure to bring yourself back safe, okay?"

     "I'll do the best I can." 

     Allen pressed his forehead into her hair, briefly, and then
boarded the airship.

******

     In this dream, Folken was already sitting down when he got to
the white room. Van took a chair across from him wordlessly and
deliberately did not cross his arms. Folken would inevitably interpret it
as sulking.

     After a moment Folken said, "Aren't you going to ask me for
advice?"

     "I don't need your advice," Van retorted. Then felt stupid
when Folken gently smirked at him.

     "That's alright," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I wasn't
going to give you any anyway. There isn't anything you can do."

     Van was up like a shot, leaning his hands on the table. "What?"

     "It's all up to Hitomi, now. Just let her do what she does best."

     Van considered this. "That *was* advice, wasn't it?"

     Folken tilted his head to the side lazily. "Does this place seem
familiar to you. Look around before you answer."

     "It's... sort of like the things on Hitomi's world," Van admitted
grudgingly. "But sort of not." And, because he was with family. "I still
don't understand. I don't know what I'm going to do."

     "So don't do anything," Folken said, just before the dream
ended. "Just find your way home."


End Part Six