Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Ashes and Remembrance ❯ Chapter Nineteen ( Chapter 19 )

NINETEEN

Folken felt Jindra stiffen under him and lifting his head a little, he spoke her name. When she didn't answer, he pushed himself up so that he could see her face. Her eyes were wide and rimmed with fear.

"Jin - what is it?" She didn't seem to hear him. "Jindra . . .?" He saw that she was looking past him, over his shoulder. Feeling suddenly afraid, Folken pushed himself off the bed and quickly spun around towards the stairs; but as he did so, he felt a familiar weight across his back and shoulders.

NO! Gods, no - not now - please not now! With a curse, he turned back towards Jindra to find that she had scrambled across the bed away from him; and she was looking at him as if he were a stranger. Silently cursing himself again, he quickly drew his wings back in.

As Jindra watched Folken, she started to shake as hysteria began to build within her. It can't be . . . it's a nightmare . . . gods, please let me wake up - please don't let it be true . . .

"Jin . . . please . . . don't look at me like that. Jindra . . .?" Folken moved towards her until he was next to where she sat curled up on the bed. Bending down, he reached out and took her by the shoulders, "Jin . . . please -- say something."

She tried to speak, but her throat had gone dry and she pulled away from him. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to stop shaking. Folken felt her rejection like a physical blow. He quietly sat down on the bed near her and held his head in his hands. Breathing deeply, he tried to fight back the tears that welled in his wine-dark eyes. Why now? Gods, why now? Stupid, stupid, stupid! She hates me!

Jindra's voice was a whisper as it broke through his thoughts. "W-What . . . what are y-y-you?"

Folken felt a pain in his chest as he heard the fear in her voice. "A man . . . the same man I was a few minutes ago when I held you in my arms." He whispered in response without lifting his head. Jindra could see his shoulders shake and she knew that he was crying. She wanted to reach out to him, to soothe his pain away, but something held her back.

"Did . . . did they do that to you?" Folken knew how she meant by "they" - the sorcerers.

"N-N-No," his voice shook. "I-I was . . . I was born this way." He looked up at her as he finished speaking. Jindra's eyes were wide as she looked at him. "Born . . .? But . . . but I - I don't understand. How can a person be born with - with wings?"

Folken took several deep breaths and gave her a measured look before he answered. "My mother - my mother is Draconian. I inherited my wings from her." He could see from the look on her face that she didn't believe him.

"That's . . . that's impossible. The Draconians are a myth - everyone knows that. Besides even if they had been real, they all supposedly died out a thousand years ago." Jindra could see the hurt in his eyes as she finished speaking.

His voice was a low whisper, "Not all of them . . . my mother is one of the few still left."

Jindra looked down at the forgotten white feathers that lay on the bed. She heard Bethanne's voice in her head, "I remember Yellan saying that she wasn't Fanelian. The king raised quite a stir when he married her." Looking up, she met Folken's gaze. Feeling his eyes on her, she suddenly felt self-conscious. Blushing, she grabbed at the bedclothes and pulled the coverlet over herself.

A feather drifted down to land on the bed between them. Folken looked at it sadly, "I-I wanted to tell you . . . I was going to tell you . . ."

Jindra's voice was hard as she cut him off, "When Folken? When were you going to tell me? Was it going to be when you told me that you're the crown prince of Fanelia?"

His head snapped up, "Who told you that?"

"Not you, obviously;" she shot back harshly. "Coren told me, although I didn't believe him . . . until now. It's true, isn't it?" Folken didn't reply, but the look he gave her said it all. Jindra squeezed her eyes shut and when she reopened them, he could see them glistening with unshed tears. "How can you look me in the face and tell me that you love me, but - but you can't trust me enough to tell me the truth about yourself? You can't love someone without trusting them, Folken." Her voice broke as she finished.

She looked down at her lap and pressed her fingers to her eyes as if she were weary. After a few moments, she dropped her hands but did not look up at him. "Y-You and I have just shared the most intimate thing that a man and woman can experience together . . . and I can't believe that even after that, you can't trust me." She looked up at him, "How do you think that makes me feel? I wanted to make love with you Folken - I wanted it more than anything . . . but now - now it just feels so cheap, so dirty." Jindra let out a sob and buried her face in her arms as she brought her knees up towards her chest.

Folken started to reach out his hand towards her, but stopped before touching her arm. Dropping his hand, he picked up the feather that had fallen between them. Why does everything in my life have to go wrong? I should have known that this was too beautiful - too perfect . . . why can't I ever be happy? Crushing the feather in his hand, he threw it to the floor. Why did the gods curse me so? Looking at Jindra's bent head he could feel his heart breaking. It's only what I deserve . . . I never should have done this - I never should have let myself fall in love with her.

He knew that he should say something, but he wasn't sure what. He could feel the tears as they rolled down his face and he resisted the urge to brush them away. His voice was soft when he finally spoke, "Jin . . . please . . . I . . ." He stopped and took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Tonight was . . . tonight was beautiful. Tonight you showed me just what love is - what it really feels like to love someone . . . and I do love you, Jin - I love you so much that I can't even begin to put into words just how much." He swallowed and continued, "It's not . . . it's not because I don't trust you, it's just that . . . so much as gone wrong in my life - it's hard for me to open up to people, to trust them. In the tower, I always have to be on my guard; but with you . . . with you I could just be myself. You never pushed me -- you just accepted me as I was . . . I was always so afraid that you would reject me if you saw what I was - if you knew the truth of who I was. As much as I love you, I'm still afraid that you'll leave me."

Jindra lifted her head from her arms, but did not look at him. "I never pressed you about your past because I didn't want to push you away. I could see how much you were hurting, but I always trusted that you would tell me when you were ready. I trusted you because I loved you, Folken. But I let my feelings blind me to so much; I let them blind me to all the secrets that you've kept from me. Everything that I know about you isn't because you told it to me - I've learned it from other people." She brushed at her eyes with her fingers. "You're like a stranger to me . . . I don't think that I've ever really known you."

Jindra sobbed, "I can't believe that I gave myself to a man that I don't even know - I feel like a whore!"

Folken reached out his hand to her, "Jin - don't . . . please don't say that. You know that I love you - you can feel it in your heart. I meant everything that I said to you tonight . . ."

She flinched and pulled away before he could touch her. "Don't! Don't touch me! I don't want you to touch me - I don't want you to talk to me . . . I don't want to look at you - just leave me alone! Please . . . just leave me alone!"

Folken felt as if she had just slapped him across the face. "Jin don't . . . gods, don't push me away. I love you, please don't do this. We can work it out . . ."

Clasping her knees once again, Jindra rested her forehead on her arms. Her voice was hoarse and pleading, "Folken . . . I'm begging you - please, please leave me alone."

As his tears rolled even faster down his face, Folken sat on the bed and looked at Jindra as she gently rocked back and forth. After a minute or so, he rose from the bed. "I swore to your mother that I would never let anyone hurt you, Jindra. Little did I know that it would be me that you would have to worry about."

Turning away, he walked to the stairs; stopping briefly to gather up his clothing from the floor. With a last sad look at the woman he loved, Folken started down the stairs.

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The lodge was quiet. The storm seemed to have lessened until the rain was nothing more than a steady, gentle patter. Jindra was lulled by the soft familiar sound as she hugged her knees to her chest. She wasn't sure how long she had been like that, but her tears still continued to fall. I can't believe this - it's like the worst nightmare I ever had. Why? Why did I throw myself at him? Why did I beg him like some shameless tart in the street? How could I do something so stupid? She sniffed. Because I love him . . . even now, I still love him . . . I still love him so much.

Jindra sighed and tried to stop crying. After a while, her tears dried and she stretched out her legs on the bed. Pulling the bed cover with her, she stood and walked towards the stairs.

Looking down, she saw Folken seated in one of the chairs facing the fireplace. He had put out the lanterns and sat in the near darkness, the firelight casting shadows across the profile of his face. He was wearing his trousers and his shirt, which was unbuttoned. His legs were stretched out before him and his hands rested on the arms of the chair. The firelight glinted on his metal hand and she could see the glow from the bands across his chest. He sat so still that he looked like a statue. What have I done to him? How he must hate me.

Turning back to the room, Jindra saw her shift and trousers lying on the floor. Bending down, she picked them up and pulled the shift over her head. She looked at the still-damp, mud-spattered trousers in disgust and threw them on the back of the small wooden chair next to the bed. She felt chilled and wished that she had her overdress, but it was downstairs and she was reluctant to go down and get it. She didn't want to have face Folken, not yet.

Looking around for the blanket that she had brought up stairs, she saw Folken's coat and boots on the floor. Picking up his coat, she hugged it to her chest, as the tears welled up in her eyes once more. She could see Folken as he had looked earlier standing next to the bed, ready to protect her with his fists clenched and his wings outstretched. He had looked so dangerous and so beautiful at the same time. Like a god would look . . . What have I done? Pressing her face into the fabric of his coat, she tried to inhale his scent: the clean, woodsy smell of his shaving soap; but all she could smell was damp wool and horses. Without thinking about it, she slipped the coat on and put his boots next to the wood chair.

With a frustrated sigh, she started straightening up the bed linens - trying to keep her mind occupied so she wouldn't be able to think about what had happened. She had just finished smoothing out the coverlet when she heard a noise behind her.

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Folken sat, staring into the fire. His heart felt so cold that he couldn't even cry anymore. Why? Why does everything in my life have to go wrong? For the first time in so long, I find some happiness only to have it ripped away. Looking at the flames, all he could see was Jindra's horrified face as she had looked at his wings. It's all my fault - I should have told her . . . no, I never should have allowed myself to fall in love with her. He clenched his jaw; I'm a sorcerer . . . no ties, no emotion . . . Small sounds broke the silence and Folken looked up towards the loft. He could see the shadow of movement on the walls.

He felt the blood rush to his face as he thought about the love that he and Jindra had shared in that loft only a short time ago; of how his very soul seemed to burn with the passion that he had experienced with her. Now I've thrown it all away - because I was afraid - afraid that she would reject me. How do I know that she would have? I never even gave her the chance.

He could still feel the touch of her lips and hands on his body; and see the love and trust in her eyes as she had asked him to make love to her. She had trusted him and he had taken her love and given nothing in return. He had given her pleasure, yes; but it had been without trust, without honor. She's right . . . I made her a whore. I took her and gave her nothing of myself in return. Gods, what have I done?

Folken didn't feel the metal fingers of his right hand as they dug holes into the leather of the chair. I have to try and make it right somehow. I need her - I can't let her go . . . I have to trust her. I have to tell her the truth - all of it. No more secrets . . .

Looking back up at the loft, Folken knew what he had to do. Rising from the chair, he made his way to the stairs and slowly climbed up.