Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Of Two Kingdoms ❯ Chapter 8

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Chapter 8

Much preparation was made for the match that was to take place. The Stadium in Palas was cleaned for the crowd, the arena groomed for the duelists. Allen trained and practiced for the next two days. Though he was confident in his skill, it never hurt to prepare for such an important event. Even if he were planning to lose. Denevive wasn't the wiser. He trained vigorously, thinking there was no stopping him from victory. For him his kingdom always came first.
Soon, the day came for the duel. People crowded into the stands to sit as the audience, waiting with great anticipation that match about to take place. It was to be Asturia's infamous Knight Caeli against a high ranking Fanelian Samurai! Everyone could hardly contain their excitement.
Celena paced in the pits of the arena, the stone block chamber and hallways where warriors passed through to enter the arena. This was where her brother waited admittance into the ring. Her fingers were interwoven with each other and she couldn't keep herself from worrying, thinking something might go wrong. "What if he's better than you think, Allen?" She asked her brother. He stood there, much to Celena's annoyance, with the most calm and reserved expression on his face she had ever seen.
"Then I shall be pleasantly surprised," Allen replied, smiling faintly. "Celena, there's nothing to worry about. Am I not the most skilled knight in all of Gaea?" He quirked an eyebrow.
Celena stopped her pacing, going to him and fixing his collar on his plain white shirt and the tie on his purple sash about his waist. "Yes, of course you are. There's nothing to worry about, is there?" A fanfare blared outside and she jumped unexpectedly.
Allen smiled slightly, and patted her head. "Don't worry--everything is going to be just fine. Now go find yourself a proper seat." Allen kissed her cheek lightly and turned to leave the preparation area, striding out into the open arena, preparing himself for what lay ahead.
"Good luck!" She called after his retreating form and went off upstairs to the stands.
Denevive strode into the arena with an air of confidence, saluting the royalty seated in the balcony and the acknowledging his opponent. He looked at the man, reminding himself that this duel was to be taken seriously for his country.
Allen returned the gesture with a deep bow, honoring the man that would be his opponent. The fierce, clear gaze pleased him. Internally, he smiled--he was about to give the boy something to brag about for years to come. Perhaps it would do both of them a bit of good. "The best of luck to you, Sir Denevive," he murmured, saluting their ruler in the stands before taking up a stance to await the start.
King Aston did not rise when his voice rose above the crowd's to speak. "Gentlemen. I hope you have prepared well for this day. This day will ultimately change lives of many people - starting with yours. Now, the duel!" He grinned maliciously, "To the death!"
Celena, in the stands, snapped her gaze towards the King, the color draining from her face when the words sunk in. No . . . it couldn't be. Either her brother or her new found love were to die? The king was crazy, she finally decided. She looked down at the two men in the arena, hoping they were smart enough to think of an alternative.
Denevive turned his head to the ruler. "What!?"
Allen whirled about, shocked. He could not think to respond from shock. To...the death? Had the king lost his senses. "Your Majesty!" he shouted, knowing it was useless, that his words would not be heard. His gaze shifted back to Denevive, wide and confused. "I knew nothing of this," he swore to the boy.
"Nor did I!" shouted Denevive the uproar of the crowd, looking as confused as any of them. Gulping loudly, he took his sword and readied himself for battle. "Um - g-g-g-good luck to you, Sir Allen."
Both entrances the fighters used to enter the arena were gated and locked. Jadik, seated next to Van, protested loudly. Van as well gave protest to Aston's surprise decision. Aston stubbornly refused to listen and warned both fighters, "If anyone tries to defy the rules, you will be arrested."
Allen stared at Denevive, then back to his king, and scowled. "Of all the miserable..." It was then that his gaze landed on Celena, and he felt his skin grow pale. How could he continue this, facing the man upon which his own sister had fixed her affections? Were he to kill Denevive...to deprive his ancient friend Van of his country....betray his own sister and morals.... Allen shook his head, fiercely, disbelieving. "This can't be happening," he muttered, returning his focus again to his....opponent. "Denevive, I can not kill you."
"Nor can I kill you." responded the samurai truthfully, still holding his sword and hoping the king does not get angry that they have not begun the duel. "What should we do?" He looked around, desperately searching for an answer. Anywhere. He looked towards the crowd and there saw the maiden that had captured his heart. He could not possibly kill this man before him, the brother of the one he had adhered affection to.
Allen ground his teeth as he tried to think. There had to be a way out of this....some solution. He certainly couldn't take the boy's life--to win the duel in any way was inconceivable, for it would mean great suffering for Van, his comrade. But he was not himself yet ready to die for them, either.
Denevive readied himself for the duel, posing his sword perfectly in the air and making the sun gleam off the polished metal. "Are you prepared to die?" Asked Denevive, unsure about this death business. He couldn't possibly kill the man in cold blood . . . but if it meant for the sake of his country that he must die, he could not do anything to change it. He grieved the fact that the sweet young lady he met a few days before would most likely never speak to him again.
Allen stared at him--he should have expected no less of a Fanelian soldier, one of Van's finest. He, too, took up a stance. "Denevive. I'm sorry, but I can't hold back against you." His insides twisted, and quietly he prayed, "May Celena forgive us both."
Denevive took a deep breath with those words, trying not to let his emotion show as he charged the knight. Blades met in mid-air, locking their swords. "Does that mean you would kill me for your country's petty wants?"
"No," Allen replied instantly, struggling against him. "But I cannot die here." He forced them apart and struck again, pushing his young opponent back. "Forgive me, Denevive. I have nothing but respect for you and your country. But I will not die here, today."
"If you think you are not fated to die here and now," seethed Denevive, panting as he was pushed back, "Then you're more arrogant that I had thought. You're country will claim victory this day if you kill me. What will become of Fanelia!?" He charged aggressively, putting all his strength into his sword.
Allen cringed, struggling to keep the blade from his throat. Denevive was more skilled than he had anticipated. "I'm sorry." It was all he could say. He twisted his wrist, flicking the boy's sword momentarily to the side and landing a heavy kick to his gut.
Denevive grunted as the wind was knocked out of him, falling onto the ground and holding his aching belly. He was down for but a moment and that would have been all Allen needed. He rolled out of the way and sprung up to his feet once more. "Damn you! You're no knight. A true knight would give his life for a worthy cause! Is this not a worthy cause?" He demanded, holding his sword as steady as he could.
"You have a lot to learn," Allen replied. He had made no move against the boy while he was down--at the least, he deserved that much of a fair fight. He lifted his voice. "If you believe your cause worthy, then speak through your steel! Defeat me, Denevive! Only then will you be justified."
"Celena would never forgive me." He said, staying back. He now held his sword nervously as if unsure of what to do. He could feel his anger rising from the knight's words, however. He refuses to die for the sake of Fanelia . . . he refuses to die to stop another war before it starts. But with those thoughts in mind - he ground his teeth and snarled at the man before him. "You deserve to die if you would rather have war between our countries."
Allen grieved silently at his words, though his face remained unchanged. But no--there was still much for him to do. There would be another opportunity to stop this from becoming war...wouldn't there? With time, perhaps, the king could be persuaded.... Allen shook his head, realizing how selfish and cowardly he was behaving. Were it Van within that arena, he would have surrendered his throat without a second thought. Why could he not do the same for Van's country? "Enough," he snapped, striking suddenly. "Fight me, Denevive. If you would put the affection of a lady over your country, then we are both fools, and deserve to die as one!"
Denevive's eyes flared with anger, blocking Allen's sudden blow and take another cautious step backwards. "But - she's your sister!" He protested, countering another strike with his blade. That particular move ended up trimming some of Allen's hair, short strands of it being caught in the light breeze before falling to the ground. A few inches closer and Denevive could have taken the knights head off.
Allen's eyes widened a moment before a grin broke out on his face, despite their situation. He certainly was an amazing opponent. "My sister is young, sir knight, she'll yet heal from one lost love." He struck again, drawing a small cut across the boy's left forearm, more taunting than for intent of harm. "Now stop babbling, and fight! Show me that the Fanelian spirit is worth saving."
Denevive scowled at Allen. "I had once respected you. But I have since lost that respect. May the gods forgive both of us this day." He charged again, twirling into an attack rarely used by swordsmen those days. His hair flailed about him, his sword gleamed before it was stained slightly crimson. He gave Allen a cut identical to his own and stepped back once more.
"Much better." Still, Allen had no idea what he was to do. But it was better this way, that the boy should strike him down in hatred than in regret. Or...to strike him down at all... Allen continued the fight, if only to keep his mind from spinning. He would know, when the moment came, what his decision was. In the meantime, he not surrender unless Denevive showed no less than his best.
Celena had been watching all of this from the stands, seated near the railing. She had been horrified and shocked at the same time when the king announced the surprise rule. She saw the blood drawn from both men and at that moment, could not stand for it any longer. She looked around desperately for a weapon for herself. Gritting her teeth, she stood and ran down to the pits, finding a fine Fanelian sword on the weapons rack there. She looked at the gate, narrowing her eyes at the guard. There was no way she would be able to enter the arena through that way. She would have to jump from the stands.
She grinned as she went back up, thinking how clever it was to steal a sword and not be caught by the guard there. Looking over the railing, she judged the height of the wall from the arena floor to where she stood. "Doesn't look more than ten feet. Here goes nothing..." Lifting her skirts, she prepared herself for an agile jump, springing from stands to the arena and landing gracefully. She smiled and quickly ran to the dueling men, giving Denevive a good kick to drive him backwards and letting herself get in between the two. "Fight me and let my brother live."
Denevive gave a small grunt when he was kicked. It wasn't as hard as Allen's blow to his gut but it still drove him back a good ways. "Fight you!? Have you gone mad?"
"Celena!" Allen exclaimed, shocked by her sudden entrance. "What in God's name do you think you're doing?" He snatched her arm and tried to pull her back.
Regretfully, Celena forced herself to give Allen a good backwards kick to force him back as well. "I'm saving your life, you sod! Get back!"
Allen stumbled back, surprised. "Celena!" He glared at her. "Stand aside--this is not your fight."
"I'm afraid I cannot fight the person I'm not intended to fight. And certainly not a lady!" Protested the samurai.
"You got a problem fighting a lady?" She snarled, posing her sword and grinning menacingly. "I'll show you how lady like I can be in battle!" She attacked suddenly, being smaller and quicker than the samurai. Her stolen sword shined in the sun, crashing against the metal of Denevive's blade.
Allen should have known better, but there was no helping it. He shot forward, snatching his sister's arm once more and throwing her, in a rather ungraceful manner, to the arena floor. "That's quite enough," he fairly shouted, aware of the audience's heavy attention. "This is not one of our games, Celena. Stand back."
She yelped as she hit the floor, the warmth of anger quickly coming to her face as she glared at Allen. "Ungrateful bastard..." She muttered, bringing her sword tip to his rear and poking him one; nothing hard enough to draw blood. Just a little prick. She stood quickly.
Allen snorted indignantly at her constant interference. He quickly turned his attention to Denevive, however. "Forgive my sister for her impertinence," he muttered, attacking again. Hopefully Celena had enough sense not to interrupt so fiery an exchange. "We'll settle this ourselves."
"Of course..." He said evenly, blocking and countering the exchange. "You're sister is quite the fierce young lady, isn't she?" He asked without skipping a beat as he moved quickly to block another sudden attack made by the Schezar sister.
She forced Denevive back again, making her aligned with Allen, speaking to him as she passed, "I'll not have you die when you have things yet to do on this plane."
"She's been a handful, I'll admit," Allen smirked, pushing his sister back again. He cringed a bit at the thought of the bruises she would have later on. Ignoring her protests he continued to fight, his frustration making his attacks a bit wild, pummeling the young general.
"Oof!" Denevive grunted, his head spinning from the sudden blow to the head and for a moment he didn't know which way his sword was going.
"Oh, no you don't!" She declared, springing back into the middle of the melee and taking over for Allen once more, giving him a good kick again during her flurry of blows.
The young Fanelian was still dazed, not sure who he was fighting or which way his sword was going. He made a move, thrusting suddenly and felt resistance on his blade. He had got him! He got . . . her! He gasped when he saw the young woman before him. His sword was firmly planted in her midsection.
"Celena!" Allen immediately dropped his sword and raced forward. A solid kick to the startled Fanelia's gut felled him, and he turned quickly to his sister, catching her and lowering her carefully to the arena floor. Denevive's withdrawal had ripped the sword from her, and he pressed his hands firmly over the wound to staunch it. "Celena, you fool," he whispered, using the extra material of her dress to stop the blood. "You precious fool, what have you done?"
"It's all right. . ." she choked, blood welling up in her throat. A small stream of it trickled down the side of her mouth and she coughed at the abnormal feeling. She looked around, the sun so bright in her eyes she could hardly see her brother at all. "The - king . . . . wanted death . . . he got one."
Denevive staggered to his feet, still dazed from all of what had happened. He stumbled towards Allen and knelt by him, "I - I'm sorry . . . I couldn't . . . see her . . ."
"Don't you dare speak to me now," Allen hissed, his words choked and raw. "For God's sake, find a doctor." He returned his attention to Celena, bending forward to kiss her forehead as his hands remained clasped to her stomach. "Don't you dare give up on me now, little bird," he murmured thickly. "Not now, when I've only just found you..."
Denevive quickly went off to do what he was told, running to the locked gates and pleading with the guard to find a doctor.
"I'm sorry..." she cried, the tears blinding her along with the brightness, "I didn't want to see you die. You have to . . . " she was taken suddenly by a violent fit of coughing, blood spurting from deep within her throat and staining the dust with red speckles.
"Stop. Celena, don't speak," Allen pleaded, his hands trembling about her blood. "Please, just lie still. You'll be all right. No one....no one will die here today." He tried to smile, for her sake, to comfort her, but the expression died on his lips. "Please, just be strong until the doctor comes."
Celena felt herself slipping away, growing ever so tired. Her coughing stopped and she stared up at the sky, for once her eyes focusing on it before seeing the pained expression on her brother's face. "I'm tired, Allen..." she whispered, closing her eyes. She was soon limp on the ground.
Denevive soon came back, having sent the guard for a doctor. He stopped when he saw the young lady he had fallen for just two nights ago, bleeding by his own sword. He suddenly felt sick.
"Celena? Celena!" Allen shook her, almost violently, his face twisting into something strange and his gasping. "Celena, please! You..." He shuddered, touching her pale face, frightened by how cold if felt against his bloodied hands. "Celena, please, you can't....you can't leave like this....not..." A sob welled in his throat and was freed. "Not like this..."
Hearing Allen's sob, Denevive's eyes widened. "Is she - dead?" He gasped nervously.
Allen raised his head slowly, like a man suspended, and turned toward the boy. His hands were stained, his blond locks, too, his eyes a terrifying shade. "I'd kill you," he murmured distantly, "if I thought it might give her satisfaction to take with her."
"This was not my intention!" He protested, feeling grief for the loss of the young lady. His guilt was nearly overwhelming. "She just - jumped right in . . . she was too fast."
"Don't speak to me," the knight snapped, turning his gaze back to her sister. She was yet breathing....slow and shallow....but for how long? He removed his white silk shirt, twisting it about her slender waist to try and keep the blood from leaking. "Dear God," he prayed, tying it tightly to her. "If you would only save this young girl... I beg...." At last he lifted his head to the audience, searching out his king, injustice and sorrow in his eyes.
King Aston was not seated in his chair, yet there were many people staring down at something on the floor of the balcony. The doctor was there as well, helping someone, supposedly the king. It was the doctor that was supposed to help Celena before, apparently, the king needed assistance. Van looked to Allen, watching him with a worried gaze and unable to do anything to help him. Millerna was there as well, sobbing over her father's fallen form.
Denevive stared at the knight's back, gritting his teeth in frustration. "I didn't mean to kill her!" He insisted. "You must believe me!"
Allen didn't hear, too focused was the on the form of his fallen king. What in the world was going on? Had everyone gone mad? Realizing slowly that no one was coming to help his sister, Allen fixed the bandage once more and scooped her into his arms, trembling as they were. "Denevive," he said sharply, already starting out of the arena. "Come with me."
Denevive followed without question, sheathing his bloodied blade without cleaning it. "Where are we going?" He asked. He looked at Celena, gasping at how pale she looked.
"We need to find her water, and fresh bandages," he said without pausing. "I haven't given up on her yet." He glanced back only once, viewing the chaos in the royal box, somehow unable to feel any remorse for whatever was happening. "Go ahead of me--find whatever you can."
"Yes, of course." He said, leaving at once. The guards having long since opened the gates back up since the news of their king reached them. He quickly left, running to the nearest medicine room in the pits. He looked in all the jars and found a suitable amount of bandages. Near the end of the room was a bucket with a sponge next to a water pump. He pumped water in the bucket as quickly as he could and carried the items back to the main pits.
Allen laid his sister out on a wide bench, being careful of her injury. While Denevive was away he undid the crude bandage, surveying the damage. But without any knowledge of Millerna's medical arts, he had no idea where to begin. "Celena, hold on," he whispered, glancing up as Denevive returned.
The jostling about stirred her sleep and she opened her eyes - only to shut them in the agony she felt in her midsection. She ground her teeth, "It hurts . . ."
"Celena!" Allen bent over her, grateful that at least she was still somewhat conscious. "Celena, just lie still," he instructed, retrieving the materials from Denevive and giving her a sip of water. "Just be quiet a bit--we'll take care of you." His eyes met Denevive's briefly, gratefully, as he began to clean and bandage the wound properly.
"How is she?" asked Van, coming down the stairs that led up to the stands. He knelt next to Allen, looking up at Denevive briefly before turning his attention to the girl.
"She's alive," Allen replied, continuing his work. "But you know I know nothing of this sort of work." He ground his teeth in frustration. "But thank you for coming, Van. What is going on up there?"
"King Aston . . . was having an episode." explained Van quickly, "He's dead."
Allen's face twitched, and his heart skipped a beat, and then he went on without falter. "Dead," he repeated quietly. In a surge of bitterness he scowled, and muttered, "Perhaps the sight of my family's blood was too great a joy for his frail diseased heart."
"What was she thinking? Jumping into the arena like she did?" asked Van after a moment, confused as anyone.
"She...." Allen nearly choked on the words as he tightened the bandages further. "She did it for me," he whispered. At last he was finished, and sat back, releasing a deep sigh. He pressed a hand to his forehead without noticing the blood he spread. "Dear God...it was for me."
"For - you?" he asked, "She risked her life to save yours...I can understand why but - then again, I can't."
"I'll have a great many questions for her myself....once she is well..." Allen murmured, staring down at her pale, blood-soiled form. And suddenly he found himself on his feet, striding purposefully away from the scene. "Look after her a moment," he asked softly, preparing to be quite ill.
Van nodded, watching Allen leave. He looked towards the girl, her wondrous beauty marred by her own blood, her face soiled . . . he felt more remorse for her and yet at the same time felt a great amount of hope. Hope that she'll live. Fiery enough to risk her life to save her brother's is worthy of any great thing in the world.
Allen returned a few minutes later, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. His cheeks were a sickly pale and his steps slow and trembling. He pulled a stool up beside the bench upon which his sister rested, and there kept vigil. There was nothing more he could do now, unless a doctor arrived...but with the chaos continuing above, that seemed unlikely. All he could do was bow his head in prayer.
Van looked to the knight, glancing towards Denevive who was now seated on the ground near them. Slowly, he lay a reassuring hand on Allen's slumped shoulder. "Don't worry," he said softly, "she's strong. Like her brother."
"Thank you." Allen touched his sister's cheek, cringing. "Van. What will I do if she dies?" he breathed. "What could I do?"
"Don't think such things," he said, taking a breath. He knew death was a very strong possibility but there was no need to say it out loud. "You must have hope for her - it's all you or any of us can do."
"Yes. Yes, you're right." Allen nodded, as if to assure himself. "Again, thank you. I'm so sorry for all of this, Van." He glanced briefly at Denevive. "For what I could have done. When did the world go mad again?"
"Allen . . .?" Celena choked softly, holding her wound. It was so much pain - she had never felt so much pain before. She panted in her agony, trying to calm herself and the pain, "Allen, I'm cold..."
Allen ruffled her hair faintly, trying to comfort her. "I know, Celena. Just lie still." He glanced about for something in which to warm her, but there were only bandages and leather pouches here. His gaze landed at last on Van's royal attire, and the thick cape he sported.
Van instantly knew what Allen was thinking and without question, removed his cape, handing it to the knight. "Not the world," he explained, "all it took was one man and his crown."
"It is a lesson to us all." He spread the cape over his sister, nodding to his friend gratefully. "Just hold on, Celena," Allen told her, stroking her hair and face. "It's going to be all right. Just rest."
"Allen," he whispered to the knight, "Maybe it would be best if we took her home . . . That way she'll at least be home if she . . . " he didn't feel right finishing that sentence.
Allen didn't reply for some time, just staring at his sister's anguished form. At last he nodded his head, once. "Yes, you're right." Again he gathered Celena into his arms, mindful of her pain. "But once we find a carriage, I'll have to ask you take her for me. There may yet be a doctor in the city I can call upon, and I know Palas better than either of you." He glanced at Denevive, his jaw working. "You are both welcomed in my home, if you would look after my Celena for me."
Both Van and Denevive nodded, ready to follow the knight. It didn't take long for them to find a carriage - Van had his waiting for him outside of the stadium. Finding a doctor took a little longer than any of them had hoped, Celena still bleeding profusely even with the bandages she had on her wound. Late afternoon came and by that time, Celena was back in her own bed, deathly ill with fever and pain. The doctor they had found did all he could to help the girl and told them the rest was up to the gods.
Celena was still conscious throughout everything, wishing desperately for sleep. She still clutched at her wound, moaning in pain and wishing to end it all - even if it meant her life.
Allen refused to leave her side as the evening melted into night, even to change his clothes or wash the blood from his hands, face, and hair. He was exhausted in every sense, drawing his only comfort from the steady presence of his ancient companion. He spoke words of encouragement to his sister amidst whispers, cleaned her tears and prayed for her. It was only a matter of time before they knew, one way or the other....
"Allen..." She said softly, her head aching terribly, "forgive me."
Allen applied another cool cloth to her forehead. "It's all right, Celena," he told her softly. "I forgive you. You'll make it up to me, once you've recovered."
She closed her eyes against the feel of the damp cloth on her forehead, hoping it will soothe her headache. "What if - what if I don't?"
"You will," he assured quickly. "You will. It will just take time." He smiled faintly as his heart shattered. "You were never one for patience, though, were you? Perhaps now you'll listen to me."
She coughed suddenly, not as violent as that afternoon but still worrisome. Swallowing, she moved her head to the side, wanting all the pain to just end. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, hating her next words, "Why didn't he just kill me?"
"Because he dared not rid the world of so charming a lady," Allen replied, his voice strangled. "Now be still, won't you? All this talking isn't good for you."
"I'm tired of talking." She insisted, "I'm tired of - this pain. I want it to end!" She sobbed, "Make it stop. Just end my life! Please, I beg of you."
Allen closed his eyes briefly, struggling within himself. "No, Celena. You don't know what you're asking for."
"I do know." She said, tears flowing freely down her pale cheeks, "It means that this pain will end. . . It hurts, brother."
"I know, but you have to be strong a while longer." He tried not to sound pleading. "Who will I torment if you leave me? Who will straighten my collar?" His voice lowered. "Who will I love, more deeply than myself or anyone?"
Celena cried still, reaching out her hand and searched for his to hold. "I don't want to leave you. But it doesn't look like I have much of a choice . . ."
Allen instantly took her hand and held it tight. "Please, don't speak. You'll need that strength." He kissed her palm delicately. "Just think of me, Celena. Stay with me."
"I don't feel very well, brother." She whispered, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat. "What did the doctor say?"
"He said it was up to us," Allen told her, smiling ever so faintly. "'If she is strong,' he said. I believe you are strong enough."
"Funny," she laughed bitterly, "I don't feel very strong."
"Well, it's hard, when you're so tired," he conceded. "But with some rest, and some time, you'll be as good as new. Probably even better," he added, "because you've had some sense put into you."
"I almost won, had you not pummeled the boy . . ." She grinned weakly at him.
"Yes, I think you might have." Allen still felt weak, on the verge of vomiting again, but he dared not escape her gaze let alone her presence. "But we'll discuss that later. You should try to sleep, and get your strength back."
"Allen?" whispered the frail girl.
"Yes?" he said instantly, his attention unfaltering.
"Will you - lay down with me?" she asked wearily, her features beginning to calm as she finally began to drift towards sleep.
Allen smiled, and without hesitation pulled himself onto the bed beside her, as they did when they were children. "Sleep, Celena," he whispered. "You'll be better soon enough."
She nodded slightly. "I love you, brother."
"I love you, too, Celena." He kissed her cheek. "Now, sleep."
She was fast asleep before he even finished his words.