Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Once Upon a Glass of Wine ❯ One-Shot

Once Upon a Glass of Wine

By: rainjewel

Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne, you don't own Escaflowne. Get over it. <smile> This fanfic contains some nice yaoi, due to the fact that I had to write something in which Folken loses his clothes <smile>. And also due to the fact that I'm expanding my horizons and have been reading WAY too many yaoi fanfics lately. Anyway, enjoy!

PS- Any criticisms and reviews are VERY welcome! Email me at esca_rain@hotmail.com please!!

The door slams. Metal footsteps.

"I heard you summoned me. What's the great importance?"

Dilandau Albatou, the Captain of the DragonSlayers and the greatest warrior in Zaibach, is here, and the haughtiness of his voice lets me know of his dissatisfaction. I turn slowly, black leather creaking. The soldier's star-colored hair and bright garnet eyes seem to illuminate the usual gloominess of my chambers. The fiery red armor he wears so proudly seems to literally glow with pride. However, after a closer inspection, I see a few traces of lines in Dilandau's face. It troubles me that one so young should already bear the lines of aged weariness. A frown stains his pale lips. He's obviously not pleased with being summoned so late at night. I sigh; my timing couldn't be helped.

"Sit." I motion to a small table that is host to a bottle of wine and two wineglasses. I've noticed that Dilandau's usually easier to talk to after a few sips of good Freidian wine, though it doesn't dull his reason.

Dilandau gracefully slides into a chair and rests his right leg upon the table, then folds his hands docilely in his lap. I look at him for a moment, trying to judge his manner. As usual, I can't. He' s the only person that I can never read, beside myself. Finally I lower myself into the chair across from him. I slowly reach across the table and take the bottle of wine and open it. Dilandau watches me, his face a tired mask. I pour the wine into the wineglasses and place one before him. I set my own wineglass to my right.

"So, what did you need to talk to me about?" Dilandau asks. He takes his leg off the table, slowly repositioning himself like a cat. He takes his wineglass in his hand and delicately dips his pinky finger it. He then withdraws his finger, circling the rim of his glass with it.

"I just received new orders about the capturing of the province of Dondaira tomorrow." I say. I don't offer anything more. I like to make him ask. I slowly take a sip of my wine. The sweet alcohol tastes good for some reason. I usually don't like the taste of wine.

Dilandau's eyes snap to my face at the mention of battle. "What changes have been made?" He says with urgency. He takes a hungry gulp of his wine.

"General Adelphos would like for you to only capture the mine. Dondaira has some sort of half-treaty with Asturia. If you hurt any civilians, Asturia will have to attack." I reply quietly. Dilandau regards the news with a resigned look in his eyes. I can tell he's disappointed at the prospect of not being able to incinerate the entire country. As beautiful and angelic as his appearance might be, Dilandau is a warrior-a warrior that thoroughly enjoys his work. However, I find it strange that he is accepting the orders so calmly. I expect at least some resistance. As usual Dilandau doesn't fail me. Better late then never.

"Why do we care if Asturia attacks?" Our forces are 10 times that of Asturia. You have that king in your pocket anyway." Dilandau's eyes brighten with this newfound loophole.

The talk of battle makes him heated, or else it is the wine. He takes another sip of the red alcohol.

"Dilandau," I sigh, "We can't burn and pillage every single country that we attack. All we need is the mine. Also, we need Fried. They hold the power spot. To get to Freid we have to have Asturia." I look at him impassively.

"Of course," Dilandau says, a kittenish purr in his voice. I know that voice. That voice is the sound of a predator about to pounce. "Folken, always the logical one, the cautious one. 'We can't burn and pillage every single country…' Would you just pull some balls out of your pockets and-"

Dilandau stops his tirade and suddenly clutches his throat. I look up from my wineglass and see his eyes bulge slightly. He stands up from his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. I stand up, my body finally reacting with my surprise. The silver-haired boy falls to the ground, thrashes once, his eyes full of terror. He screams once, then those garnet-colored irises close and he's still.

"What the hell?" I say out loud. Quickly I am at his side, on my knees. His face is very pale, even paler then usual. I drop my head to his, and can tell that he's not breathing. Immediately I lower my lips to his, close his nose, and give him a few slow rescue breaths. He still doesn't stir. I want to call for a doctor, or a sorcerer, but they'll never reach us in time. My quarters, unfortunately, are hidden deep within the bowels the Vione. My mind races. I continue with my rescue attempts. Finally I place my fingers to the boy's neck, only to realize that Dilandau has lost his pulse. "Baka!" I cry softly to myself. Hastily, my actions becoming more frantic, I rip his jacket from his body, and begin pumping his chest. After 15 thrusts I breathe once again into his mouth.

Gasping, thank gods, he's gasping. I lift my head. Dilandau's eyes flick open, and his pupil's are large black orbs encompassed in ruby pools. He sits up suddenly, almost crashing into my face. I jerk back at this unexpected movement. Dilandau's eyes are unfocused, but there's terror in them that shakes me to the bone. He clutches his throat again, taking erratic and shallow breaths. His eyes begin to roll back in his head, and I place my hand on the back of his neck, my other on his shoulder. Gently I shake him, and his eyes snap back into focus.

"Dilandau, Dilandau!" I say rather sharply. He looks at me confusedly, his look that of a deer before a hunter. There's so much terror in those eyes.

"Folken!" His voice comes out raspy, and his eyes snap into focus. His white hands reach inside my cloak and grab at the leather of my uniform. Shuddering, he falls against my chest. Dilandau, the greatest soldier in all Zaibach of, is clinging to me. For once I have no idea on how to proceed. The art of soothing another creature is foreign to me. I can't even soothe my own soul.

After a few minutes Dilandau's shaking stops and he quietly draws his knees up to his chest, wrapping one free arm around them. He keeps his left arm clutched inside my cloak. He still keeps his body against mine. Slowly I move to rise from my crouched position. I have to alarm the doctors.

"Folken, don't leave me, please don't leave me!" The accursed voice, the voice that terrifies even the most hardened soldiers, is weak and pleading. Dilandau encircles his arms around my body, clutching at me like a small child. His eyes briefly look up at me imploringly, then he buries his head in my chest. Reflexively I wrap my arms around him, holding him to me. What am I doing? I wonder. Gradually I come to the realization that I'm actually enjoying this contact. I haven't been touched in ages. I need to hold him as much as he needs to be comforted by me. Quickly I shake my head. This isn't right, I tell myself. Dilandau is a soldier, a soldier in Zaibach's army. He shouldn't be doing this, and for a matter of fact, neither should I. Still, I sigh with pleasure and simply hold him.

Minutes pass. I have lost all sense of time. How long I have sat here on the ground, this warm angel in my arms, I don't know. Dilandau is quiet and still. He's been so for quite sometime. Perhaps he is asleep. I silently undo my cloak with one hand and drape it over Dilandau. He starts slightly, but I hold him still and comfort him by humming and old Fanelian tune. Presently I finish, and everything is quiet and still once more. I start to feel slightly drowsy myself and begin to think if I should end this nonsense or not.

"I saw death," comes a whisper. I snap my head up from where it had rested atop Dilandau's silvery tresses. I feel the boy's warm breath as he speaks against my chest. I don't say anything. I know what it is like to see death. Words cannot describe it.

"I was all alone," Dilandau begins. He sounds like one revealing a deep, horrid secret. "Trapped in nothingness. I never want to die, not if that is my fate," Dilandau takes in a shaky breath and stops. His words are short and clipped.

"A soldier's life is full of death," I say, filling the silence while Dilandau reclaims his voice. Damn! Why did I say that? I want to reach out and catch the words and crush them in my fist. I feel Dilandau's head nodding in agreement against my chest.

"If…if that is death, then I…I don't think I can deal with that anymore." His voice is soft and childish. I feel the stain of tears upon my chest. Dilandau is crying. I know that I should reassure him. If this boy, this soldier, gives up his livelihood this war will be over. Zaibach will lose and everything I have worked for will mean nothing. I should tell him fairytale lies about how the life of a soldier is glorious. But I can't lie to him. I could lie to the gods and never think twice about it, but I can't lie to this angel that is crying in my arms. Instead I wrap my arms a little tighter around him and hold him close to me.

My mind drifts. Van, Van used to do this. Late at night he'd come trembling to my door and ease it open, trying to be quiet. I would always hear the noise of the creaking of footsteps and awake from my slumber. "Folken, are you awake?" he'd say, his little voice weak with fear. I'd always tell him yes, and he'd crawl into my bed and cry about his nightmares to me while I held him in my arms. Eventually he'd quiet down and would drift off to sleep.

"I never want to be alone."

The voice breaks my reverie, and my mind quickly readjusts. Dilandau is trembling in my grasp. Dilandau is frightened of being alone? I almost laugh bitterly, but laughing is something I do not do. Dilandau has tons of people fawning over him. He will never be alone. Now, I realize, now is the time to speak.

"You'll never be alone," I say softly. My deep voice seems to echo across the room. Dilandau pulls his head away from my chest, his hair a flash of silver. He looks up at me with big, watery crimson irises. Small, pearly tears are trickling down his face.

"Promise me." His voice is soft and urgent, and his commanding tone shows slightly. "Promise me that I'll never be alone." His hands are on my shoulders, gripping them tightly.

Don't ask me, Dilandau, I think. I've never kept a promise in my life.

"Dilandau, I can't pro-" My voice breaks off as I see the pleading look in his eyes.

"Please."

Such a simple word. Dilandau's voice is small and beautiful. He sounds like a child. Finally, the revelation hits me like a slap in the face. Dilandau is but a child. For once he's not the cold, efficient killer that I know him to be. He's a real person, with emotions and feelings. And right now he's absolutely terrified and he needs someone to tell him that everything's going to be okay. That, I realize, is me.

"I promise." There. I said it. Strangely, I want to keep this promise.

Impulsively I reach down with my left hand and wipe his tears. The salty drops burn against my fingertips but I don't care. I couldn't stop myself right now even if the Gates to Atlantis reopened. I run my fingers through his silver hair. I look into his eyes, searching for relief. I need him to regain his composure. Having him so broken and beautiful in my arms is too inviting. His eyes, with those damned crimson irises, are wide and unchanged. This worries me greatly.

"Dilandau?" I ask questioningly. Suddenly he throws his arms around my neck and hugs me roughly. I recoil slightly at the spontaneity of his embrace.

"Thank you," he whispers into my ear. I'm stunned. Dilandau has never thanked anyone in his life. I hesitantly wrap my arms around his body, uncertain of my own actions. He buries his face in the crook of my neck like a baby. I allow myself a small smile. It feels good to be needed.

Kisses.

Gods no. I breathe in sharply as Dilandau kisses my neck sweetly. He's mumbling in between his kisses, talking of being lonely. I block it out. Against my will, I relax into his embrace. My mind is screaming against body. More kisses. They burn into my flesh like a scalding piece of metal. I close my eyes, guiltily enjoying the forbidden pleasure. Gods Folken, I tell myself, he's just a child, just a child reaching for affection. Unfortunately, my body doesn't agree, and I shiver with pleasure at his touch. Damn.

Dilandau pulls away. I don't open my eyes, afraid to look into those deep eyes. Those eyes could swallow me whole, and I can't have that right now. I feel his lips on my face, caressing my teardrop. His lips are like a cold flame, if there is such a thing. My eyes spark and open unexpectedly. His eyes, gods, those absorbing crimson eyes are wide and inviting. He caresses my cheek slightly. His own cheeks are red and flushed. He looks like a glorious seraph. I feel heat rushing through my body. My resolve is dissolving like sugar in water.

"Poor, beautiful Strategos, you're crying," Dilandau says with a purr. That does it. Everything that has been building up inside me explodes. All the endless nights of mourning for my mistakes, the uncertainties, the constant tension rushes my system with frightening urgency. I cup my hand behind his neck and lower my lips to his. I kiss him deeply, more powerful and insistent then I'd meant too. He responds passionately, although his kisses are more inexperienced then mine, his enthusiasm makes up for it. Dilandau, who I just thought was a child, seems to be a lot older all of a sudden.

Finally I break off the kiss, my conscience screaming in my head. Dilandau looks at me hazily, then kisses me again, his lips fervent and tasting lightly of wine. I pull together my morality. Gently I pull my head back and look away.

"I can't…" I say. I know it sounds stupid and weak but it's all I can manage at the moment.

Dilandau leans back and looks at me haughtily with his commanding manner that is all his own. Inwardly I smile; this is the Dilandau I know.

"Why not?" he asks silkily, "Aren't I good enough for you Folken? Aren't I beautiful enough?" Before I can answer his hand cups my face and he gently runs my head to meet his gaze. I allow it, even though I know I shouldn't. I realize I want to look at him; drink in that translucent beauty.

Dilandau's eyes burn imploringly. "I know you're lonely Strategos. I watch you when you're not looking. You stay up late every night working on your experiments while whistling those godawful mournful tunes. You're not happy, Folken. I…" he stops and kisses my throat, sending shivers down my spine."…Can…" His lips move to my jaw. Gods this is so dreadfully wonderful. "…Make…" he kisses my temple. I close my eyes, trying to block out the burning sensation his lips leave upon my skin. "…You…" his voice is urgent, but he kisses the corner of my eye languorously. I bite my lip, stopping a traitorous moan in its tracks. "…Happy…" He kisses my mouth softly with so much promise in his lips that I'm driven almost to the point of madness.

I'm horrified with myself. Emotions surge through me and I foolishly kiss him back. Brazenly I run my hands over his back and bring him closer to me. This is what I want, and he knows it.

Slowly I move my mouth from his lips and wetly kiss his tear-stained cheeks. Gently I move my lips down and nuzzle his neck-excited, horrified, and completely bewildered by my actions. Dilandau cries out a little in delight, then fold his body into mine. Running his hands down my chest he unclasps my jacket and slips it from my body. His touch is hot burns me to my soul. Warning bells signal somewhere deeply within my conscience.

Quickly I pull away, gasping a little. Dilandau smiles brightly at me, running his graceful fingers through my hair. He chuckles lightly, a twittering sound that is completely foreign to me. It's not his usual maniacal laughter, but something innocent and beautiful. Dilandau, innocent? Not if I can help it, says some lecherous voice in my brain. I quiet it and reassert my purpose.

"We should stop," I barely whisper with revealing reluctance. Even in this whisper, I notice that my voice has taken on an even huskier note. I smile inwardly, amused that my voice could actually deepen.

"Oh no Strategos, that is where you are wrong. Please, for once let me teach," Dilandau says, covering my shoulder with persuasive kisses. I gather my willpower and pull him off my chest.

"You cannot be serious," I say to him, not believing my own words. He looks at me with hungry, crimson eyes. Eyes that match my own.

"My beautiful Folken," he says tenderly, "You know I don't make jokes." And with that he presses against me with surprising strength. I feel my own arms encircle him as we gently fall to the ground, and then my world dissolves into bliss.

Now I lie here in my own bed, looking at a sleeping angel. How Dilandau and I ended up in my bed is a total mystery to me. I smile. Life has many mysteries.

Gently I lean down and kiss Dilandau's slumbering lips. He coos softly in his sleep and snuggles against me. I readily accept his warmth. The chilly Vione air makes my skin prickle with goosebumps. Slowly I straighten and pull the twisted sheets up and cover our bodies.

I sigh with immense pleasure and look down yet again and Dilandau's sleeping face. He looks like a whole different individual without the shield of the Zaibach uniform. Angels, I think, should not be put into armor. After spending a few more minutes drinking in his beauty I close my own eyes. I feel more spent then I've ever felt in my entire life.

Where this impulsive night is taking me, I don't know. It might affect my life greatly, and it might not. All I know is all I want right now is to hold this angel in my arms and fall asleep with him beside me.