Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ The White Dragon ❯ The Albatou Household ( Chapter 2 )

Two chapters in one day. I'm on a roll. (Either that, or I have no life. I'm going for the latter.)

The White Dragon

Two

"Where are we going today, father?"

"To visit your cousins in the outer territory. You remember Chesta and Wilder, don't you?"

Two horses trod slowly down the trail, heading parallel to the distant city walls of Palas. A boy of six or seven sat astride the smaller horse, which he commanded with loving gentleness and a relaxed seat. His father rode a taller beast, his cut, blonde hair tied back in a short ponytail which reached his lower shoulder. The boy had equally blonde hair, but it hung down to his middle back in uneven strokes. His face was soft and smooth, his deep blue eyes bright and lively.

Allen sighed as the morning sun began to rise. They had departed early that morning, riding out of the stable in the still dark of the night. The journey to the outer territory took a good portion of the day, and Allen knew his sister would be angry if they arrived after dinner. She absolutely loved to feed her visitors, especially if they were family.

Antonio had bitterly objected when Allen opted to leave the boy's twin sister behind, but she had contracted a cold only days before. Eries was caring for her, and would soon be taking her to Palas to see if the sickness was anything more serious than a cough.

Allen watched his son with admiration. The boy was always gentle and caring, never dreaming of harming anyone or anything. That particular trait had earned him the preference of most of the horses, dogs, and other various animals that seemed to stop by the house. Antonio had a natural way with things; he always "went with the flow" and always wanted to do what was right. He was incredibly honest and was a great benefactor of justice in the Schezar household.

Allen sighed, brushing a stray lock of his blonde hair out of his face. He hadn't seen his sister or brother-in-law in four years; Antonio and his sister, Marlene, hadn't seen their cousins since the two were less than three years old. Chesta, the older boy and first-born, had been a strange one. He rarely spoke and always seemed to be lurking. His young sister, who was barely a year old when Allen had first seen her, was nothing like any of them. Wilder was incredibly reminiscent of her late grandfather, from her dark skin and hair to her wild and inquisitive personality. Chesta seemed to like her enough, never holding her but allowing her to crawl or walk uneasily with one hand attached to his pant leg behind him.

The knight wrote often to his sister, but she was too busy with her husband and their two children to respond often. From what he knew, Dilandau was working some ways from home in the outskirts of the new Zaibach empire in a guymelef factory. Despite Allen's objections, King Fassa had refused to interfere in the albino's life if he was still within the law. When the knight and his family had visited, Dilandau was in the process of teaching his young son the art of using a guymelef. Dilandau himself never got inside the mobile, but Chesta seemed proficient enough. The boy was definitely skilled with a sword, but Allen had only seen him practicing and had not had the chance to test his theory.

The sun had begun to rise when the two riders finally left the forest. As abruptly as the wide vast of trees ended, an equally immense land of rippling grass greeted them. They were making good time, Allen noted, as they stopped to retrieve some packed breakfasting food from their packs.

***

Celena lay in bed, blankets tucked up to her chin. She held her book on her chest, attempting to read while keeping the little object upright.

There was a shuffle as Dilandau climbed in beside her, growling at the covers bunched up at his feet. After getting situated, he put out his candle and went down while Celena turned the page.

And he tossed. And turned. After ten minutes of constant movement from the other side of the bed, Celena set her book down with a loud thump. Dilandau sat up, looking at her curiously.

"Will you stop that already?" she growled, flopping back to her pillow. Dilandau sighed, lying down on his back. "What's wrong?"

"There's something that I've been meaning to tell you. It slipped my mind years ago," he replied, fluffing his two feather pillows. Celena raised one eyebrow, turning over to him and tucking the blankets around her shoulders. "Remember when Chesta was born and I first saw him, I said his name, and you decided to keep it because it sounded familiar?" Celena nodded in response. "Chesta... Chesta was the name of one of my top dragonslayers."

"How come you never told me?" she asked, seemingly calm. Dilandau raised his eyebrows in surprise that she hadn't moved to cut off his head.

"I'm not sure. I just thought about it today, I guess. They have the same hair," he responded, letting out a breath he was unaware that he was holding. Celena looked up, crossing her arms over the quilt.

"What is wrong with our son?" she inquired quietly, closing her eyes. Dilandau frowned, reaching one hand under her to gather her up in his arms.

"It's a phase," he replied, lightly kissing her neck. "He'll grow out of it." Celena stifled a giggle as he pecked her ear.

On the other side of the house, Chesta sat at the small window seat that his father had installed only a year earlier. The boy's mother had noted at an early age that he enjoyed thinking alone, and had suggested it as a place to do his contemplating, for she had had one as a child and as an early adult. Though Chesta had never inquired about the gap of time that Celena seemed to avoid, he knew it was something that involved his father. Compared to children he knew, - he had no real friends - his parents were incredibly close, even after ten and a half years of marriage. In the small town they lived in, there had been talk when Chesta was younger about he being an illegitimate child.

Chesta never cared. He was fond of his parents for everything they did for him, and especially of his father for teaching him ways with a sword and a guymelef, but he didn't really love anyone except his sister.

He sat on the window seat, arms crossed on the sill, the open window panes to either side of him. The white curtain blew in a cool, evening breeze, waving and billowing out like an ivory ghost. The two moons of Gaea hung high in the sky, casting an ethereal glow on the planet. On the lesser moon, or the child of the Mystic Moon, Chesta could quite clearly make out a strange eye shape; he had once commented about it to his little sister, but she had given him a bewildered look, clearly either not having any idea what he was talking about or just not seeing it at all. She was a bright girl, and so it just made him feel even more out of place.

That's what he was. Just a lost boy without a place in the world.

As Chesta mulled over his thoughts, his door opened quietly. The creak of the hinges instantly caught his attention, and he jumped in a defensive position.

A pair of deep, ochre eyes peered into the room, flickering like flames in the moonlight. A lock of dark blonde hair fell out of the shadow, giving away the little girl hiding behind the door.

"Will?" Chesta asked, walking to the door. It opened a little more, allowing the five-year-old to slip into the room.

She let out a cry, grabbing onto his leg. Chesta jumped in surprise, then watched with a furrowed brow as Wilder buried her face in his thigh, letting out a sob.

"What is it?" the white-haired boy pressed, lightly touching his sister's hair with one hand. She sniffled, looking up with a dark, tear-streaked face.

"I had a bad dream," she admitted, still holding onto his pajama bottoms with her hands. Chesta sighed, kneeling down and lightly putting his hands under her arms. He heaved her up with strength he didn't appear to harness and hugged her against his chest.

"It's alright," he assured her, sitting down on the padded window bench. Still hugging her on his lap, Chesta glanced down. "Tell me about it."

Wilder looked up, wiping her moist eyes with one hand. A curly lock of her blonde hair fell in front of her face, which Chesta batted away in irritation. "You were in it," she sniffled, leaning the side of her forehead against him. "And there was a boy, too. He had yellow hair and really big blue eyes, and he was really tall and stuff. Well, not as tall as you, but he was pretty big." Wilder puffed out her bottom lip, looking up at her big brother. He lightly patted her head. "And there was a girl, too. She was really pretty and not tall like you and the other boy. She had this really cool red hair that went everywhere! Her eyes changed color, though. They were blue, not like yours and not like the other boy's."

Wilder lightly clutched the front of his shirt in one hand, looking down and closing her eyes. She opened her mouth to continue, but paused. "What else?" Chesta prodded lightly, readjusting her on his lap.

The little girl looked up, her lip quivering. "Her eyes looked right into me," she whispered.

***

Allen had sent word of their arrival days before, but he wasn't sure if the note had reached the Albatou house yet. He sighed. He would never get used to calling his own sister "Celena Albatou".

The small property was relatively isolated from the rest of the town, but was an easy walking distance from the nearest grocery. The family had a small stable outside a long, one-floor home, but the humble abode was a clever disguise for the two-guymelef hangar that stood just inside the neighboring forest. It wasn't really a forest, per say; it was much more a large patch of trees that had been narrowed out to build the buildings that it harbored.

It was around late afternoon when Allen and Antonio arrived. They stood atop a large hill that overlooked the house; the whole residence sat in a scenic valley, which ended only a few miles west of where the two now stood. The grass was green and lush, contradicting the descending winter. The autumn had been strangely mild, delivering a great deal of sun on Asturia and keeping the crops alive long enough to lengthen the harvest.

Traversing about on the paths below were two figures. One was tall and lanky, with white hair and skin. It walked at a lengthy stride, causing the smaller, darker figure beside it to run if it wanted to keep up.

"Chesta! Wilder!" Antonio called from his horse. The smaller figure instantly looked up, while the taller one merely stopped mid-stride.

"Who's that?" Wilder asked, poking her brother and pointing to the two horses standing at the top of the hill. Chesta slowly looked up, barely registering the two visitors before looking back at his sister.

"Uncle Allen and cousin Antonio," he replied indifferently, turning back to the house.

"That's uncle Allen?! Wow!" Wilder cried, instantly taking off towards her newfound relatives. Chesta merely paced back to the house, disappearing into the front door to alert his parents.

Allen was just as surprised as his son when a small, dark blonde girl came bouncing wildly up the hill toward them. Antonio climbed off his horse - as was custom when greeting a lady - and bowed. He raised his gaze, regarding the short girl with inquisitive eyes.

She was a ball of excitement. Her long, slightly curly dark blonde hair bounced around her face, occasionally falling in front of her strange, diffused bergundy eyes. Her skin was a bizarre tan and her lips blood red. Antonio wondered if the little child was actually related to him.

"I'm Wilder!" the girl greeted, sticking out one hand. Antonio blinked, unsure of how to respond. Looking at the outstretched hand, he slowly responded by grasping it in his own and shaking slightly. Wilder's eyes lit up, and she grinned widely. Antonio couldn't help but smile back.

Allen got off his horse, leading it up beside the two cousins. "You remember Wilder," he confirmed to his son. Antonio nodded, but only slightly.

"She was just little back then," he noted, watching as the little girl examined her much taller uncle with scrutinizing eyes.

"She still is little," Allen whispered, earning a laugh from the boy. Wilder furrowed her brow.

"You must be uncle Allen," she deducted, grabbing the bottom of his knightly coat in one hand. Allen's eyebrows raised in surprise as she pulled up the bottom, inspecting the sword at his side. "Mom's told me a lot about you."

Allen chuckled nervously, grabbing the coat out of her hands and tucking it back down. Wilder blinked, then shrugged and looked up. "I hope they were all good things," Allen laughed, patting the little girl's head. She nodded and turned.

"Come on! I'm sure Chesta already told mother you were here, so she'll have all kinds of goodies ready!" Wilder cried, motioning towards the house. "Brother and I will put your horses away," she added. Allen nodded, his son following suit.

Before long, the trio reached the stable. Chesta was already waiting, taking the two mounts without a word. His sister waved to Allen and Antonio before disappearing into the stalls with her brother to feed and water the animals.

"I don't really remember aunt Celena and uncle Dilandau," Antonio commented as they stood at the front door. "Well... I remember aunt Celena as having white hair and being really nice. But I don't think I met uncle Dilandau."

Allen shook his head. "I don't think you did either. He works a long ways off and Celena's said he doesn't come home often. He stays there for a few days and here for a few days," the man replied. "Apparently, the technician where he works is taking some kind of vacation. Without him the rest of them can't work, so Dilandau's taking a vacation as well." Antonio nodded in response. Despite his young age, the boy was incredibly mature and understood much about the working world and being an adult.

Celena came to the door, quickly opening it. She looked breathless, but smiled warmly nonetheless. "Welcome! Please excuse the wait, I was trying to get Dilandau into something decent and have some tea ready," she apologized, opening the door wide. Allen nodded, and Antonio smiled.

"That's alright, aunt Celena," the boy said kindly, nodding his head respectfully. Celena's pale blue eyes instantly brightened, and she ushered them both inside.

"You must be starving after your ride!" she supposed, leading them through the well-furnished foyer and into the kitchen. Allen nodded.

"It seems you're doing well," he commented, taking the seat offered to him at the main table. The kitchen was large, with a wide ice box near the back door and counters halfway around the room. The floor was tiled in stone, and a thick, well-woven rug lay beneath the table they sat at.

Celena brought over a tray of cups, saucers, and cookies, setting it in front of her two visitors. She took a seat, smiling widely at them both.

"It's been ages, Allen! How have you been? And Eries and Marlene?" she asked, crossing her hands on the table. Antonio took a cookie, tasting it experimentally before smiling widely.

"The girls couldn't come because Marlene came down with some kind of cold," Allen replied, taking a sip of his cup. He smiled at his sister, dipping a cookie in the tea.

"And Antonio, you've gotten so big!" Celena commented, tilting her head and looking the boy over. Antonio nodded graciously, setting his cup in his saucer. Suddenly, there was a loud shuffle and a sudden curse. Celena rolled her eyes, and Antonio watched the source of the sound - the hallway leading off the kitchen - with wide eyes.

Suddenly, a door at the end of the short hall flung open. Dilandau stepped out, rubbing a scratch on his face where a bit of stubble could still be seen. He wore a plain white shirt and traveling trousers, and his hair was barely brushed and pushed out of his face.

The man stepped into the kitchen, not even noticing the two visitors as he took a cup, filling it with cold water out of the ice box. "Celena," he addressed, not looking up. "Wasn't that brother of yours and his brats supposed to be here?"

"We are."