Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Voyager ❯ From a Place Called Bliss ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

By: raven91

A/N: I realize I haven't updated in a very long time. I was actually writing something different when a note of inspiration hit. I wrote several chapters in one sitting. Although I assume that no one will read this story any more, I still hope to see some responses in the future.

Some clarification: As far as I've seen, royalty speak in the third person when addressing their subjects. Van will do the same for the most part. Occasionally, he will slip into first person, but only with Hitomi.

-FantomBlack

Voyager

Chapter 3 - From a Place Called Bliss

I opened my eyes to unfamiliar surroundings.

A great field opened up before me - green, lush, and full of life. It must have been spring. Flowers were in bloom - pink, white, lavender. A heard of deer was grazing somewhere in the distance. The breeze was gentle on my skin; it lifted my hair, toyed with it. Odd, but I couldn't remember what my hair looked like; I couldn't recall what color my eyes were, or how my hands felt. As I looked upon the vastness of the field, I was certain that I wasn't myself - that I had somehow become a part of this magical place - perhaps the last untouched piece of paradise within this world.

A hawk flew overhead - calling out shrilly. Perhaps it had spotted its prey with sharp eyes. Or perhaps it was simply crying out in the ecstasy of flight. I shivered, remembering a time when I had also flown. Only not on my own, but with another. His arms had surrounded me; his warmth had cocooned me. When I was with him, there wasn't anything that could cause me harm. I missed those days; I longed for them to come again. Yet my instinct contradicted my desires. It warned me against wishing - against hoping; against longing.

The breeze passed through me again and I felt myself moving with its rhythm. I was soaring with the hawk, my eyes taking in the endless landscape. My arms were wings - pumping up and down, catching drafts of air, spreading my feathers wide. I wanted to encompass the world; I wanted to embrace it, feel it, be one with it. I lost track of the border between land and sky. I couldn't remember ever being human. With a great whoosh I entered the heart of the stag in the field - I felt its thundering beating. I listened with acute hearing to all the sounds around me - the butterflies in the air, the gurgling of the stream, the whispering of the grass as it moved. I becamesound. Seconds became minutes, and minutes became hours. I passed through all the animals; I felt their urgency, their will to survive. It was peaceful here - I wanted to stay. I would have, had something not been nagging at me. Harsh sounds drifted to me with the wind -

Come back, a voice whispered. Come back…

Why? Why should I return somewhere else when being herefelt so right? The hawk turned our head north; the stag thundered forward with our hooves; the grass sighed with our breath. We did not want to part. But something was wrong - very wrong. My mind was hazy. How had I gotten here? Was I already born into this place? Had I always felt such harmony within my soul?

She's dying...the wind whispered. Was it the wind? Did the wind have such a voice? The stag stopped in mid-stride. The hawk cried out and stopped beating its wings. The grass stood still. Time stopped for me. Then I remembered the word “I”. There was a me, and Iwas here.

Recollection hit me with such force that I lost my breath. Hitomi- that had been my name, once. And the wind - his name was…what was it? Yearning pooled within my gut. I wanted to remember his name. Something jerked me backwards. The stag kicked up his hooves in distress; the hawk let out a heart-breaking cry.

Don't go- they pleaded.

Come back- the wind demanded.

I couldn't hear the stag's heartbeat any more. The field was shrinking; the sun was dimming. I saw the silhouette of the stag, alone, standing at a cresting hill. I reached out with my hands, my fingertips tingling in anticipation of rejoining with that quickly fading paradise, but felt nothing. My hands returned, empty, to my sides. I was helpless.

I tried to pull free of the arms that pulled me from my paradise. I fought relentlessly. But not even my full strength was enough. Whoever it was that was whispering to my soul wanted me to return, and it seemed that there was nothing I could do about it. I stopped struggling; my body went limp. The field was so far away now that I could hardly see it. I suppose I wanted to cry, but I did not. Now that I was no longer a part of the living beings in the grass, I felt nothing.

Come back to me...he whispered, and there was nothing I could do to fight.

Something loomed before me - a shadow? I watched as it landed in the field. With hands are large as mountains, it lifted large chunks of ground and set the trees ablaze. At last, a shred of emotion knifed through me. Horror. The heard of deer was scattered - I saw the stag go down beneath an avalanche of earth. His death was like my own. I felt his dying breath; I felt as though the air was torn from my lungs. The trees, the animals, the grass - everything perished. Before I lost my vision completely, I saw a pair of glowing, red, eyes burning through me from the shadow's face…

In the real world, I gasped for breath. My body shot upright so fast that I felt disoriented for a moment. After I could see, I tried to take in my surroundings. My dream had been so vivid, so horrifying. Cold sweat covered my back; I shivered when a draft snaked up my spine. Sunlight was streaming through a large window in front of me, filtered only by white, gossamer curtains around my bed. The mattress beneath me felt soft - I was sure that it was filled with down. For all the comfort that I should have felt, I panicked. I realized that I wasn't anywhere familiar. Something was stinging on my wrists. Lifting my hands up to my face, I took in the bandages that covered my skin with some alarm. That is, until I finally remembered what had happened. Still, nothing made much sense. I was supposed to be dead, wasn't I? I remembered my final moments in the bath tub, how I had been bleeding my life out into the water. So what was I doing here? And where was here?

Not expecting my questions to answer themselves, I began the arduous journey towards standing. It was harder than I thought. My wrists were in agony and my fingers refused to cooperate. Wherever I moved, the bed shifted with me - the mattress became my worst enemy. It was too soft, too pliable, and much too comfortable. I couldn't remember having slept on anything like it. When, at last, I managed to throw my feet over the edge of the bed, I was out of breath and shivering. I felt as though I had just run a marathon, not battled against a mattress. My feet hit the icy floor and I winced, curling my toes in to try and lessen the surface area in contact with the marble.

I padded over to the window, my knees the consistency of jelly, and looked outside. It seemed that the building I was in stood in a courtyard of stone. I was pretty high up from the ground - maybe two or three stories. Well, I thought ruefully, I guess that rules out one escape plan. There was snow outside, covering the bare branches of the trees. No wonder it was so cold in here.

The courtyard resembled a large driveway - it reminded me of those driveways I'd seen in picture books of castles and large estates. A carriage - no several carriages - could have fit there. I could easily imagine horses parked there before a ball, women climbing out of extravagant coaches dressed in glittering gowns, and handsome gentlemen eagerly greeting each other with bows and smiles. Surely a world like that only existed in fairy tales; the current age had no need for such frivolity.

Moving on, I looked at the rugs adorning the walls. They were beautiful. I recalled seeing pictures of such rugs in a few pamphlets advertising a study abroad trip to Turkey and the Middle East. I wondered if the owner of this place was of that nationality. The designs upon the rugs were foreign to me; they were made up of complex knots and loops, probably significant to someone who knew anything about history. I brushed my hand across the surface of the magnificent display of craftsmanship, marveling at the lack of dust one would normally encounter on such things. Again, I shivered, and this time I finally paid attention to what I was wearing.

Someone had dressed me in a long, blue sleeping gown. I couldn't make out the material, but it was warm. Wool would have been scratchy and cotton would have been stiff - this material seemed to be a hybrid of both. It possessed all of their good qualities without any of the negative characteristics often associated with their make-up. I would have hidden my hands under my arms, but moving them caused me too much pain. My feet were cold - really cold. I dashed to the nearest rug on the floor and sighed in relief when warmth suffused my aching heels. I recognized that I should have been more alert and wary of my situation, but I was much too tired to care. My little walk around the room had exhausted me. In fact, the mattress was looking more and more inviting by the second. Just as I was thinking of how good it would feel to lie back down and close my eyes again, a sound at the double doors made me whirl around. The wood gave a loud creak. There was a muttered curse.

“Sire, she needs rest. Any stress at this point could prove to be fatal.”

“We must see her ourselves…”

“Your Eminence, please, as a doctor I cannot condone this…”

A figure walked into the room. A man. Immediately, his presence took my breath away. He was tall, so much taller than most of the men that I was used to. There was an aura of arrogance around him - a vibe that would have intimidated a tyrant. He was dressed in full battle armor the color of ivory. His shoulders were crowned with spaulders in the shape of dragon heads. On his chest, a crimson symbol stood out boldly. I remembered that symbol vaguely - an upside down triangle that resembled a dragon. It had stood for something, once; something that this man and I had fought for.

Raven hair fell across one side of his face - a face painted for battle. There were three, red stripes slashing across both of his cheeks; a triangle was painted on his forehead. A dark stubble graced his strong chin. His skin was tan - a bronze gifted by the kiss of the sun. Slowly, my eyes slid down to his waist where a deadly blade was tied with a thick, leather belt. I swallowed thickly; there was blood on that blade. It stood out darkly from the ivory sheathe. I watched a drop of it slide down the smooth metal. The scene before me was a savage contradiction to the peaceful scenery I had just watched through my window. I suddenly doubted my sanity again.

But…then…

I looked up into his eyes and lost myself. Years of hardship were written there, in every crease around those orbs. There was such profound depth to them that I thought I might drown before I reached the bottom. At last, the final piece of the puzzle was within my grasp. I remembered everything - how I'd fallen into his arms, how he'd kissed me, and my panicked flight down the hallways of this very place. What must he think of me? Surely, he regretted ever finding me. Shame set my cheeks on fire.

“Hitomi…” He said my name with such feeling, such strength, that I forgot what it was to breathe. How many times had I imagined this moment? How many ways had I imagined him calling out my name? None of the thousand fantasies I'd harbored had come even close. “Kolm,” he gestured to the old man at his side. “Leave us.”

“But Your Majesty…” the wrinkled face protested. Next to the beauty of the younger man, the withered features were ugly and grotesque.

“I said leave us,” the raven-haired man said in a firmer voice. With a pitying glance in my direction, the servant obeyed. How could he not? When his master used that Godlike voice, there was no way anyone could refuse.

I inhaled sharply when the man took a step towards me. Instinctively, I backed up a step. He looked pained, then, and I realized that he was about to tell me that I wasn't welcome here. A lunatic wasn't welcome anywhere, no matter how hospitable the host. I remembered him being a kind boy, the sort that would never leave a stranded man to fend for himself. He couldn't have changed much in these long years. He had helped me only because he felt it would be dishonorable to do otherwise. Perhaps he had even done it as a token of our past friendship. I closed my eyes - squeezed them shut - in anticipation of his rejection. Whatever inner peace I had attained in the past few minutes was shattered.

Without warning, my knees gave out and I tumbled to the ground. Tears were stinging my eyes and blurring my vision. Why had he saved me? What was the point if I wasn't needed anywhere? My useless hands came up to cover my ears - a pathetic attempt at blocking out the harsh words I was sure would come too soon. My breathing was becoming more erratic by the second. I knew I was on the verge of having a panic attack, but I was helpless to stop it.

“P-Please…” I begged. “Please don't…” Don't throw me out. “I swear I'll do anything.” I could work as a servant. I could clean and wash clothes. I could do many things, if it meant holding on to some sort of place in his world. Hadn't I decided that he was the only thing that I had left to live for? Would he be stripped from me as my freedom had been back in my world? I didn't want to consider it. I didn't want to even theorize about it. I wanted to go somewhere far away from here, back to that field, where I wasn't myself but a part of everything.

“Hitomi…” I was snapped out of my panic momentarily when he wrapped his arms around my huddled form. He was so much bigger than I remembered. His shape blotted out the sun; his scent overpowered my terror. For a moment, I was too scared to move. I was afraid that this moment could shatter at any second. I smelled war on him. There was the musky smell of sweat, the heady smell of horses, and the distinct smell of blood and adrenaline. “Forgive us…” he said slowly. Abruptly, he released me and I saw his eyes again. That pain was still there. Obviously, he felt a great regret at having to cast me away. Frantic, I dug my nails into the crevices between the plates of his armor, my nails scraping against leather and chain mail.

“I'll do anything…just don't…p-please…” My voice was barely above a whisper but my plea echoed between us as a voice across a canyon. I wondered if that's how deep the space between us was. Were we canyons apart now? Was understanding something we could never again experience? Those mystical eyes of his were untapped pools of sorrow - even now they made me want to shelter him from any harm. Just as I had done all those years ago, I wanted to tell him that I would always be here, that I would never leave. But that would be useless - since it was he that wanted me to go. He seemed to be at a loss for words. Was he thinking how to best phrase his denial of me?

But then he did something unexpected. He took my wrist gently in one hand and brought his lips to the ugly, red, bloom that soiled the bandage there. To see his beautiful lips touching something so terrible and dirty made my heart ache. I realized that to be next to him would mean sullying his purity. In that moment, he truly was an angel to me. An angel kneeling before a mortal was blasphemy; I wanted nothing to do with it. Again, I shut my eyes. I turned my face away in shame. At some point, my breathing had returned to normal. He forced my face back to look at him; how could I explain that doing so was painful beyond reason?

“Do not turn away from us,” he commanded huskily. His fingers were hot against my skin. My lips trembled, my limbs felt weak. “Do not fear us. We will allow nothing to hurt you ever again. This, we swear.” With that solemn vow in place, he moved forward and pressed his mouth to mine. It was no chaste kiss; it was much more than a way to seal his oath; it was incredible and unforgettable. I had been lost so long without water in the desert, that when I finally found the sustenance that was his lips, I drank my fill and more. Though I knew that I didn't deserve a single ounce of it, I let myself drink deeply of his strength; I let myself imagine, for a moment, that he felt something for me - that we both shared a bond that transcended space and time. As all things do, our blissful moment ended. He pulled away first, and I saw with some surprise that he was just as breathless as I was.

“Van,” I whispered reverently. I suddenly wasn't certain of my earlier assumptions. Would a man who kissed a woman like that really want to send her away? I wondered what sort of expression was on my face. At that moment, my skin was numb everywhere except the places where his hands gripped my shoulders. I felt his breath fanning my cheeks - it was warm, almost hot. How cruel, that I should feel this close to him yet be so far away. When I could find my voice again, I spoke -

“Please don't send me away,” I begged. Just gripping his clothing was no longer enough. I threw my arms around him and crashed into him, wanting nothing more than to be absorbed. I didn't care that his armor was cold and hard against my skin. I didn't feel the jarring blow to the side of my face when I pressed myself against him. All I knew was that I wasn't letting go. There was utter silence for a moment before his arms enveloped me. His gloved fingers dug into my hair. He took a deep breath and I felt his large body shudder. Was he disgusted with me? I probably looked pathetic in his eyes.

“How could you think such things?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “When we have thought of nothing but this day since the moment that you flew away from us?”