#'i am currently and unexpectedly being attacked' safety measure

[besnouted]

like we have firearms in our house and a potentially violent neighbor who has already vandalized our property and put our animals in danger. do you know how safe those guns make me feel? not at all. on the other hand, do you know how i feel knowing our neighbor who is physically closer to us is aware of the situation and willing to watch out for us? who i know we could go to in the case of a worst case emergency at any hour of the day??? a lot fucking safer lmao

[oliverwvvd]

the devil in me, part ii

Back to writing these two, inevitably, at long last. This is for the lovely anon who dropped by and mentioned this one, despite it having been years since the last post. This is slightly trigger heavy, so sorry if the triggers contain spoilers, but people's mental health comes first so they can choose whether or not to engage with the content.

This is part of a series. You can find part one here.

pairing: Marcus Flint x Oliver Wood

premise: When Marcus wakes again in the endless white of St Mungo's, Oliver is still there, and his wand is still gone. Marcus thinks it's about debts owed, or at least, that's what he's trying to tell himself. Whatever other reasons might keep Oliver Wood at his bedside aren't remotely within a framework he's equipped to handle. [possible triggers: severe PTSD, hospitals, battle situations, Legilimency, implied invasion of the mind, implied intention not to survive]

When he wakes, one needle is back in his arm and Marcus’ first inclination is to be pissed off about it. Of course it is. Being angry is the best alternative, sublimation for all of the other emotions he should be feeling and isn’t. He doesn’t need any St Mungo’s trained therapist to tell him about that, mainly because it’s deliberate on his part.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters. “I don’t want painkiller withdrawal on top of everything else. The dosage has to be sky-high for me not to be feeling anything.”

“So you’d rather have the searing amount of pain that makes you pass out within minutes instead? You’re right; being a masochist is a much better idea.”

He closes his eyes. “Why are you still here, again?”

“Waiting for you to take your head out of your arse, though it seems I’ll be in for a long wait.” The tart rejoinder in a lovely, rolling Scottish brogue that he instinctively wants to wrap himself in doesn’t help his temper. Neither does the fact that Oliver is still too earnest despite the familiar barb in the words, as though he thinks he owes Marcus something. The stubborn set to his jaw is familiar too, viewed more than once when facing him on a Quidditch pitch.

It makes Marcus want to push him away for his own safety, because don’t you know what I am? Instead, his gaze is sulky, as though he’s a teenager again in a way he hasn’t been in years, and it’s solely fixed on Oliver. “I don’t like you, and I don’t want you here,” he says, and if that’s not the biggest lie he’s told in the past couple of years, he’s not entirely sure what is.

Oliver shrugs. “That’s too bad, Flint, because I’m not going anywhere.” He’s wearing a poloneck jumper, just like he used to at school when it got to winter weekends out of uniform, and Marcus has the fleeting, horrifying thought that maybe it covers bruises or worse. A second thought just as horrifying resurfaces: he still doesn’t have his wand.

That thought makes him abruptly change the subject. “Alright, Wood, since you’re here, be a good boy and tell me why I don’t have my wand.” It’s not a question. He doesn’t phrase it as one. To punctuate it and make it clear he’s not asking, Marcus opts to verbally twist the knife for good measure. “You owe me. That’s why you’re here, right? To settle the debt. So start talking.” That’s not a question either, because why else Oliver might be there is more than he can possibly handle getting into.

Oliver’s (Wood’s, damn it) expression darkens momentarily, as though he’s about to pick a fight. Marcus wants him to, because at least that would be normal, but he sees it the moment that Oliver registers he’s in a hospital bed all over again, sees the way his gaze turns pained and then the shutters draw closed again so he’s at a loss for what the other is thinking. He doesn’t like it. Oliver was always an open book, no filter, no love lost on his side of the equation. He doesn’t know what this new thing is.

He clears his throat brusquely. “Well?”

Oliver sighs. “They’re concerned about your mental state as well. That’s why you don’t have your wand. They thought you might try something you’d regret.”

Fury is, of course, the quickest and most reliable reaction. “So they thought they’d improve things by taking away the only piece of autonomy I had available to me for months? That’s genius thinking, that is. Who do I need to see to recommend them for promotion?”

Oliver’s lips twitch briefly then, clearly catching the sarcasm, but at the same time seemingly unable to smile at it. That’s fine, because it’s not funny at all.

Marcus exhales a sharp sigh, one that’s less exasperated by this point than unimpressed. “I suppose they thought I’d curse the whole place down, eh?” This time, it is a question, and the smile that goes with it isn’t genuine, it’s mean and sharp-edged. It’s an echo of all the ugly things that have stained his hands and his mind, and it occurs to him that throughout that, Oliver has been the only good thing, a pure thing he’d constructed for himself, a secret he kept that was sometimes the only reason he didn’t give in altogether. Now that’s done and it’s back to reality.

To his consternation, Oliver shakes his head, as though he can sense what Marcus is thinking. “No one believes that after the battle. You threw yourself in the way of someone that would have been dead if you hadn’t, without knowing whether you’d survive.” The words seemed hard for Oliver to speak, as though it was like a demon lived in his throat for as long as they sat there. “They didn’t know if you were going to pull through, the first couple of days.”

An eye-roll is Marcus’ first response to that, and he averts his gaze from Oliver then. “That was sort of the bloody point, Wood.” The words fall heavily in the room between them, but this time it’s not out of malice, it’s from defeat, an admission that he should have kept to himself. The anger hasn’t emptied its well yet, but for the time being, it’s quiet, a savage thing made somnolent again by the fact that he can feel the needle in his arm start to pour more potion into him. Presumably, it’s going to knock him out eventually.

Oliver’s own exhale is shaken, as though Marcus has punched him square in the solar plexus and it hurts, badly. After all these months of silence, it’s as though the casually cruel words aiming to drive him away are doing more damage than even the war has managed to. “Flint, you can’t just…”

Marcus wants to sit up again but the potion, damn it, feels like it’s got him pinned in place. That makes him edgy, makes him feel the cold sweat of panic beginning to prick, and he absolutely will not have a panic attack of any kind in front of an audience. He swallows hard, and Oliver seems unable to finish the sentence. It hangs there between them, unfinished.

That’s the moment that the door creaks open and the healer walks in, oblivious to the conversation that had been happening beforehand. Oliver leans back in the chair beside Marcus’ bed.

Marcus’ lip curls just slightly. “Come to check I’m still breathing?” he asks snidely. “Sorry to disappoint. You can go now, your duty is done.”

The healer does no such thing. “I’d hoped you’d be asleep by now,” he says with a tsk tsk sound that reminds Marcus of the teachers from school whenever he didn’t do his homework correctly. It does nothing to endear the man to him at all. “Evidently we need to increase your dosage. You shouldn’t have ripped those needles out of your arm as soon as you did, but Mr Wood tells me you have a remarkably high tolerance for pain.”

That causes Marcus’ gaze to narrow in Oliver’s direction, and it’s as accusing as it gets.

Oliver, to his credit (the little of it that Marcus is currently willing to give) doesn’t look away. “I’ve been in the Hospital Wing with you multiple times,” is the reminder that unexpectedly arrives, softer than he’s ever deserved. “You never took your painkillers. You always cast Evanesco.”

On the one hand, Marcus’ glare only intensifies, because Oliver’s just ratted him out to the healer. On the other, what does it even mean that Oliver remembers; how there seems to be something dark and sad behind his gaze ever since a few minutes ago. It doesn’t correlate with his real life knowledge of Wood, only the fantasy version he constructed in his head to have a reason to go on, and Marcus is fully aware of how incredibly unhealthy that was and is.

It’s only the healer’s voice that interrupts their charged stare, clearly ready to go for another lecture. “Well, there will be no hiding painkillers here. What were you thinking, taking those out? Did you just not realise the degree of damage you took?” It isn’t an indignant pair of questions, instead asked with the tone of someone who wants to understand the subject they are studying. It presses all of the wrong buttons for Marcus, and he endures it in silence until he can’t.

This is the moment he snaps. But it isn’t like every other time he’s lost his temper. No, this is different; his voice is surprisingly quiet and unsteady when he speaks. “Why does everyone want to know what I’m thinking suddenly? I’ve just spent the last two years having my mind pulled apart at a moment’s notice. All that I want is for everyone to stop trying to get into my head because I don’t want anyone in there ever again. Got it? It’s none of your business what I’m thinking.”

Dimly, he registers that Oliver has gone pale as he starts to understand what Marcus means. The healer looks appalled, because evidently, this was something undetectable while he was unconscious, and he’s beyond lashing out, because this has hit places he doesn’t want to go.

“Get out.” The words are quieter still, and there’s a flat, dulled down, deadly note to them.

Even half-conscious on a bed, drugged by the potion, it leaves to question what Marcus is capable of, the one thing no one has dared to think about so far. It’s a weak threat, but his voice carries all of it, like it’s every atom of a star at the moment of destruction.

The healer leaves. Oliver doesn’t, because Oliver hasn’t learned to be afraid of him, even though he should have.

When Marcus looks at him again, he thinks that he sees Oliver flinch, just a little around the eyes, and he knows he’s going to say something unforgivable if he isn’t left alone. “I meant you as well.” The words are empty. You need to go before I do any more things that I regret, and I can’t live with any more.

Oliver doesn’t listen. Instead, he does something that Marcus can handle even less. He climbs onto the bed and rests there next to him, close enough for Marcus to feel him breathe. “You’re really not a good listener, Flint. I already told you. I’m not leaving.”

Marcus’ hands suddenly feel too heavy, utterly ineffectual when he tries to raise them to push Wood right off the bed. Land on his arse. That’ll show him. Instead, his head starts to nod forward, and Oliver, the scheming bastard, must have known that the potion would take effect soon, had kept him talking until he had no choice but to go back to sleep again.

He’s so angry. He’s exhausted. He’s repeating the same cycle, inescapable, stuck on a loop of his own making. There’s wool against his face, something warm against his back. Oliver’s voice is there, he can feel it rumble in his chest, but the words don’t even register. It’s a warm sound, like copper and firelight, and it’s the last thing in his dwindling awareness before the world is lost altogether.

The frightening part is that he’s starting to want to wake up again. 

That wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

[heavenlydragon]

Part 2: The First Among the Knights

Go to: PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4

Authors’ Notes: This is an English translation of the first chapter of Vol 4 of the Escaflowne NewType Novels, affectionately called “the Marlene Chapter”. Translation was done by Fayrinferno and scanning/beta reading/editing was done by Pikafwance (Escaflowme).  Please note that the chapter will be posted in four parts between Escaflowme and Heavenlydragon. Please enjoy our hard work!

“It’s good to attend these kind of events from time to time,” King Aston’s younger brother, Nueva [1], said as he raised his arm in a gold-embroidered tunic sleeve and gestured to the stadium below. Marlene’s uncle, sitting in the center of the honored guests area, relaxed and dressed in a loose-fitting garb, leaned his well-built body forward. His glossy face shone with entertainment as he watched the knights get out of formation and scatter at the end of the opening ceremony.

“Yes, thank you so much, Lord Nueva,” Marlene nodded and smiled, seeing nothing of the knights from behind Nueva’s large, round back.

The weather was clear again, today.

In truth, Nueva had become worried about Marlene’s withdrawn behavior recently and took it upon himself to take his niece out to the central stadium to see the Great Martial Arts Tournament.

...Not that it improved Marlene’s mood at all. Marlene simply had no interest in martial arts from the start. Rumours of war reached her ears from foreign countries, but her home country had been peaceful for a long time, so she did not feel the necessity of martial arts in her immediate vicinity. The never-ending rivalry between the countries, however, had made it so this so-called Great Tournament never quite became just a formality. Moreover, because bloody scenes were sometimes unavoidable, Marlene usually kept away from these types of events. What reason would she have to come here, if it wasn’t for her kind uncle, and to dispel his worries?

Maybe I should not have come after all…

The colorful garments of the knights coming and going to the field added a gorgeous flare to the gleam of their sword and spear blades. Tension before the battle and strange exaltation filled the air. It was transmitted to the watching people as well, as the audience became more and more excited.

But Marlene watched this, unaffected.

Taking a measured breath, she pointed her indifferent look at nothing in particular. The late-morning sun gave sharp shadows to everything it reached, and the illuminated field stood out as if white.

The packed stadium stirred unanimously, transfixed. Seemingly none wanted to miss any of the starting matches. The knights waited for their names to be called, standing further away from the square drawn in a white line in the centre of the stadium.

“Look, Marlene,” Nueva suddenly turned back to her. “Everyone is in high spirits because they can see this. It may be a great tournament today!”

“It is entertaining, isn’t it?” Marlene said, smiling at her uncle.

Nueva nodded in good spirits, stood up and lifted one hand: “Let us begin! Knights, show the skills worthy of that name, sharpened by regular training, and seize the honor of victory!” After saying this, Nueva motioned towards Marlene. “As a sign of honor, appreciation will be given by the First Princess!” Oh, what a commotion that stirred among the knights and in the audience as well. Although she sighed inwardly, on account of her uncle’s behalf, Marlene gave smiles in all directions. “Hohoho,” laughing in a strong voice and lowering his sizeable body, Nueva gently clapped Marlene’s shoulder. “My Princess, how reliable our people are!”

“Indeed,” Marlene nodded, honestly this time.

The first lesson of a princess was that the country was its people. A monarch must be judged foremost by their prosperity and safety. Whether she liked it or not, Marlene could never forget the lessons she was taught.

At the high-pitched sound of the trumpets, the knights stepped forward. One had a black armor with red tassels, the other wore an emerald-green cloak. His armor was silver. After saluting in their direction, their running attendants provided them long-handled lances. From this point, Marlene lost interest in the scene. “Hohou!” looking at the entertained face of her uncle, Marlene’s mind roamed. The shrill sound of weapons crashing and the commotions of the crowds did not matter to her. This way, time passed without doing anything, without anything happening. She watched mindlessly as the cup of liquid before her threw shadows like stained glass in the sunlight.

I wonder if I will succeed this country…

Even upon hearing the screams of awe, Marlene did not once lift her head.

Who will father choose to rule the country with me? The current king, Aston, only had three daughters, and no male heir. In a rare situation such as this one, the royal consort would be chosen to rule first. Otherwise, if left unwed, Asturia would be left to one of its three princesses.

Whichever the case, it would likely fall onto the shoulders of the eldest daughter, Marlene.

Then, who could father possibly choose?!

Without really looking, her gaze dropped at the field. The two riding knights were clashing their lances. Both of them rough and red-faced strong men, closer to a bear rather than human in appearance.

With a small sigh, Marlene turned her gaze away.

King Aston had probably already made the decision about her husband.

Another country’s royal to strengthen the relations, or possibly a domestic noble or knight?

For me, it’s all the same… Marlene thought disinterestedly, as if this was somebody else’s affair.

It was natural that her father would choose her groom, and besides, she didn’t have any particular preference herself in that regard.

But…

Watching the knights’ dazzling colors, Marlene’s mouth parted slightly.

If love appeared in my life… She knew it only from books and legends, and sometimes from the talk of the handmaidens, but that did not mean she was not interested in it at all.

Love’s beginning was meeting the destined partner...

Love made one weak, crazy, and even miserable...

Love could only be found in a beloved person’s eye, heard only in their voice...

Love made one beautiful, but also foolish...

It was full of such contradiction, but people could not help but lose themselves in its sweetness.

Could there really be such a thing in this world?

Laughing unexpectedly, she shook her head.

It had to be a drop of a rare liquor given to people by the gods on a whim.

Marlene started to even forget such a thing existed. Though even as she made up her mind about it, her uninterested self felt a sense of pity.

Or perhaps it will happen with the person father chooses...

Marlene pondered the topic while sipping at her drink, occasionally nodding when Nueva made an appreciative sound. Before she knew it, the sun crossed the horizon and shadows covered the white-reflecting field.

The sky remained cloudless as usual. Reflecting the battle of the knights, the excitement of the audience came and went like waves.

Marlene started to contemplate if it wouldn’t have been better to lose herself to the soft cushions and refuse the invitation altogether with some made-up excuse.

And then…

“Oh!” A remarkably huge cheer sounded in unison with Nueva’s raised voice, and Marlene returned to herself.

“Hohho! Hohho!”

From the ruddy profile of her still cheering uncle, Marlene moved her gaze to the field.

Everybody seemed to have held their breath as silence fell on the scene.

Something shone against the sky. In a moment, it became a sword, drawing a large arch before it pierced the ground near the white line.

On the opposite side of the square, another thing shone brightly. Marlene blinked and realized it was long golden hair with widening eyes.

Strands of hair fluttered in the wind as the knight, dressed in a simple blue garb, turned in fluid motion and sheathed his sword. His opponent stood still in shock, holding at his right arm. The referee lifted his arm towards the knight as the cheers burst out across the stadium.

“What exquisite skill,” Nueva’s features relaxed as he clapped his hands.

Who’s that?

“Victory is yours,” Marlene murmured unconsciously. The tall knight crossed the field, walking in Marlene’s direction. His long straight hair shone visibly, the blue coat and crisp white shirt dazzled the eye. Suddenly attacked by a tightly gripping feeling in her chest, Marlene bit her tightly-pressed lips.

The face of the approaching knight became backlit and Marlene had to squint her eyes to make out his features. A slightly slender face with nicely shaped jaw, surprisingly muscled neck, and tightly pulled lips were revealed by the shadows.

By the time the knight’s handsome features were revealed to Marlene’s eyes, he had reached the front on noble guest seats and got down on one knee to receive the knight’s honor.

“Hoho, masterful technique, worthy of the reputation of one of the Asturia’s chivalric order. That certainly pleased my eye. Splendid, Allen Schezar.”

Allen Schezar.

Marlene repeated the name. The stir in her chest was subsiding. “I am deeply honoured by the compliment.” A slightly lowered, but strong and carrying voice reached Marlene’s ears. As he said it, Marlene glimpsed the rising knight’s face and her breath caught.

Clear, incredibly deep blue pierced stubbornly through the fluttering shadow of pale-golden eyelashes. Transfixed, Marlene felt as if the knight's unwavering gaze filled her entire being. From her tightened chest, something swelled up in the back of her throat, making her unconsciously squeeze her hands in front of her breast.

Allen Schezar.

She continued to watch him as she could not tear her eyes away. While Allen’s eyes did not remain on her, a quick glance passed her before dropping back to his feet.

Without noticing anything, Allen bowed again and stood up with a blank look on his face.

The first among Asturia’s knights.

A fitting title for you, Marlene thought as she kept her eyes on the knight. She felt like she had never before seen such personality and nobility in a knight before. The sunlight in the hair of the retreating knight still dazzled the eye.

“Isn’t it truly remarkable for someone so young?” Momentarily lost, Marlene immediately returned to herself and turned back to her uncle. Nueva faced her with a satisfied smile. “Having such a skilled young knight, we may need not worry about the future and peace of our homeland. Promising, truly promising, that one.”

“Yes,” Marlene nodded with a serious face.

“We have many skilled knights in the land, but this one is truly exceptional.”

“Uncle, where does that knight come from?” Marlene asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Nueva nodded with a grin.

“Oh, it’s no wonder that you don’t recognize him. That’s the heir of the Schezar family.” Marlene tilted her neck a bit.

“The Schezar family, isn’t it a prestigious clan that held the position among the Heavenly Knights?”

“That’s true, but…” Nueva paused as stern expression settled on his narrowed eyes, “there was a certain issue with the previous head of the family, the boy’s father.”

Knowing it was probably useless to ask, Marlene waited to see what else her uncle would share.

“In the absence of the knight himself, and in neglect of the duties of a Heavenly Knight, the chivalric order stripped him of the title.” So it seemed that Allen’s father had disappeared. Marlene recalled his cold expression from not too long ago [2].

“But the son, though still very young, returned after a rigorous training somewhere, or so I heard”.

Nueva smiled softly again. “No no, it’s truly a splendid thing, really. Now the Schezar family need not worry anymore. Perhaps the title of Knight of Heaven, should none be against it, will be recognized as an inheritance for this fellow.”

Marlene nodded as her eyes sought out the small retreating figure of Allen. “I look forward to see what work he has yet to show us,” Nueva said, seeing Allen off together with her.

“Indeed,” Marlene said, agreeing from the bottom of her heart. Before disappearing into the darkness of the stadium’s side entrance, there was a quick glimmer of golden hair. For a moment, Marlene felt him clearly watching her. This time, the deep blue eyes caught Marlene’s directly. It may have been less than a second, but it recaptured Marlene completely. From her unblinking sight, the figure in blue and gold disappeared momentarily, leaving her behind.

The sound of the trumpet was shrill. Marlene dazedly looked around, as if in a dream.

The knights had lined up in the white field to participate in another round of the tournament.

The audience rippled like a wave and the vibrant colors of the knights were fading. Marlene slowly turned her head around, taking in a deep breath. The brilliant light was diminishing, giving way to the bottomless dark blue. The passing wind brought the scent of dry grass to Marlene. At the rising awed screams, her gaze returned to the field. The multicolored armor decorations of the knights, the shine of the glistening blades and clouds of dust kicked by the colliding knights... The vibrancy of the scene, not really different from before, finally reached Marlene’s eyes.

Something changed.

Something is different.

She placed both hands on her chest to make sure, clutching, as if not letting it escape. With each and every breath, she was reassured again.

I am alive, Marlene told herself. It was the first time she realized that.

A twinge of pain filled her chest, as if in reply.

Marlene took another deep breath.

The air was cool and dry. It refreshed Marlene's throat and smelt sweetly as it entered her chest.

It was soon after that Allen became a Knight of Heaven.

Knight of Heaven.

That title was given only to the twelve most excellent, most honorable knights of the country. The twelve were each given a powerful guymelef and it was their sworn duty as guardians and honorable warriors to protect the kingdom.

Initially, they used to be picked by the ancient kings themselves, but recently it has become a clan system, so that almost all the positions were filled through inheritance by the major families.

It was also the case of the Schezar family, with the temporary absence caused by the misconduct of the previous generation, before Allen managed to recover the position. Once a prestigious house, the name of the Schezar family was all but ruined, and among the clans who inherited the title of the Heavenly Knight, many were unwilling to accept Allen’s reinstatement.

“Must be jealousy,” Ditoa sighed, tilting her head as Marlene brought up the topic. “After all, becoming a Knight of Heaven, and the honor that comes with it is something extraordinary. Anyone who calls himself a knight would like to hold that title one day. If you acquire the power of one of those twelve guardian melefs, there probably won’t be a strong enough enemy for you anywhere.” Having seen the guymelefs in question, Marlene nodded, understanding Ditoa’s point. “If you thought there was an opportunity for you, and suddenly that became impossible, that can also cause frustration.”

“The clans already holding the title have no reason to say that,” Marlene said, frowning.

“Those who already have something often desire more,” Ditoa shrugged. “Such is the way of life,” she said smiling at Marlene, “But for someone who was raised as a noble like Your Highness, it is hard to understand such lowly way of thinking. Looking at it from your side, it must look shameful.” Ditoa placed the vase full of freshly-cut flowers on the windowsill. “And it’s not like property alone would get you to that position. We should not forget about that.”

“Right?!” Marlene surprised even herself with her excited exclamation and hurried to shut her mouth.

“Ho ho ho, as always, Her Highness is concerned about the peace in our country. It’s alright, all the twelve Knights of Heaven are strong enough after all!” Ditoa nodded approvingly to convince her and put the gardening scissors away in the basket.

Marlene recalled the faces of the men holding that title into mind.

Galleison, Widgate, Narcy…[3]

All holding ministerial positions, all middle-aged or older. All of them skilled, war-weathered veterans. There is no other youth like Allen among them.

Still…

Marlene smiled unconsciously.

The one who fits the title best, is still him…

“Oh? What I said seemed to have eased your mind, Your Highness!”

“Yes, really.” Turning around, Marlene smiled brightly, and Ditoa narrowed her eyes a little. Neither Marlene nor Ditoa herself realized there was a hint of worry in that expression.

Allen Schezar.

Just repeating that name caused a strange inner turmoil in Marlene’s chest. Why was it that each time his name was brought up, a strange pain shot through her heart?

But Marlene did not consider the painful sweetness that came again and again as cruel. Rather, the pain got deeper, and yet, the thought of losing it became almost unbearable. Why was her heart so affected after seeing him only once, and  why did he occupy her mind no matter what she did? She could not find the answer.

If we meet again…

What would happen to that pain?

Would it torment her even more, or would it disappear with no meaning?

Whether she did not want to lose it or wanted it to end, both options led her mind astray. Before coming to that decision, Marlene wanted to know more about Allen. Then she may be able to understand this strange sensation.

No.

Marlene stretched her neck to look out of the window. The low afternoon sun painted the sky pale blue, throwing the shadows of a few passing birds on the ground.

What can be seen by just looking at the surface?

She only knew of his family standing, his reputation as an excellent swordsman [4] and the various rumours that Allen, same as Marlene, could not really help. Allen seen through the eyes of someone else bore no meaning to Marlene now. Even if she didn’t hear anything about him at all, she would know. She would recognize a vile person at glance.

Even though it’s been said that looks can be deceiving, the character or true nature still found ways to manifest in the appearance somehow. Especially with an upbringing such as Marlene’s, it had often proved difficult for an adversary to deceive her. Even at a glance, she was confident in her judgement.

She already knew what people were saying.

But there was far more to know.

And she wanted to know.

The more she thought about it, the more the need to know perplexed her.

If I meet him again, I’m sure I’ll understand…

As she thought that, she smiled broadly.

I want to meet him.

As abrupt as it came, her bright expression disappeared from her face again.

But…

Once we meet, this sweet pain may disappear. And she would return to those listless, tiresome days again.

Marlene feared that a little.

If that happened, it would be better to stay like this, even if just for that rush of being alive.

Then, what in the world should I do? Marlene asked herself, a bit frustrated.

This indecisiveness was strange for her. For Marlene, born and raised as the first daughter of a royal family, ambiguity was not an option.

Things were always black or white, and the idea of leaving things undecided (or Jeture forbid, considering something gray) was generally unacceptable. Until now, nothing was indeterminate. As a true princess, she would do anything to get out of such uncertainty as soon as possible and would have made the decision a long time ago.

Instead…

Marlene, for some reason, had a hunch that this situation might go on for a long time. It felt as if she discovered a new self she had not recognized until now. Without her knowing, another Marlene existed, one who was not a princess.

It’s just my personal problem…

It’s nobody else’s concern. Even if I’m confused by this, nobody else need be troubled by this. Even with this reassurance, Marlene already knew things would not stay like this forever.

And the chance to meet again came up unexpectedly early.

Allen eventually came to Palas to serve as the royal palace guard. Needless to say, it was a result of Marlene's clever planning [5]. At his inauguration ceremony, Allen stepped before king Aston, looking far more refined than Marlene had imagined.

“You’re the heir of Schezars.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” kneeling Allen’s head rose at the words. At the sight of the serious, yet faintly flushed expression on Allen’s pale face, the corners of King Aston’s cheeks rose slightly.

“I expect good work from you, worthy of the name of the Knight Caeli.”

“I am prepared to lay down my life in the line of duty,” Allen said, looking straight at Aston. His gaze did not even brush Marlene at the side of the king. Yet Marlene’s chest still throbbed at his mere presence. The feeling for him was so vexing, she wondered if she would be able to stand looking into his eyes face-to-face.

As he looked down at Allen, a shade of pity crossed Aston’s eyes. “The prosperity of your house also depends on your earnest service. Work hard and valiantly.”

“I will.” Marlene did not miss the bitter look that passed Allen’s face during Aston’s speech.

There was no need to say that, Marlene thought, sad at the thorns in her father’s words.

As if he had heard her thoughts, Allen’s  eyes met Marlene’s for a fleeting moment.

“Very well, off to your duty now.”

“I’ll take my leave then.”

Before she could open her mouth, Allen turned around like wind, his cloak floating behind him.

“Hm, surely, that is one smart youth,” King Aston said stroking his chin as he watched Allen’s back. “If he does not make a mistake, he may very well rise high.”

“Father?” Aston’s features relaxed as he looked back at Marlene. “I called him because you wanted, but it seems he is indeed a good man to be stationed nearby.”

“I hear he is a very skilled knight,” Marlene said, smiling. “I heard some horrible stories of nighttime robberies recently, and felt nervous and unsafe. That is why I asked to strengthen the guard.”

“Hohohoo, really?” Aston tapped her shoulder lightly. “Is this enough relief for you then? Anyway, I would not have anyone so much as lay a finger upon you three.”

“I know your heart, Father,” Marlene said, but half of her own heart was already elsewhere.

Because just a while ago, their eyes met.

It wasn’t a dream.

Even if she smiled bitterly, deep down, she was a bit relieved.

With her thoughts of him becoming so inflated, her belief that such a person even existed in this world started to waver.

Even though it was surely impossible...

Once more, Marlene trusted her own judgement of people.

Looks like I was not wrong.

Marlene thought a bit proudly.

Allen’s nobility, deep prudence and youthful innocence she glimpsed were all appealing to her eye. She could not say what Allen’s own feelings towards Marlene were, but at least, there was no hatred or disgust in his eyes.

Marlene left the hall, with a small tinge of anxiety and the sweet pain still grasping her heart.

——————

[1]  ヌエバ 

[2] This may not necessarily mean that Leon held the title of Knight Caeli for some time while he was younger. Later, Marlene says that the order consists of middle-aged or older men, which is why it could be that Leon’s predecessor held the title until old age and Leon left his family at about the same time as he was supposed to accept the title and responsibilities.

[3]  ガレイソン、ウィダゲート、ナルシ

[4]  The text just mentions Allen’s reputation. But at this point, it does not have anything to do with his ladykiller image or other things he became known for later.

[5]  It is not exactly clear in what way Marlene schemed to meet with Allen again. Based on what is said later in the chapter, she probably referred him to King Aston, who later picked him for the Palace Guard or just requested more guards for the castle and Allen was chosen. The decision to accept him into the order seemed to be a different matter, this was rather the question of his first posting as a Knight Caeli.