AN: Hi everyone! I’m so sorry this is so late! My laptop has a virus and I’ve been in the middle of nowhere for a week… hence the delay. But to make it up to you I’m going to do my best to get the next chapter up in about three days. Sorry again… I know I’ve really been trying your patience.
Thanks so much to all the wonderful people who have left feedback, encouragement, and have nagged me into getting this written; this wouldn’t have been written without you; Michelle in Yonkers, nibbles2, urpersonaloddball, Tears_of_Mercury, paper, Natalie36, twilight, Alien614, December, omwf, begonia9508, tinie38, Timelord31, ShatteredDreamer, raemac, C&N214 and cwm_
I’m not really satisfied with this chapter but I figured I’d made you wait long enough… constructive criticism would therefore be particularly appreciated if you’re feeling generous!
Chapter 10: Teetering
Maria Deluca sat in Liz’s Mumbai apartment on the old couch that was once again slightly dusty from disuse. Kyle sat in the armchair at a right angle to her; avoiding eye contact while Liz procrastinated in the kitchen.
The years since her first trip back to the hospital to see Alex had been much kinder to Maria than to her companions. Her eyes had lost some of the haunted quality they had contained, her skin was no longer sallow, her body was lithe rather than skeletal and her hair had been allowed to grow out of its severe crew cut, falling to just below her ears. But though she now seemed healthier and less haunted, there was none of the star quality of the old Maria about her… none of the unconscious brilliance and vivacity that had turned heads long ago. Moreover there was still a certain battle-hardened quality about her that Maria-the-star had never had any claim to.
Her companion had fared a little worse in the intervening years. The ever ready sense of humor, that had for so long been an integral part of his character, seemed stomped out of him now; to be replaced with a knowledge he would rather be without… that came at too high a price. His eyes said they had seen too much. His body was much the same… perhaps a little more toned from years more fighting, a little more tense from years of being constantly ready for battle and a little more scarred as evidence that he was not the invincible warrior he had once thought himself.
Their companion had perhaps fared worst of all three in the intervening years. She had outlived her entire unit and as a consequence seemed to have lost a part of herself. There was a coldness about her now that was entirely unfamiliar, and there was a recklessness and daring in her choices and behavior that only those who feel they have nothing left to loose ever acquire.
Finally Liz exited the kitchen with two cups of coffee that she placed before her companions before wearily lowering herself into the seat across from Maria.
Even now this felt all too incomplete. The seat across from Kyle was conspicuously empty. Perhaps this was why they came together so infrequently now. In some way they were all still running from Alex’s ghost.
Liz tugged at the neck of her black polo. Maria could tell she felt trapped, as if someone had her around the neck… that movement had nothing to do with the polo neck. She nervously tapped her boot; she was more sure than ever that this wasn’t a social call as Liz had claimed. Neither of them had bought into that lie and Liz knew it.
Liz abruptly broke the uncomfortable silence.
“I’m getting married.” She said matter-of-factly.
-----------------------------
“I’m getting married.” Max told Michael and Isabel.
“What?” Isabel asked with an almost-laugh of disbelief, like she was almost sure she’d heard wrong.
“I’m getting married.” He repeated.
“You can’t be serious Max!” She said, looking at Michael for support. She would get no help from him however. He sat in grim silence searching Max’s face with piercing eyes.
“I’m completely serious Iz.” Max replied tiredly.
“But…” She sputtered, “when… when did this happen? Who to? Why?”
Max looked down at his hands. This was harder than he’d thought it would be. It was as if telling them made it real… and that was too terrifying to contemplate at the moment. He fought to push his terror of his marriage to the back of his mind and concentrate on the task at hand. A cold feeling of uncaring calm came over him as he shut himself off from his emotions.
“Her name is Elizabeth Parker, she’s human and I’m going to marry her as part of the peace treaty we offered to Earth yesterday. The marriage will solidify the peace and allow me to be crowned. I’m killing two birds with one stone.”
His coldness seemed to rub off on Isabel, whose whole countenance seemed to acquire a frozen quality. He recognized her anger, always expressed with this characteristic frostiness and distain as it was, but wouldn’t bring himself to care.
“You offered a peace treaty?” Isabel in her low, dangerous voice. Max wasn’t intimidated.
“Yes.” He responded unfeelingly.
“Why haven’t you talked to me about any of this? Why do I find out about this treaty after the fact? I’m the princess Max! Damn it! Why do you make decisions like this for all of us?” She demanded.
“My marriage is hardly a decision for all of us to make.” He said coldly.
“It’s a decision that will have repercussions for all of us. You know very well that your subjects are not going to accept this easily… that’s going to impact all of us. And what about the fact that you are bringing a human to live in the palace? Do you even know the first thing about her?” Isabel asked; panic quickly leaking into her voice.
“In case you’ve forgotten Isabel, you’re part human as are we all.”
“I am well aware of that Max! I am well aware that my blood is the reason that thousands of Antarian lives have been lost! Have you forgotten what happened to Grandma? Have you forgotten the violence humans are capable of?” She demanded.
“Isabel stop.” Michael said quietly.
“Don’t you dare tell me what to do!” She spat and then strode out of Max’s office, her skirts billowing about her heels.
Max rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Go ahead Michael, take a few potshots, I have some time and I’d just love to hear what you think.” Max said sarcastically.
“I’m not going to criticize you.” He replied evenly.
“So you agree with my decision?” Max demanded, his tone of voice clearly indicating that this was even worse than disagreeing with it. “You think I’m right to throw myself into an arranged marriage?”
“I didn’t say that.” Michael replied.
“Well what the hell are you saying Michael, choose a damn side of the fence!” Max said angrily.
“I’m on your side.” He replied simply.
“You have a fantastic way of showing it!”
“How would you like me to show it?” Michael asked calmly.
Max was silent.
“I’m proud of you Max. You’re being a leader. I support your decisions because you’re my leader; but also because I know you and I trust your judgment. When you aren’t leading I’ll kick you in the ass… and if you need help to make a decision I’ll do my best, but now I will support you as my King.”
Max stared in silence for a while, his mutinous emotions ruling him now despite his efforts to subdue them.
“I want a friend, not another follower.” Max said.
“That’s where the help and the ass kickings come in.” Michael replied with a smile. The corner of Max’s mouth lifted slightly.
“So how about that help?” Max asked quietly, as if ashamed that he needed help.
“With what?” Michael asked, choosing to ignore Max’s embarrassment.
“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps you can start with my fuming sister and the complete shambles I’ve made of my personal life.” Max said dryly.
“Isabel just needs time to cool off. You know she doesn’t like sudden changes… but she’ll get used to it eventually. I think she’s probably most upset that you haven’t gone to her with all this. She’s lonely and she’s feeling useless because her only responsibility is to look pretty; she wasn’t built to be a wall flower.” Max nodded in understanding.
“What about the rest?” He asked and Michael perceived a hint of desperation in his voice; desperation to just have someone tell him what to do.
“The only advice I’ve got for you there Maxwell, is to find out as much about this girl as you can.”
------------------------------
Liz sat down quietly next to Alex. For a while she simply stared out of his window into the depressing grey courtyard outside. Finally she looked at her still unconscious childhood friend.
“Hey Alex.” She whispered quietly. There seemed to be something about the hospital and his state that prompted her to be carefully quiet in everything she did.
“So I haven’t visited in a while… and I thought I’d come now since I probably won’t be able to come by too often after this. I’m getting married see… to the Prince of Antar actually.” Liz looked down at Alex’s hand which she held in her own. She fiddled with his fingers for a while.
“Maria and Kyle kinda freaked out a little. I didn’t mind so much except listening to them ranting made me think about old times. It’s funny how much has changed since then.”
“You know for ages I thought that eventually, after all the fighting was over and I wasn’t so screwed up anymore, I’d get married.” She admitted, all her secrets tumbling out of her and falling onto ears that always listened, always understood, never judged… always loved. She wished he would wake up.
He didn’t, but she kept talking none the less… she couldn’t stop her torrent of words now if she tried.
“I always thought it would be Kyle. I think he thought so too. He was the only one who ever really came close to understanding before you got like this… and now Maria understands why I was like I was too well. But I’m not that Liz anymore and neither of them have followed me this far down yet.”
She pulled her chair closer and lay her head on his bed next to their hands. And for a while there was just breathing; her breathing and his, slow and quiet. And she wondered why all her life couldn’t just be about breathing like this… and she envied Alex his peace.
“Kyle and I couldn’t work now Alex.” She told him sleepily. “It’s like we were in the same place for just a little while, and we loved each other, and we sort of teetered on the edge of a romantic kind of love but never tumbled over because it just seemed inevitable… so we weren’t in any hurry. But then I got yanked into a different place and he couldn’t follow… didn’t even want to follow. So now we’re too separate to go anywhere together and I can’t get back to him and I don’t want him to be where I am… and it wouldn’t matter if we could get to each other ‘cause I’m going off to be a queen.”
“It’s funny how things work out isn’t it Alex?” She asked, before her eyes dropped closed and she drifted peacefully off to sleep.
------------------------------------
He sat at his desk staring at the front cover of the old human magazine Michael had unearthed for him. The image seemed to sear itself into his mind… her eyes…
This was the woman he was going to marry.
This little girl with the haunted eyes being carried out of the devastation that his people had caused had grown into the woman he would marry.
And those big, dark eyes continued to haunt him as he read the article about his fiancé and began to realize just how suitable a fiancé she was.
Off the Battlefield (M/L, TEEN/MATURE)Ch13 11/01/08 (WIP)
Moderators: Anniepoo98, ISLANDGIRL5, truelovepooh, Forum Moderators
Re: Off the Battlefield (AU, M/L, TEEN/MATURE)Ch9(pg13)-06/06/08
Sahara's have their centuries, ten thousand of which are smaller than a roses moment - e e cummings
Re: Off the Battlefield (AU, M/L, TEEN/MATURE)Ch10(pg4)-13/07/08
AN: Hi all! Yay… so I actually kept my promise this time! Thanks to my wonderful feed backers, you guys have been great and the debate the last chapter sparked was rather cool to read… it made me feel like a famous author with literary experts arguing over my work long after I was dead, ala Shakespeare. LOL, one can only dream.
Huge thanks to: Michelle in Yonkers, SpiderGirl, twilight, raemac, pandas2001, Tears_of_Mercury, December, tinie38, cjsl8ne, Natalie36, begonia9508, nibbles2 and Alien614.
Sorry I didn’t reply to feedback, but I’ll get to it eventually, and I thought you’d all prefer a quick update to replies.
I’m going to update ‘Snapple and Tabasco Sauce’ next, but the next chapter shouldn’t be too long in coming! Enjoy
...Mac.
Chapter 11: Dress it up any way you like
She sat alone in her quarters looking out at the stars. The view from the ship was like nothing she’d ever seen before. But the beauty of it was marred by the fact that every second brought her closer to a foreign planet… closer to a marriage she hated the thought of more and more with each passing minute. She was being pulled inexorably forward and she was helpless; in an unyielding tide that was carrying her quickly into huge, threatening, perilous rocks that she could see… though she could do nothing to save herself.
This week aboard the ship was torture.
Her father would take the shorter route and endure the pain of taking a depot disk to the portable transport bay that would be set up when their ship reached Antar. Maria and Amy had come with her, but the rest of the human wedding guests, including Kyle and Jim, would use the same route as her father. She began to think that perhaps they had the right idea.
Amy stuck her head through the door to see Liz leaning against her floor to ceiling window wearing the detached expression that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on her face.
“Liz, the dress maker’s ready for you.” She said.
“I’m coming.” Liz responded vaguely, not even turning to look at Amy. She heard the door slide shut behind her almost-mother. Her body sagged against the window and she slipped down against the glass. She clutched her calves together and pressed her eyes into her knees. Her breath hitched and she scrunched up her face and she put all her energy into not crying. She would not cry.
Her hands balled into fists, her jaw tightened and she determinedly pushed herself back onto her feet. She closed her eyes, smoothed her sweater and took a deep breath before striding out of her quarters towards the room that had been assigned to the dress maker.
In the room she found Maria sitting cross legged in an armchair watching non-plussed as the dress maker and Amy cooed over what Liz thought was her wedding dress, though she couldn’t see too well through them.
Maria, after her initial shock, had come to terms with the fact that Liz was going to marry someone she had never met, and decided it was wiser to support her friend as best she could than to advertise the fact she thought Liz out of her mind for volunteering for this position.
Liz slid herself into Maria’s seat and rested her head on Maria’s shoulder for a second before the dress maker registered her presence and Amy pulled her unceremoniously out of the chair and ordered her to strip. In all her life she had never been less inclined to wear any dress than she was to wear this one, but wear it she must, and she was accordingly forced into it.
She stood looking at herself in the mirror as Amy and the dress maker fussed with the skirt and Maria watched with heartbroken eyes from a distance.
The dress maker pinned the skirt and fussed some more and Amy made a great many joyful exclamations, but Liz heard none of it as she stood as still as the dress makers dummy looking at herself in the mirror. Finally she snapped out of it when the dress maker kindly asked her how she liked it.
“It’s lovely, thank-you, but can you please shorten the skirt, I don’t want a train… and can you take off all this beading on the bodice please, it’s just a bit too much.” She turned away from the gob-smacked dress-maker and walked to Maria, turning to allow her to unbutton the tiny satin covered buttons that ran down the back of the dress. She stepped out of it carefully, handed it to the dress-maker with a quiet “Thank-you.” and then left the room with Maria following.
-------------------------
Isabel stood as unmovable as a statue as her dress maker pinned and stitched and buttoned and tied. The fabric this woman was carefully trapping her in would be what she wore to Max’s wedding. She had never hated being dressed up so much. How naïve she had been, when her dressers had forced her into flowing Antarian garb for state suppers, to think it was impossible to hate anything more.
She was a palace decoration… beautiful Princess Isabel; hostess of palace parties, lovely guest at high profile charity balls and nothing more.
And she hated it… hated it all… hated being just a doll to dress up and a royal face for advisors to order about in order to preserve the good public image of the royal family! She hated being treated as if she had no brain. She hated that she had studied everything from mathematics to Human and Antarian history under the very best teachers, could speak four languages fluently and another two haltingly and had been awarded prizes for every single one of her subjects at their nations top university… and yet no one took her seriously. She would never be given the chance to put any of her knowledge to work. She would spend the rest of her life attending frivolous balls.
She wished her father had allowed her to join the military. At least then she would have felt as though she was some use. But he had refused, she had begged him, over and over for years and he had never relented… He had hired private instructors and allowed her to learn to fight, how to shoot with deadly precision and use every weapon (including her body) known to man.
He had merely allowed her to acquire more knowledge, more skills that would go to waste in an effort to placate her.
And Max was doing the same thing to her. He was making sure she was coddled and primped and perfectly looked after and never in any danger and never of any use but as a figurehead.
And she loved him, and she respected him, and she knew that being a King was the world’s worst job and that he didn’t want it and was making huge sacrifices for it. But knowing that didn’t make it easier to watch her own life and all her potential flying away, it didn’t make the fact that she had absolutely no control over her own destiny any easier to bear. It didn’t make the fact that she had no say in her own life; no power to change the way she lived any easier to live with.
Every decision from what she should wear and eat, to what she was going to do with the rest of her life was made for her… and knowing that her brother had to deal with perhaps more unhappiness than she did didn’t make anything easier, it just made her feel guilty and heart broken for him. It just made her all the more unhappy; all the more angry at the cards fate had dealt them.
And when the anger was unleashed on the wrong recipient their situation wasn’t made any easier.
---------------------
Jim Valenti sat opposite an extremely irate Kyle at the dinner table. Though his son said not a word, anger and hostility rolled off him in waves. He had tried to ignore it for days but at last could bear it no longer. He had thought this would pass, but it was clear it wouldn’t. All the stress and frustration of the past few weeks bubbled over.
“Kyle, would you stop acting like a petulant teenager for a single damn meal?!” He growled.
Kyle simply glared and speared a potato rather viciously with his fork.
“Do you mind informing me of what the hell has put you in this state, because you’ve been nothing but unpleasant since the minute you walked through that door, and let me tell you Kyle I’m sick of it.” Jim bit out.
“Oh you’re sick? You are sick? You make me sick!” Kyle said venomously, his fork screeching against his plate as he made another vicious stab at his food.
“Don’t take that tone with me!”
“Yes Sir!” Kyle barked sarcastically, “Of course, Sir! Anything you say, Sir! Would you like to marry me off to a despotic Antarian Sir! Sir, you can just send me off like a lamb to the slaughter.” Resentment laced Kyle’s words.
“So that’s what this is about? Liz choosing to marry an ‘Antarian Despot’?”
“Choosing…? Choosing Dad? Don’t even pretend that what she’s doing is her choice!” Kyle spat acidly.
“Liz volunteered to marry that man, she’s a big girl Kyle, and she made that decision.” He replied coldly.
“You can dress it up any way you like Dad, but that man -that thing- was not Liz’s choice. You and all your high ranking, stuffy military friends, including her own father, sold her out.” Kyle said bitterly.
With a last glare thrown at his father he calmly picked up his plate and carefully put it in the dish washer. Then he walked back past the table, completely ignoring the man who sat at it, and out of the door.
-----------------------
Max stood on that battlefield again, watching her; that incredible fighter. Once again he was mesmerized by her movements… drawn to her.
He walked forward, slowly getting closer and closer to her as she fought. As he got closer the force pulling him toward her seemed to grow stronger. He was plainly obvious now; but still she hadn’t seen him, busy as she was with her faceless opponents.
He could see the finer details of her now; the tiny beads of sweat along her hair line, the way her chest heaved as she fought… the cold fury in her eyes.
And still he was pulled towards her; fascinated.
In horror he felt his arm come up; unbidden… watched his hand grasping a gun and pointing it at her chest. She was almost close enough to touch now… so close… and he was going to kill her!
Panic rose in him; his mouth forming a silent scream as he watched his finger tightening on the trigger.
And then she looked up. He met her eyes. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe… the familiarity of them… and the cold unfamiliarity of the disinterestedness in them… was startling.
He watched as those beautiful, rich brown eyes quickly and calmly measured him up.
And then as his finger pulled the trigger she pulled a dagger from her boot. It cut through the air and hacked efficiently into his breast.
And as he fell he saw her crumpling also…
And then together they lay, bleeding on the black earth.
Max woke panting and drenched in cold sweat.
Huge thanks to: Michelle in Yonkers, SpiderGirl, twilight, raemac, pandas2001, Tears_of_Mercury, December, tinie38, cjsl8ne, Natalie36, begonia9508, nibbles2 and Alien614.
Sorry I didn’t reply to feedback, but I’ll get to it eventually, and I thought you’d all prefer a quick update to replies.
I’m going to update ‘Snapple and Tabasco Sauce’ next, but the next chapter shouldn’t be too long in coming! Enjoy
...Mac.
Chapter 11: Dress it up any way you like
She sat alone in her quarters looking out at the stars. The view from the ship was like nothing she’d ever seen before. But the beauty of it was marred by the fact that every second brought her closer to a foreign planet… closer to a marriage she hated the thought of more and more with each passing minute. She was being pulled inexorably forward and she was helpless; in an unyielding tide that was carrying her quickly into huge, threatening, perilous rocks that she could see… though she could do nothing to save herself.
This week aboard the ship was torture.
Her father would take the shorter route and endure the pain of taking a depot disk to the portable transport bay that would be set up when their ship reached Antar. Maria and Amy had come with her, but the rest of the human wedding guests, including Kyle and Jim, would use the same route as her father. She began to think that perhaps they had the right idea.
Amy stuck her head through the door to see Liz leaning against her floor to ceiling window wearing the detached expression that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on her face.
“Liz, the dress maker’s ready for you.” She said.
“I’m coming.” Liz responded vaguely, not even turning to look at Amy. She heard the door slide shut behind her almost-mother. Her body sagged against the window and she slipped down against the glass. She clutched her calves together and pressed her eyes into her knees. Her breath hitched and she scrunched up her face and she put all her energy into not crying. She would not cry.
Her hands balled into fists, her jaw tightened and she determinedly pushed herself back onto her feet. She closed her eyes, smoothed her sweater and took a deep breath before striding out of her quarters towards the room that had been assigned to the dress maker.
In the room she found Maria sitting cross legged in an armchair watching non-plussed as the dress maker and Amy cooed over what Liz thought was her wedding dress, though she couldn’t see too well through them.
Maria, after her initial shock, had come to terms with the fact that Liz was going to marry someone she had never met, and decided it was wiser to support her friend as best she could than to advertise the fact she thought Liz out of her mind for volunteering for this position.
Liz slid herself into Maria’s seat and rested her head on Maria’s shoulder for a second before the dress maker registered her presence and Amy pulled her unceremoniously out of the chair and ordered her to strip. In all her life she had never been less inclined to wear any dress than she was to wear this one, but wear it she must, and she was accordingly forced into it.
She stood looking at herself in the mirror as Amy and the dress maker fussed with the skirt and Maria watched with heartbroken eyes from a distance.
The dress maker pinned the skirt and fussed some more and Amy made a great many joyful exclamations, but Liz heard none of it as she stood as still as the dress makers dummy looking at herself in the mirror. Finally she snapped out of it when the dress maker kindly asked her how she liked it.
“It’s lovely, thank-you, but can you please shorten the skirt, I don’t want a train… and can you take off all this beading on the bodice please, it’s just a bit too much.” She turned away from the gob-smacked dress-maker and walked to Maria, turning to allow her to unbutton the tiny satin covered buttons that ran down the back of the dress. She stepped out of it carefully, handed it to the dress-maker with a quiet “Thank-you.” and then left the room with Maria following.
-------------------------
Isabel stood as unmovable as a statue as her dress maker pinned and stitched and buttoned and tied. The fabric this woman was carefully trapping her in would be what she wore to Max’s wedding. She had never hated being dressed up so much. How naïve she had been, when her dressers had forced her into flowing Antarian garb for state suppers, to think it was impossible to hate anything more.
She was a palace decoration… beautiful Princess Isabel; hostess of palace parties, lovely guest at high profile charity balls and nothing more.
And she hated it… hated it all… hated being just a doll to dress up and a royal face for advisors to order about in order to preserve the good public image of the royal family! She hated being treated as if she had no brain. She hated that she had studied everything from mathematics to Human and Antarian history under the very best teachers, could speak four languages fluently and another two haltingly and had been awarded prizes for every single one of her subjects at their nations top university… and yet no one took her seriously. She would never be given the chance to put any of her knowledge to work. She would spend the rest of her life attending frivolous balls.
She wished her father had allowed her to join the military. At least then she would have felt as though she was some use. But he had refused, she had begged him, over and over for years and he had never relented… He had hired private instructors and allowed her to learn to fight, how to shoot with deadly precision and use every weapon (including her body) known to man.
He had merely allowed her to acquire more knowledge, more skills that would go to waste in an effort to placate her.
And Max was doing the same thing to her. He was making sure she was coddled and primped and perfectly looked after and never in any danger and never of any use but as a figurehead.
And she loved him, and she respected him, and she knew that being a King was the world’s worst job and that he didn’t want it and was making huge sacrifices for it. But knowing that didn’t make it easier to watch her own life and all her potential flying away, it didn’t make the fact that she had absolutely no control over her own destiny any easier to bear. It didn’t make the fact that she had no say in her own life; no power to change the way she lived any easier to live with.
Every decision from what she should wear and eat, to what she was going to do with the rest of her life was made for her… and knowing that her brother had to deal with perhaps more unhappiness than she did didn’t make anything easier, it just made her feel guilty and heart broken for him. It just made her all the more unhappy; all the more angry at the cards fate had dealt them.
And when the anger was unleashed on the wrong recipient their situation wasn’t made any easier.
---------------------
Jim Valenti sat opposite an extremely irate Kyle at the dinner table. Though his son said not a word, anger and hostility rolled off him in waves. He had tried to ignore it for days but at last could bear it no longer. He had thought this would pass, but it was clear it wouldn’t. All the stress and frustration of the past few weeks bubbled over.
“Kyle, would you stop acting like a petulant teenager for a single damn meal?!” He growled.
Kyle simply glared and speared a potato rather viciously with his fork.
“Do you mind informing me of what the hell has put you in this state, because you’ve been nothing but unpleasant since the minute you walked through that door, and let me tell you Kyle I’m sick of it.” Jim bit out.
“Oh you’re sick? You are sick? You make me sick!” Kyle said venomously, his fork screeching against his plate as he made another vicious stab at his food.
“Don’t take that tone with me!”
“Yes Sir!” Kyle barked sarcastically, “Of course, Sir! Anything you say, Sir! Would you like to marry me off to a despotic Antarian Sir! Sir, you can just send me off like a lamb to the slaughter.” Resentment laced Kyle’s words.
“So that’s what this is about? Liz choosing to marry an ‘Antarian Despot’?”
“Choosing…? Choosing Dad? Don’t even pretend that what she’s doing is her choice!” Kyle spat acidly.
“Liz volunteered to marry that man, she’s a big girl Kyle, and she made that decision.” He replied coldly.
“You can dress it up any way you like Dad, but that man -that thing- was not Liz’s choice. You and all your high ranking, stuffy military friends, including her own father, sold her out.” Kyle said bitterly.
With a last glare thrown at his father he calmly picked up his plate and carefully put it in the dish washer. Then he walked back past the table, completely ignoring the man who sat at it, and out of the door.
-----------------------
Max stood on that battlefield again, watching her; that incredible fighter. Once again he was mesmerized by her movements… drawn to her.
He walked forward, slowly getting closer and closer to her as she fought. As he got closer the force pulling him toward her seemed to grow stronger. He was plainly obvious now; but still she hadn’t seen him, busy as she was with her faceless opponents.
He could see the finer details of her now; the tiny beads of sweat along her hair line, the way her chest heaved as she fought… the cold fury in her eyes.
And still he was pulled towards her; fascinated.
In horror he felt his arm come up; unbidden… watched his hand grasping a gun and pointing it at her chest. She was almost close enough to touch now… so close… and he was going to kill her!
Panic rose in him; his mouth forming a silent scream as he watched his finger tightening on the trigger.
And then she looked up. He met her eyes. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe… the familiarity of them… and the cold unfamiliarity of the disinterestedness in them… was startling.
He watched as those beautiful, rich brown eyes quickly and calmly measured him up.
And then as his finger pulled the trigger she pulled a dagger from her boot. It cut through the air and hacked efficiently into his breast.
And as he fell he saw her crumpling also…
And then together they lay, bleeding on the black earth.
Max woke panting and drenched in cold sweat.
Sahara's have their centuries, ten thousand of which are smaller than a roses moment - e e cummings
Re: Off the Battlefield (AU, M/L, TEEN/MATURE)AN(pg8)-08/06/08
AN: Hey guys! There was an overwhelming response in favor of posting, therefore I am posting! Sorry I didn't put this up yesterday, but I got back from hospital dead on my feet and kinda collapsed into a semi-comatose state shortly thereafter!
Thanks so much to all of you wonderful people who have left feedback: Natalie36, katydid, Alien614, pandas2001, Michelle in Yonkers, Tears_of_Mercury, nibbles2, begonia9508, Timelord31, tequathisy, ShatteredDreamer, tinie38, December, Wench On A Leash, twilight, paper, raemac and Morning Dreamgirl. You guys are absolutely wonderful, and I'm sorry I haven't been replying individually to your feedback as I'd like to... I'm just a little busy, but I love and appreciate every word you send me and all your words result in quicker updates, yay!
Chapter 12: New World
From her window she could see a whole new world. She’d seen pictures of course… but a picture never can quite capture the majesty of the real thing. She had woken to the vision of a city surrounded by mountains. It looked like something out of the old fantasy films…and for a moment she was sure she was still dreaming. As they got closer to it she could see that its architecture was like nothing she’d ever seen before. The city seemed to grow out of its surroundings. Buildings were intertwined with strange trees so that at times it was difficult to tell what was natural and what was built. Others hovered over water with stained glass windows that cast glittering rainbows she could see even from her distance.
The palace could be seen already; growing out of the amphitheatre created by the mountains. It was magnificent… a towering combination of ancient rock and tree, of glass and light and water all working together to create a visual feast.
It was breathtaking. As she watched out her window she thought that she would be perfectly happy if only she could sit at this window and stare at it forever.
The palace grew larger and larger as they approached but her fear instead of growing now seemed to die in the face of her fascination. She wanted to inspect every beautiful detail in front of her eyes… every carefully crafted turret, every gnarled branch. She wanted to slide her fingers down the smooth planes of coloured glass that would be at least ten times her height. She wanted to sit in the shade beside that river and read a book on a summer day. She wanted to dance in the room the huge tree she could now see, purple and sagging with blossoms, grew into- and enjoy the fragrance she almost imagined she could smell already. Was it her imagination or could she hear that brook over the engines?
Maria slipped into her room, coming to wake her and finding her already awake and standing barefoot at her window, still in her pajamas. Her shoulder length hair was rumpled and there was sleep in her eyes. It was the most relaxed and off guard Maria had seen her for years. The look of complete wonder on her face was something Maria hadn’t seen in even longer.
Watching her now; Maria could almost believe that this was the best thing for her… that this was the new start her best friend needed. She could hope that seeing this Liz, this relaxed and wide eyed woman who was reacting so well to what would soon be her home, was a sign of things to come.
“Maria it’s so beautiful!” She whispered, as Maria walked to her side.
“It is.” Maria agreed, smiling and grasping Liz’s hand and then standing with her to watch as they came to the end of their week long journey.
--------------------------------
Isabel stood on the landing deck flanked on either side by Max and Michael. She watched as the huge ugly human ship docked. It stuck out like a sore thumb. Just looking at it was painful to her.
She glanced over at her brother. His emotions seemed to be on lockdown. His face was as set as the granite they stood on. She knew this expression too well to be fooled into thinking he was alright. This was his: ‘I can’t control anything that’s going on inside me right now- it’s too overwhelming- but I can sure as hell control what people see on the outside’ face.
She quieted her hands in the midst of their nervous skirt smoothing and fiddling with buttons and ties. Then her right hand slipped down to her side and gently grasped his left one. She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. Her free hand reached out for Michael.
And so they stood, no longer isolated, apprehensively watching as the hatch of the ship was opened and the passengers began to slowly file out.
---------------------------------
Amy Deluca Valenti flew into Liz’s room in a rather frenzied state and took in the sight of her two girls standing stationary at the window (one still in her pajamas) with no small sense of exasperation.
“Maria! I thought I told you to wake her up!” She exclaimed, rushing over to the closet and throwing open the doors.
“Does it look like she’s asleep to you mother?” Maria asked, rolling her eyes.
“Why on earth didn’t you get her to put some clothes on? We’ve docked and she needs to be out on that deck in a presentable state in approximately…” She paused to check her watch for dramatic effect, “… five minutes ago!”
“For heaven’s sake mom, she isn’t two! She’s quite capable of dressing herself!”
“Well clearly not…” Amy began.
“She is standing right here.” Liz interrupted, watching the two from her place at the window with her hands on her pajama clad hips and a small amused smile curling the corners of her lips.
“And she had better get dressed!” Amy declared, forcing a pair of jeans (the only pants in Liz’s closet that were not camouflage) and a black sweater into her hands.
Liz strongly suspected that the sweater didn’t belong to her when she discovered a strip of red satin ribbon under the bust… but soon found out that Amy had in fact taken the liberty of having the dress maker alter the majority of her wardrobe.
The sweater fit a little more snugly than usual and the once modest neckline now showed hints of her almost non-existent cleavage. Her jeans had been taken up so that they no longer dragged on the floor; their tatty ends chopped off and neatly hemmed.
She dearly wished she could give Amy an earful but she was whisked from the room by that woman at such a pace as to make speech impossible.
Right before they reached the hatch Amy yanked her to a stand still, shoving a pair of high heels at her and attacking her hair with a brush that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Liz managed to tolerate almost being scalped but flatly refused to exchange the pair of black flats Maria had handed her as she was propelled out of her door for Amy’s ‘torture devices’, arguing that even the flats were a concession since she would have infinitely preferred her boots.
She hadn’t felt this bullied since Amy had seen them off to boarding school.
At last deemed ‘presentable’ Liz fled for the door, momentarily forgetting what awaited her on the other side of it in her haste to get away from Amy and her hairbrush.
--------------------------
She stepped through the door into the dazzling sunlight with Amy (sans hairbrush) and Maria right behind her.
What she was supposed to do after she had taken her first steps onto Antarian soil eluded her however; so she simply stood blinking as her eyes adjusted to the light… she then stumbled semi-blindly in the direction it seemed she was supposed to go judging by the fact that she was being man-handled that way.
The very first thing she saw properly when her eyes were finally seeing more than just silhouettes was him.
She had been placed directly in front of him, leading her to rightly assume that he was her intended. But what she found in front of her was not what she had expected.
He looked… Human.
The almost unnoticeable Antarian features were dimmed to such an extent in him that if she had not known he was Antarian she would not have recognized him as one. The hardness she had expected in him- that she had seen in his father- was not present. What he had in its place was the weariness and disillusionment she saw in the mirror and in all of her friends.
His eyes were the most shocking thing of all however.
They were familiar.
And the expression on his face left her confused and scared and most of all extremely wary of him and unsure of how to act and feel.
He looked shocked.
He looked so shocked that it was blatantly obvious to her and the woman standing beside him who was looking at him with an expression of slight consternation obviously trying to figure out what could be wrong.
And the only thing that shocked her more than his shock, was what she knew to be the reason for it.
It was recognition.
Recognition had been written all over his familiar face the second he had set eyes on her.
And she was sure that if she could see herself right now there would an expression of consternation on her face that mirrored the one on the face of the woman across from her.
Thanks so much to all of you wonderful people who have left feedback: Natalie36, katydid, Alien614, pandas2001, Michelle in Yonkers, Tears_of_Mercury, nibbles2, begonia9508, Timelord31, tequathisy, ShatteredDreamer, tinie38, December, Wench On A Leash, twilight, paper, raemac and Morning Dreamgirl. You guys are absolutely wonderful, and I'm sorry I haven't been replying individually to your feedback as I'd like to... I'm just a little busy, but I love and appreciate every word you send me and all your words result in quicker updates, yay!
Chapter 12: New World
From her window she could see a whole new world. She’d seen pictures of course… but a picture never can quite capture the majesty of the real thing. She had woken to the vision of a city surrounded by mountains. It looked like something out of the old fantasy films…and for a moment she was sure she was still dreaming. As they got closer to it she could see that its architecture was like nothing she’d ever seen before. The city seemed to grow out of its surroundings. Buildings were intertwined with strange trees so that at times it was difficult to tell what was natural and what was built. Others hovered over water with stained glass windows that cast glittering rainbows she could see even from her distance.
The palace could be seen already; growing out of the amphitheatre created by the mountains. It was magnificent… a towering combination of ancient rock and tree, of glass and light and water all working together to create a visual feast.
It was breathtaking. As she watched out her window she thought that she would be perfectly happy if only she could sit at this window and stare at it forever.
The palace grew larger and larger as they approached but her fear instead of growing now seemed to die in the face of her fascination. She wanted to inspect every beautiful detail in front of her eyes… every carefully crafted turret, every gnarled branch. She wanted to slide her fingers down the smooth planes of coloured glass that would be at least ten times her height. She wanted to sit in the shade beside that river and read a book on a summer day. She wanted to dance in the room the huge tree she could now see, purple and sagging with blossoms, grew into- and enjoy the fragrance she almost imagined she could smell already. Was it her imagination or could she hear that brook over the engines?
Maria slipped into her room, coming to wake her and finding her already awake and standing barefoot at her window, still in her pajamas. Her shoulder length hair was rumpled and there was sleep in her eyes. It was the most relaxed and off guard Maria had seen her for years. The look of complete wonder on her face was something Maria hadn’t seen in even longer.
Watching her now; Maria could almost believe that this was the best thing for her… that this was the new start her best friend needed. She could hope that seeing this Liz, this relaxed and wide eyed woman who was reacting so well to what would soon be her home, was a sign of things to come.
“Maria it’s so beautiful!” She whispered, as Maria walked to her side.
“It is.” Maria agreed, smiling and grasping Liz’s hand and then standing with her to watch as they came to the end of their week long journey.
--------------------------------
Isabel stood on the landing deck flanked on either side by Max and Michael. She watched as the huge ugly human ship docked. It stuck out like a sore thumb. Just looking at it was painful to her.
She glanced over at her brother. His emotions seemed to be on lockdown. His face was as set as the granite they stood on. She knew this expression too well to be fooled into thinking he was alright. This was his: ‘I can’t control anything that’s going on inside me right now- it’s too overwhelming- but I can sure as hell control what people see on the outside’ face.
She quieted her hands in the midst of their nervous skirt smoothing and fiddling with buttons and ties. Then her right hand slipped down to her side and gently grasped his left one. She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. Her free hand reached out for Michael.
And so they stood, no longer isolated, apprehensively watching as the hatch of the ship was opened and the passengers began to slowly file out.
---------------------------------
Amy Deluca Valenti flew into Liz’s room in a rather frenzied state and took in the sight of her two girls standing stationary at the window (one still in her pajamas) with no small sense of exasperation.
“Maria! I thought I told you to wake her up!” She exclaimed, rushing over to the closet and throwing open the doors.
“Does it look like she’s asleep to you mother?” Maria asked, rolling her eyes.
“Why on earth didn’t you get her to put some clothes on? We’ve docked and she needs to be out on that deck in a presentable state in approximately…” She paused to check her watch for dramatic effect, “… five minutes ago!”
“For heaven’s sake mom, she isn’t two! She’s quite capable of dressing herself!”
“Well clearly not…” Amy began.
“She is standing right here.” Liz interrupted, watching the two from her place at the window with her hands on her pajama clad hips and a small amused smile curling the corners of her lips.
“And she had better get dressed!” Amy declared, forcing a pair of jeans (the only pants in Liz’s closet that were not camouflage) and a black sweater into her hands.
Liz strongly suspected that the sweater didn’t belong to her when she discovered a strip of red satin ribbon under the bust… but soon found out that Amy had in fact taken the liberty of having the dress maker alter the majority of her wardrobe.
The sweater fit a little more snugly than usual and the once modest neckline now showed hints of her almost non-existent cleavage. Her jeans had been taken up so that they no longer dragged on the floor; their tatty ends chopped off and neatly hemmed.
She dearly wished she could give Amy an earful but she was whisked from the room by that woman at such a pace as to make speech impossible.
Right before they reached the hatch Amy yanked her to a stand still, shoving a pair of high heels at her and attacking her hair with a brush that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Liz managed to tolerate almost being scalped but flatly refused to exchange the pair of black flats Maria had handed her as she was propelled out of her door for Amy’s ‘torture devices’, arguing that even the flats were a concession since she would have infinitely preferred her boots.
She hadn’t felt this bullied since Amy had seen them off to boarding school.
At last deemed ‘presentable’ Liz fled for the door, momentarily forgetting what awaited her on the other side of it in her haste to get away from Amy and her hairbrush.
--------------------------
She stepped through the door into the dazzling sunlight with Amy (sans hairbrush) and Maria right behind her.
What she was supposed to do after she had taken her first steps onto Antarian soil eluded her however; so she simply stood blinking as her eyes adjusted to the light… she then stumbled semi-blindly in the direction it seemed she was supposed to go judging by the fact that she was being man-handled that way.
The very first thing she saw properly when her eyes were finally seeing more than just silhouettes was him.
She had been placed directly in front of him, leading her to rightly assume that he was her intended. But what she found in front of her was not what she had expected.
He looked… Human.
The almost unnoticeable Antarian features were dimmed to such an extent in him that if she had not known he was Antarian she would not have recognized him as one. The hardness she had expected in him- that she had seen in his father- was not present. What he had in its place was the weariness and disillusionment she saw in the mirror and in all of her friends.
His eyes were the most shocking thing of all however.
They were familiar.
And the expression on his face left her confused and scared and most of all extremely wary of him and unsure of how to act and feel.
He looked shocked.
He looked so shocked that it was blatantly obvious to her and the woman standing beside him who was looking at him with an expression of slight consternation obviously trying to figure out what could be wrong.
And the only thing that shocked her more than his shock, was what she knew to be the reason for it.
It was recognition.
Recognition had been written all over his familiar face the second he had set eyes on her.
And she was sure that if she could see herself right now there would an expression of consternation on her face that mirrored the one on the face of the woman across from her.
Last edited by Mac on Sun Aug 10, 2008 6:11 am, edited 1 time in total.
Sahara's have their centuries, ten thousand of which are smaller than a roses moment - e e cummings
Re: Off the Battlefield (AU, M/L, TEEN/MATURE)AN(pg11)-09/02/08
Hi everyone!
I'm sorry I've been so quiet... I promise I won't be so quite for too much longer. In the mean time I just wanted to say thank you to all of you who have been leaving feedback... and say a huge and enormous thank you to whoever nominated me for an RFF Award! Wow! I only just found out today and I can't quite get over the shock! One of my feedbackers had been nominated and I went to check out who else was nominated and there I was! So thank you so much!
I am at this moment spectacularly ecstatic... and if you'd like to vote for me then I'd be really happy and grateful! And I get to post a really cool sig (that's what they're called right) under this... so yay! (excuse my technologically challenged-ness). And if anyone knows where I'm supposed to put the banner thingy that says I'm nominated please let me know. I think I'll just put it here until someone tells me I'm not supposed to! This is soooo cool! I can't get over how cool this is!
I'm sorry I've been so quiet... I promise I won't be so quite for too much longer. In the mean time I just wanted to say thank you to all of you who have been leaving feedback... and say a huge and enormous thank you to whoever nominated me for an RFF Award! Wow! I only just found out today and I can't quite get over the shock! One of my feedbackers had been nominated and I went to check out who else was nominated and there I was! So thank you so much!
I am at this moment spectacularly ecstatic... and if you'd like to vote for me then I'd be really happy and grateful! And I get to post a really cool sig (that's what they're called right) under this... so yay! (excuse my technologically challenged-ness). And if anyone knows where I'm supposed to put the banner thingy that says I'm nominated please let me know. I think I'll just put it here until someone tells me I'm not supposed to! This is soooo cool! I can't get over how cool this is!
Sahara's have their centuries, ten thousand of which are smaller than a roses moment - e e cummings
Re: Off the Battlefield (AU, M/L, TEEN/MATURE)AN(pg13)-10/22/08
AN: Hi everyone! I'm so sorry for the delay. Thanks so much for your patience and understanding! You rock! Hopefully this chapter won't disappoint. And the good news is I only have three more weeks of being a medical student, so after that updates should be much more frequent! Yay!
Special thanks to all my wonderful feedbackers: begonia9508, nibbles2, raemac, December, Natalie36, Alien614, Michelle in Yonkers, Timelord31, tequathisy, paper, Wench On A Leash, C&N214, twilight, carolina_moon, tinie38, Morning Dreamgirl, ShatteredDreamer, Caelan, mlwtbird and bella_svetlana.
For the crazy few who planned a rescue... you guys are my heroes! You made me smile on days when I thought I was going to go nuts!
Thanks so much!
For those of you who left multiple messages demanding more... they are the only reason I've kept writing (albeit slowly), your encouragement meant the world to me!
And for whoever nominated me for an RFFA... you are awesome and fantastic and have been the cause of some much needed joy... I can't thank you enough!
This chapter is for all of you! (And sorry that was such a lame, long AN)
Chapter 13: Panic
When she stepped out of the ship for a second he felt as if time stopped. He couldn’t process it; was sure that she was just some sort of mirage… some trick of the light that would disappear as soon as he’d blinked… He resisted blinking.
She didn’t go away.
She squinted slightly in the bright sunshine and stumbled a little as she came walking his way. She was coming his way!
She couldn’t be… there was no way she was Elizabeth Parker. Was there?
In an instant he was back on a battlefield surrounded by mine dumps… and a scream rang in his ears…
‘Liz!’
It was her.
She was it.
The shock was almost too much… it seemed to be all he was capable of feeling.
At last she was in front of him and looking up at him with those impossibly dark sad eyes… and he could see shock there too… and faint recognition… but above all else he could see consternation. He could feel her panic zinging through him as if it was his own.
Without thinking he disengaged from his sister and reached for her hand.
“Don’t be afraid.” He whispered, wanting for some perverse reason, to reassure her and to remove the deer-in-the-headlights look from her lovely eyes.
She looked down at their hands and he for the first time realized what he’d done. He couldn’t find a word for the expression on her face but there was no encouragement in it… she looked cornered and defensive.
“I’m sorry!” He said, withdrawing his hand from hers. Her hand fell limply to her side.
The woman who stood a little behind her nudged her almost imperceptibly with her foot. She seemed to steel herself before saying the first words he ever heard from her.
“I’m Liz… Elizabeth… whatever you want to call me…” She faltered, clearly uncomfortable with the unfamiliar situation. Suddenly he became aware of the hundreds of pairs of eyes that were looking on. He had never felt more like a goldfish in a bowl.
“I’m Max.” He replied, wanting to stick his hand out to shake hers but finding it a strangely inadequate gesture to offer to the woman he was about to marry.
“Yeah, I figured…” She replied, turning the corner of her mouth upward. It was a smile that struck him as something she was doing only because she thought it was appropriate and expected. He immediately wanted to magic her mouth back into its resting shape. He would rather see her cry meaning it than smile in that empty way.
“Welcome to Antar.” He said, and his voice sounded too stiff and formal to his ears.
“Thank you.” She replied; it was the polite thing to say. He knew as she said it that the last thing she was feeling was gratitude.
The silence stretched between them, and the crowd looked on. He searched his mind desperately for something to say, but found nothing. He tried desperately to think back on any type of protocol or tradition that would dictate what to do in this situation… but again could think of nothing.
In desperation he tore himself away from the intimidating brown depths of Elizabeth’s eyes to find the familiar brown of his sister’s.
Isabel stood slightly apart from him now, looking on and awaiting some kind of cue from him. In a moment of silent communication she saw his panic and desperation… his plea for help. Then he watched as she gathered herself together to come to his aid; ever the warrior princess.
She turned toward the palace servants. She had thoughtfully assigned the task of taking care of the guests to those who had been taught a small amount of English.
“Perhaps you could assist Miss Parker and our other guests with their luggage… they’ve had a long trip and are no doubt very tired.”
During the second part of her short speech she had angled herself towards Elizabeth, favoring her with a tight smile. In it Max perceived his sister’s sympathy with her, but also her distrust.
“Would you like to be shown to your rooms?” He asked Elizabeth awkwardly, once again all too aware of the prying eyes.
“Yes please.” She replied, ever polite, maintaining eye contact for only a second before looking back toward the two women who flanked her protectively on either side, though they had dropped back slightly, obviously in deference to him.
He stood staring at her for a few moments, unaware of what he was now supposed to do. Everything about their interaction felt so stilted, was he supposed to take her hand and lead her? Was he supposed to offer her his arm like something out of an ancient human film? Why was this so difficult? And how was he supposed to act natural with her? How was he supposed to integrate the two very separate images of the warrior woman and the woman he was going to marry in his head?
After a few uncertain seconds she took a step towards him.
“It’s this way right?” She asked quietly, gesturing towards the palace.
“Um… yes… sorry!” He was an idiot! He was a complete fool! He was humiliating himself in front of his entire staff, his family and apparently half of earth as well. He turned around and began to walk toward the palace; slowly at first so that she could walk next to him.
She didn’t fall into stride beside him.
He turned to look for her only to find hundreds of people now openly staring at them.
He longed to voice what his mind was screaming internally: ‘You are dismissed, leave us in peace!’
Instead he turned to face his betrothed; still a few steps behind him on the path, looking uncertain… though for a second she had a charmingly intrigued expression on her face as she took in her very foreign surroundings. The expression lit a small spark of hope in his heart.
He waited for her to catch up with him and they continued up the path in silence; the quiet centre of the hub of activity around them.
-----------------------------------
Liz watched hundreds of Antarian servants recommencing their usual activities… swarming like ants around them or rushing through side doors into the palace or surrounding enclosed gardens. There were faces in the high windows… hundreds of pairs of eyes following her every move.
Suddenly the palace with all its windows lost its beauty.
She felt oppressed by their eyes, as if they were conjuring a cage around her with their gazes.
Max, a few paces ahead of her, didn’t even seem to notice them.
She felt as though she couldn’t breath.
She turned her head, looking for the familiar eyes of her best friend; for the reassurance of familiarity.
Maria walked a few steps behind her, beside the crowned princess and surrounded by ladies in waiting. She looked so evidently uncomfortable and out of place that Liz took comfort. They were in this together. They were aliens together. She wasn’t alone.
She tried to remember this as she followed Max though the enormous, ornate wooden doors into an enormous room the likes of which she had never seen before. Its size and magnificence was intimidating. She felt so small and insignificant within it. And yet all the open space it afforded did not ease the oppression she felt. If anything it seemed to amplify the feeling.
Maria was led away from her by the princess and Amy trailed along in their wake. In a moment they had disappeared around a corner and suddenly she was all alone in a sea of unfamiliar, alien faces.
It felt as if she was trapped in a nightmare, holding on second to second only because she was sure that she would wake up any moment… Any moment now…
But the nightmare didn’t abruptly end. She didn’t wake up sweating and panting and terrified in the barracks. Instead she was led up a vast stone staircase, through vast stone passages with gnarled branches weaved into the stone and the sound of water trickling softly all around her though she couldn’t see a drop.
She was following her future husband and being followed by a flock of servants whose footsteps were like a stampede to her ears.
She was drowning. With every step she took into the depths of that ancient beautiful palace she was being dragged under water.
And her escape route was being blocked by the crowd behind her. Her mind failed to realize that there were only five servants behind her.
She couldn’t breathe! All of the oxygen was being sucked from the passage.
Her lungs unconsciously pulled for air. Her nostrils flared. No! No, no, no! She wouldn’t do this, not now… she wouldn’t panic. One foot in front of the other… she just had to put one foot in front of the other. She focused her eyes on the dark head in front of her.
One foot in front of the other, follow the head… one foot in front of the other, follow the head. The mantra repeated itself over and over in her mind so that her world was narrowed down to one sentence and the back of a dark head. Everything was okay. Everything was going to be okay.
Her eyes were blind to the canopy of leaves that formed most of the ceiling above her; she didn’t see the dappled sunlight beneath her feet. The floor to ceiling plate glass windows on her left held no allure. She didn’t care to enjoy the view of the entire city that they afforded.
She didn’t realize the trouble that had gone into choosing her room; didn’t think of the lengths her future husband had gone to in order to ensure that she was put here… here in the quietest and most beautiful corner of the palace. In the quarters that had been built for his grandmother. She didn’t realize that she was being allowed into a sacred place that no one but his mother had entered since his grandmother’s death… not until he had demanded to have this section of the palace reopened for her sake only.
She knew only the back of his head and the mantra she clung to and the terror that gripped her heart. She couldn’t begin to guess what was happening in his head… she couldn’t begin to think about what was happening in his heart. She couldn’t begin to appreciate what the man attached to the back of the head she was following blindly had already done for her.
Finally the head stopped and turned to face her. Though she didn’t notice his brow furrowed at the sight of her pale face.
“This is your room.” He said quietly, pushing open an intricately carved wooden door.
“Thank you.” She replied reflexively. Her voice was oddly calm and detached… she heard it as if someone else was talking.
Her feet carried her past him. Her body angled, carefully avoiding contact with him as she passed through the door. Her eyes saw nothing. She stood in the middle of her new room with her back to him and took in nothing. Her arms crossed over her; hands gripping at the material of her sweater at her sides as she held herself together.
“Your quarters aren’t very big but your bedroom is there…” He said, indicating to one of the doors, “there’s a bathroom through the door on the left and a study through the other… and the whole passage is yours.” She made no attempt to reply to him.
“There are guest rooms further back, where we came from.” She didn’t notice the awkward worry in his voice. Her unresponsiveness was to him a response in itself.
“There are two servants for your exclusive use just next door.” He added. Still she stood in silence with her back to him.
“Would you like me to call them to help you unpack?” He asked.
She was so silent at first that he thought she wasn’t going to reply again.
“I’d like to be left alone now please.” She said finally, again in that detached voice.
“Of course.”
Again the silence stretched between them. Why wouldn’t he leave? She wanted him to leave! Had she not been clear enough about that?! Must she ask him?
She didn’t want him to see…
“Goodbye.” He said as he finally walked out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.
The hazy world around her seemed to crumble as that door closed.
---------------------------
AN: I hope you all enjoyed it, and again, I'm really sorry for making you wait so long!
Special thanks to all my wonderful feedbackers: begonia9508, nibbles2, raemac, December, Natalie36, Alien614, Michelle in Yonkers, Timelord31, tequathisy, paper, Wench On A Leash, C&N214, twilight, carolina_moon, tinie38, Morning Dreamgirl, ShatteredDreamer, Caelan, mlwtbird and bella_svetlana.
For the crazy few who planned a rescue... you guys are my heroes! You made me smile on days when I thought I was going to go nuts!
Thanks so much! For those of you who left multiple messages demanding more... they are the only reason I've kept writing (albeit slowly), your encouragement meant the world to me!
And for whoever nominated me for an RFFA... you are awesome and fantastic and have been the cause of some much needed joy... I can't thank you enough!
This chapter is for all of you! (And sorry that was such a lame, long AN)
Chapter 13: Panic
When she stepped out of the ship for a second he felt as if time stopped. He couldn’t process it; was sure that she was just some sort of mirage… some trick of the light that would disappear as soon as he’d blinked… He resisted blinking.
She didn’t go away.
She squinted slightly in the bright sunshine and stumbled a little as she came walking his way. She was coming his way!
She couldn’t be… there was no way she was Elizabeth Parker. Was there?
In an instant he was back on a battlefield surrounded by mine dumps… and a scream rang in his ears…
‘Liz!’
It was her.
She was it.
The shock was almost too much… it seemed to be all he was capable of feeling.
At last she was in front of him and looking up at him with those impossibly dark sad eyes… and he could see shock there too… and faint recognition… but above all else he could see consternation. He could feel her panic zinging through him as if it was his own.
Without thinking he disengaged from his sister and reached for her hand.
“Don’t be afraid.” He whispered, wanting for some perverse reason, to reassure her and to remove the deer-in-the-headlights look from her lovely eyes.
She looked down at their hands and he for the first time realized what he’d done. He couldn’t find a word for the expression on her face but there was no encouragement in it… she looked cornered and defensive.
“I’m sorry!” He said, withdrawing his hand from hers. Her hand fell limply to her side.
The woman who stood a little behind her nudged her almost imperceptibly with her foot. She seemed to steel herself before saying the first words he ever heard from her.
“I’m Liz… Elizabeth… whatever you want to call me…” She faltered, clearly uncomfortable with the unfamiliar situation. Suddenly he became aware of the hundreds of pairs of eyes that were looking on. He had never felt more like a goldfish in a bowl.
“I’m Max.” He replied, wanting to stick his hand out to shake hers but finding it a strangely inadequate gesture to offer to the woman he was about to marry.
“Yeah, I figured…” She replied, turning the corner of her mouth upward. It was a smile that struck him as something she was doing only because she thought it was appropriate and expected. He immediately wanted to magic her mouth back into its resting shape. He would rather see her cry meaning it than smile in that empty way.
“Welcome to Antar.” He said, and his voice sounded too stiff and formal to his ears.
“Thank you.” She replied; it was the polite thing to say. He knew as she said it that the last thing she was feeling was gratitude.
The silence stretched between them, and the crowd looked on. He searched his mind desperately for something to say, but found nothing. He tried desperately to think back on any type of protocol or tradition that would dictate what to do in this situation… but again could think of nothing.
In desperation he tore himself away from the intimidating brown depths of Elizabeth’s eyes to find the familiar brown of his sister’s.
Isabel stood slightly apart from him now, looking on and awaiting some kind of cue from him. In a moment of silent communication she saw his panic and desperation… his plea for help. Then he watched as she gathered herself together to come to his aid; ever the warrior princess.
She turned toward the palace servants. She had thoughtfully assigned the task of taking care of the guests to those who had been taught a small amount of English.
“Perhaps you could assist Miss Parker and our other guests with their luggage… they’ve had a long trip and are no doubt very tired.”
During the second part of her short speech she had angled herself towards Elizabeth, favoring her with a tight smile. In it Max perceived his sister’s sympathy with her, but also her distrust.
“Would you like to be shown to your rooms?” He asked Elizabeth awkwardly, once again all too aware of the prying eyes.
“Yes please.” She replied, ever polite, maintaining eye contact for only a second before looking back toward the two women who flanked her protectively on either side, though they had dropped back slightly, obviously in deference to him.
He stood staring at her for a few moments, unaware of what he was now supposed to do. Everything about their interaction felt so stilted, was he supposed to take her hand and lead her? Was he supposed to offer her his arm like something out of an ancient human film? Why was this so difficult? And how was he supposed to act natural with her? How was he supposed to integrate the two very separate images of the warrior woman and the woman he was going to marry in his head?
After a few uncertain seconds she took a step towards him.
“It’s this way right?” She asked quietly, gesturing towards the palace.
“Um… yes… sorry!” He was an idiot! He was a complete fool! He was humiliating himself in front of his entire staff, his family and apparently half of earth as well. He turned around and began to walk toward the palace; slowly at first so that she could walk next to him.
She didn’t fall into stride beside him.
He turned to look for her only to find hundreds of people now openly staring at them.
He longed to voice what his mind was screaming internally: ‘You are dismissed, leave us in peace!’
Instead he turned to face his betrothed; still a few steps behind him on the path, looking uncertain… though for a second she had a charmingly intrigued expression on her face as she took in her very foreign surroundings. The expression lit a small spark of hope in his heart.
He waited for her to catch up with him and they continued up the path in silence; the quiet centre of the hub of activity around them.
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Liz watched hundreds of Antarian servants recommencing their usual activities… swarming like ants around them or rushing through side doors into the palace or surrounding enclosed gardens. There were faces in the high windows… hundreds of pairs of eyes following her every move.
Suddenly the palace with all its windows lost its beauty.
She felt oppressed by their eyes, as if they were conjuring a cage around her with their gazes.
Max, a few paces ahead of her, didn’t even seem to notice them.
She felt as though she couldn’t breath.
She turned her head, looking for the familiar eyes of her best friend; for the reassurance of familiarity.
Maria walked a few steps behind her, beside the crowned princess and surrounded by ladies in waiting. She looked so evidently uncomfortable and out of place that Liz took comfort. They were in this together. They were aliens together. She wasn’t alone.
She tried to remember this as she followed Max though the enormous, ornate wooden doors into an enormous room the likes of which she had never seen before. Its size and magnificence was intimidating. She felt so small and insignificant within it. And yet all the open space it afforded did not ease the oppression she felt. If anything it seemed to amplify the feeling.
Maria was led away from her by the princess and Amy trailed along in their wake. In a moment they had disappeared around a corner and suddenly she was all alone in a sea of unfamiliar, alien faces.
It felt as if she was trapped in a nightmare, holding on second to second only because she was sure that she would wake up any moment… Any moment now…
But the nightmare didn’t abruptly end. She didn’t wake up sweating and panting and terrified in the barracks. Instead she was led up a vast stone staircase, through vast stone passages with gnarled branches weaved into the stone and the sound of water trickling softly all around her though she couldn’t see a drop.
She was following her future husband and being followed by a flock of servants whose footsteps were like a stampede to her ears.
She was drowning. With every step she took into the depths of that ancient beautiful palace she was being dragged under water.
And her escape route was being blocked by the crowd behind her. Her mind failed to realize that there were only five servants behind her.
She couldn’t breathe! All of the oxygen was being sucked from the passage.
Her lungs unconsciously pulled for air. Her nostrils flared. No! No, no, no! She wouldn’t do this, not now… she wouldn’t panic. One foot in front of the other… she just had to put one foot in front of the other. She focused her eyes on the dark head in front of her.
One foot in front of the other, follow the head… one foot in front of the other, follow the head. The mantra repeated itself over and over in her mind so that her world was narrowed down to one sentence and the back of a dark head. Everything was okay. Everything was going to be okay.
Her eyes were blind to the canopy of leaves that formed most of the ceiling above her; she didn’t see the dappled sunlight beneath her feet. The floor to ceiling plate glass windows on her left held no allure. She didn’t care to enjoy the view of the entire city that they afforded.
She didn’t realize the trouble that had gone into choosing her room; didn’t think of the lengths her future husband had gone to in order to ensure that she was put here… here in the quietest and most beautiful corner of the palace. In the quarters that had been built for his grandmother. She didn’t realize that she was being allowed into a sacred place that no one but his mother had entered since his grandmother’s death… not until he had demanded to have this section of the palace reopened for her sake only.
She knew only the back of his head and the mantra she clung to and the terror that gripped her heart. She couldn’t begin to guess what was happening in his head… she couldn’t begin to think about what was happening in his heart. She couldn’t begin to appreciate what the man attached to the back of the head she was following blindly had already done for her.
Finally the head stopped and turned to face her. Though she didn’t notice his brow furrowed at the sight of her pale face.
“This is your room.” He said quietly, pushing open an intricately carved wooden door.
“Thank you.” She replied reflexively. Her voice was oddly calm and detached… she heard it as if someone else was talking.
Her feet carried her past him. Her body angled, carefully avoiding contact with him as she passed through the door. Her eyes saw nothing. She stood in the middle of her new room with her back to him and took in nothing. Her arms crossed over her; hands gripping at the material of her sweater at her sides as she held herself together.
“Your quarters aren’t very big but your bedroom is there…” He said, indicating to one of the doors, “there’s a bathroom through the door on the left and a study through the other… and the whole passage is yours.” She made no attempt to reply to him.
“There are guest rooms further back, where we came from.” She didn’t notice the awkward worry in his voice. Her unresponsiveness was to him a response in itself.
“There are two servants for your exclusive use just next door.” He added. Still she stood in silence with her back to him.
“Would you like me to call them to help you unpack?” He asked.
She was so silent at first that he thought she wasn’t going to reply again.
“I’d like to be left alone now please.” She said finally, again in that detached voice.
“Of course.”
Again the silence stretched between them. Why wouldn’t he leave? She wanted him to leave! Had she not been clear enough about that?! Must she ask him?
She didn’t want him to see…
“Goodbye.” He said as he finally walked out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.
The hazy world around her seemed to crumble as that door closed.
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AN: I hope you all enjoyed it, and again, I'm really sorry for making you wait so long!
Sahara's have their centuries, ten thousand of which are smaller than a roses moment - e e cummings