A/N: One – this is a drabble, I blame jav-chan, so should you :P And thank her tremendously as my *beta*

Two – Never written this kind of scene before so all comments welcome, but not out and out flames please.

AND Three – this has no link to any other fic I've written and is slightly A/U. *Although…(and this a big although)…it may pre-empt a fic that's been running round in my head doing hurdles for the past few months.

Ok…

Chapter 1: Recollection

It occurred to him that something was different.

Perhaps it was the fact that he couldn't grasp the door handle properly. Maybe it was how it had taken him ten minutes to locate his own set of rooms, although it truly was a winding path along the numerous corridors. But he had never experienced the floor being so uneven before.

He made a mental note to mention it to Merle in the morning. He would also have to ask where she had disappeared to halfway through dinner.

Usually, he despised celebration banquets. It was a waste of time where people already in high places would pander to him, hoping for even higher positions.

He had come so very close to taking his ceremonial sword from its scabbard and throwing it at the various courtiers, letting them fight over the traditional sign of the monarchy.

Unfortunately his mother had caught his eye and stopped him from walking out.

He snorted to himself, now running a hand along the wall in order to keep him upright. Here he was, King of Fanelia and he still was kept in check by his mother. He had been on the throne for five years now, since his fifteenth birthday; and one look from his mother had him sitting bolt upright in his chair.

He sighed to himself.

Maybe the quantity of alcohol Allen had arrived with had had some effect on him. He had never felt this depressed before. And usually with alcohol in his humours, he became a very humorous man, he chortled to himself.

But the significance of the celebration had dampened his disposition. The new treaty, described as iron-clad – or so they would say until someone broke it – between Asturia, Freid, and Fanelia had brought courtiers from the three nations to his own banquet hall.

All thoughts had vanished from his mind when he saw who was in the hall. Standing with the Asturian courtiers and chatting genially with...

He remembered how his mind had almost shut down as he watched her smile and talk at ease with the Asturian Queen? A tiny part of his mind thanked his stringent upbringing that held back the jaw dropping reflex that his synapses fired towards.

Also being male hadn't helped as his acute gaze swept her form as discreetly as possible.

But Allen, of all people Allen, had approached him as if rank wasn't important at this occasion, clapped him on the shoulder and wheeled him into the hall. Thinking about it, perhaps his mother had something to do with it.

But his mother lost her place in his thoughts as the walls held first place, followed by a woman in a red silken organza dress that venerated her figure.

Even now he could recall the shock he had felt.

It had been two years, only two years since she had left him. Or rather, her brother had been offered a job in the Asturian court and she had had to go with him.

It was only now that Van Fanel finally understood the meaning of heartbreak, but he blamed that on his own idiocy.

The tightly controlled caring side of him was aware that she had written to him, at least once monthly for each of the two years past. And it sickened him entirely that he had not responded to one single letter. He also stung with the remembrance of how her letters had decreased in length and then in warmth.

Then the evening itself had punctured him further.

During the banquet she had been too far away to talk to, or even address. And even afterwards she had been swept away by Asturian courtiers to a table by the dance floor where she sat all night talking merrily with both genders.

Van even remembered choking on his goblet of vino as Allen had placed his hand on her shoulder, curling on her bare skin as he asked her to dance. The smile the knight had received had chilled him, which had probably caused the loss of concentration on his alcohol tolerance.

He could only smirk when Allen joined him and the members of the Crusade a short while later, joining their ever increasingly raucous behaviour.

But his pleasure at seeing Allen shot down weakly echoed off his abyss of sadness. Abyss seemed an appropriate word, he thought. After all as King he was supposed to be well educated and use fancy words.

His education was useless in this case.

Throughout the entire evening he had kept an eye on her, in a friendly and yet discreet capacity he told himself. Someone had to make sure she wasn't mistreated. Not that he could lecture anyone on this subject.

But it hurt more than anything to know that from the onset of evening until the group of Asturians left the room, she hadn't glanced once in his direction.

At times like this, Van Fanel hated being a King.

And dammit, where was his room? He had circled this floor at least twice or so his drink addled brain informed him. Wonderful, he couldn't even trust his own judgement.

It was to his complete and utter surprise that the wall he had been leaning against, but only slightly, moved. And not in his mind alone. His legs managed to stabilise himself as he stumbled in a most ungentlemanly fashion into a room he remembered very well, once again to his astonishment.

Apparently Escaflowne and his brothers had prepared a set of surprises for him as a form of congratulations for the peace treaty. And this present was wrapped in red organza.

To be continued…

A/N: All comments welcome. Please Read AND Review!!!!!!!!!!