12/31/2020 In My Defense, I Was Left Unsupervised

 “In my defense, I was left unsupervised.”

I stride past him, looking down the hallway. It is an absolute mess. Paintings and tapestries are torn from the walls. The cell door hangs at a weird angle, the top hinges completely torn away. All four guards lay strewn in pools of their own blood, limbs and heads at unnatural angles. No, he was not left unsupervised. 

Thorne drapes himself against the study’s doorway. His posture is infuriating, as if he didn’t just go into a bloody rampage across my tower. 

“I don’t know who you think you are!” I stride towards him and jab a finger into his chest. His hand darts up and snatches my wrist, yanking my hand back so fast I gasp. Violet eyes meet mine, paralyzing me. I gape as he leans forward, his face just inches from mine. There’s something about him I didn’t notice when we arrested him. Something that isn’t human.  

“Clearly you don’t,” His voice is a soft purr that sends shivers down my spine. “Or else you wouldn’t have tried to confine me to that wretched little cell. You would have stationed more than poorly trained palace guards to keep me. Your master must have no more use for you if he sent you after someone like me.” 

Suddenly, I’m being dragged inside the study. He grasps my hair in an iron grip, pulling me across the room. My heart pounds violently in my chest and I drag my nails down his arm, but he doesn’t even react. I almost scream for the guards, but they’re all dead. It’s just me. Alone with this demon.

The breath rushes from my lungs when he throws me against the desk, papers scattering to the floor as I catch myself barely against the edge. His strength is terrifying, unnatural. I don’t understand why I would be tasked with capturing this monster, and with only a few soldiers. It’s out of my skill set. I must have done something to disappoint the King. Something bad enough that he would send me to my death.

Thorne seats himself casually on the other side of the desk. He looks elegant and lethal, draped in all black, eyes deadly and hypnotizing. Not a single hair is out of place. You wouldn’t ever think he just brutally murdered four people. 

He leans back, watching me. “You will write a letter to your King. Make him think I’m dead and dealt with.”

I lower myself into the desk’s chair, trying to control my shaking. “I can’t do that. It would be treason to lie to the King. He always learns the truth. And then he’ll come after me.”

Thorne smirks. “Again with underestimating me. Let your guards be a testament to what I can and will do to you.” 

My breath hitches in my chest, imagining the awful things he’s capable of. But it can’t be worse than the King. If I commit treason, he will drag me home. He’ll torture my family publicly before executing me. If I’m killed performing one of his duties, my family will be rewarded the rest of the wages I would have earned. The decision is simple. 

I shake my head, and Thorne’s eyes widen in disbelief. “If you knew him, you would just kill me and be done with it.” 

Thorne watches me, his eyes calculating. His voice is soft when he says, “It is a shame to waste something so pretty.”

I fly back, head cracking hard against the ground as he flies over the desk. My vision darkens as he crouches over me. His hands feel gentle, cradling my head in his palms like a lover. The last thing I see are his eyes, violent and beautiful. Fiery with an anger that calls to me. Full of a pain that reaches into my soul.

12/22/2020 Shiver

 My breath curls in the air in smoky tendrils. I’ve never noticed before, how beautiful it is. The essence of life, dancing in the wind. The air is crisp, and my body shakes with cold and shock. The ice reaches down to my bones, causing a deep shiver that trembles to my core. My hands shake, clutching at the bloody mess of my chest. I know it’s pointless at this point, but I’m not ready to walk through the Veil. I promised Andor I would fight to my dying breath. 

It feels so long ago, that we huddled by the fire, laughing and trading childhood stories. So long ago, that we slipped away from our Master, journeying deep into the forest. The imprint of his lips is still fresh on my lips. But not as fresh as his blood, soaked into my dress, mixing with my own. His eyes flash in my mind, the way they looked, drained of their fire. 

Dead. He is dead. 

A tendril of mist catches my eye, and I slowly force my head up, staring into the dark. I see only shadows. But a presence presses in on me. I know I’m not alone. I watch the trees carefully, waiting. The smell of my blood is bound to attract monsters, especially in the middle of a harsh winter. 

A twig snaps, and two glowing eyes appear beside a tree, meeting mine. A wolf. Black as the night, magnificent against the frozen forest. He is starved, his hip bones too sharp, his ribs visible through his fur. But still, he is lithe and powerful. His gaze is patient, almost kind. He knows death is near, and he’s waiting patiently. 

My eyes close slowly. The blood flow has slowed, and the strength leeches from my body on the breeze. Suddenly, the Veil is before me. A hand reaches through, strong and familiar. Andor. 

I let my hand fall from my chest. The last of my life blood pulses out, dripping onto the snow. But the feeling no longer disturbs me. My vision darkens, and I raise my eyes to meet the wolf’s gaze one more time. His golden eyes, warm and comforting, are the last I see of the world. My soul lifts from my body, and the pain disappears.

Peace. 

12/15/2020 They Were All Alive Because Of Her

My first submission to a prompt competition. 2,000 word limit.
I ended up using one of my old short prompts as a base. I tried the entire two weeks to come up with something, but with the craziness of the holidays and catching two different illnesses (one being COVID-19!) I was suffering from the worst writer's block! So here it is! 

Freedom By Enchantment

 My footsteps fell quietly on the stairs and my hand trailed along the rough stone wall. I came up to a small balcony overlooking the forest and paused to look out. There was no sign of the beast. I had lost him in the forest, much to his anger. But as guardian of this tower, he would be here any second. Garzein was tasked with guarding the Tower of Fange, where legend whispered of a Lost King enchanted in a deep sleep. The creature was created solely for the purpose of keeping the King safe and valiant heroes away. But he wouldn’t be a problem for me. 

I turned from the forest and began making my way up the stairs again, and almost tripped in my sudden stop. I yelped and reached a hand out, steadying myself against the curved stones. Garzein crouched on the stairs directly above of me, spiked tail swishing in the air, eyes glowing red and angry in the darkness. With a body made of earth and stone, he could hide in the walls of the Tower itself. His teeth were long and jagged, his wing span the length of three men laying head to toe. A beast meant for destruction and fear. 

I clutched my tungsten dagger, not moving a muscle. This was a prized creature of the North, and killing him would be seen as an act of war. The Advisor had already sent his Jegere after me, a small force of elite spies and soldiers. He wanted to keep his prized slave’s escape a secret. But the death of his great stone beast would be the last straw, and bring on a swarm of soldiers and bounty hunters. But if it’s what needed to be done, I would do it. No price would ever be great enough to stop me.

“You are a brave little thing.” the creature hissed. His voice sent shivers down my spine, the sound otherworldly and rough, like rocks scraping together. “But you are foolish. And that will be your downfall.” He stood up on his hind legs and took a step closer, tucking his stone colored wings neatly against his back. 

Taking a careful step back, I held my dagger out in front of me. It reflected red in the blinding light of his eyes. They looked like boiling pits of lava, and their attention felt like an omen of death. I steeled myself against my fear and narrowed my eyes. “You have mistaken me for one of your usual victims, Beast. I am Aundra of Kysten Hall, the daughter of Forrade. I am no ordinary human.”  

Garzein hissed as the dagger began to glow with power. Magick seared through my veins, gathering in my palm and crackling through the blade. A deep growl rumbled through my chest as Garzein bared his teeth. 

“Interesting, the Advisor will be interested to know that his little slave is an Enchantress.” I shuddered as he leaned forward, his breath rank and smelling of rotted flesh. His eyes glimmered with a new interest. “Perhaps he will reward me for returning his little runaway. He might consider it payment, and my sentence to this Hell will be over.” 

A sick feeling began rising in my chest and I pushed it down forcefully. No time for fear. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to hold the beast’s gaze. 

“I am no one’s slave.” I spat. Magick shot from my blade, hitting Garzein directly in the chest. A rush of energy leached from my body, and was immediately replaced by another surge of magick, taken from my soul’s reserves. 

Garzein screeched and launched himself over me, teeth bared in an ugly sneer. Suddenly I was airborne, stonelike claws gripping my forearms in a vice. My scream was ripped away by the wind, the forest spinning below me. He took me up and up, and I closed my eyes, putting all of my focus into keeping my grip on the dagger. 

Suddenly I lurched sideways, and then I was free falling, flying towards the trees.  Garzein had tossed me like a rag doll, and soon I would be nothing but a splattered corpse. Branches whipped across my face, slicing into my skin. As the ground got close, I had just enough time to shout out one word. 

“Vokte!” Magick surged forward, running over the surface of my skin just as I hit the ground. Enough protection to keep me from completely breaking, but the force of my landing still knocked the air out of my lungs. I would have plenty of bruises after this fight, if I survived. 

I dragged myself into a kneeling position, gripping my dagger in a white knuckled fist. 

Garzein stood before me, eyes blazing with rage. The tower stood behind him, cutting into the sky sharply. I could make out the shape of a stone cage at the top. My Beloved King was just out of my reach. 

“Not feeling so cocky anymore, are you, slave?” Garzein growled. 

I rose to my feet on shaky legs. Doing my best to ignore the tilt of the earth, caused by my tumble to ground. I squared my shoulders and stared Garzein in the eye. “I am Aundra, daughter of the ocean, lover of the Lost King,” my voice trembled as rage coursed through me, “and you will not keep me from him!” 

I raised my dagger in the air. But before I could utter a spell, I was ripped from the Earth, spinning into the sky once again. Indignation coursed through me as Garzein’s claws dug into my forearms. He was using me as a play thing. I writhed in his grip, trying to break free. All while looking around wildly to get my bearings.

Suddenly, the tower loomed beneath me. I saw my chance, and slashed the dagger across the claws gripping my forearm. My chant was ripped from my mouth by the wind, but magick still poured from my soul. The dagger cut into Garzein’s skin, and he screamed, releasing me into the air. 

I landed hard at the top of the tower, right next to the stone cage. Despite the pain shattering through my side, I felt a small sense of victory. I had reached him at last. 

For in that stone cage was a man, asleep on an altar. He lay on his back, a Rune carved sword clutched in his fists. Beneath his dark beard, his skin had turned ashen and wrinkled from all the years of endless sleep. On his brow lay a circlet of gold, a blood red ruby inlaid in the center. The Lost King, the rescuer of our people, had been hidden here for years. In his absence, the Advisor had taken control of the kingdom, draining the royal coffers and enslaving the Kysten people. 

I drew on my power, a surge of determination and rage coursing through me at the disrespect to my King. Garzein flew over me, eyes blazing. When I raised my dagger towards him he shot straight for me. But this time I was ready. I dropped to the ground, rolling to the side as his claws reached for me. He swooped past me with an enraged scream. 

Before he could correct himself I screamed out the strongest spell I knew, a word of power taught to me years ago. A word I was warned against ever using unless I was desperate and beyond help, as it was known to kill lesser Enchantresses. 

“Helvete!” Magick ripped from my body, sending me sprawling backwards. Power surged from my soul and through my veins, rushing to my hands. Light shot from my dagger, slamming straight into Garzein. His scream was blood curdling, and he crashed to the ground beside me, writhing under the magick’s grip. I watched with rising horror as cracks appeared across his skin. His molten eyes met mine, and then he shattered. 

Grey stone sprayed everywhere, and I covered my head as it pelted against me. 

I lowered my arms slowly. Garzein was gone. A giant stone key lay in his place, carved with Runes. I stood up and staggered to it, sheathing my dagger. There was no time to waste, the Advisor would have felt his stone beast’s soul exit the realm. His Jegere would be here within the hour. 

I grabbed the key, gripping its weight in two hands, and carried it to the stone cage. It took all of my remaining strength to put it in the keyhole and drag the door open. The King lay on his altar, undisturbed by the fight that had just taken place a few yards away from him. Undisturbed by the absolute mess of violence and greed his Kingdom had become. 

His hands were cold in mine, and I gripped his fingers in my palms. It had been so many years since I had seen his face, felt the roughness of his hands against my skin. My throat tightened staring down at him, but I didn’t have time to linger. 

“Duhrak of the Cold Mountains, I release you from your sleep.” I leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on his lips. I pulled away, staring at his face expectantly. His expression was slack, still lost deep in the Realm of Dreams. 

I needed magick for this, but the battle had drained me. But just a drop would do the trick. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, focusing inward, searching along the walls of my soul. For a moment, I couldn’t find anything, and panic shot through me. But then there it was, the last remnants of my magick, hiding in the darkest corner. I pulled at it gently, drawing it out. Warmth trickled into my veins as my power obeyed, and I leaned forward, pressing another kiss against Duhrak’s lips. 

Magick seeped through my fingers, absorbing into Duhrak’s body. I opened my eyes slowly, afraid that it wouldn’t be enough. But then vibrant blue eyes met mine, and my heart soared. Those eyes that had held mine, comforting me in the night, sending secret love across a room full of people. So, so familiar. I thought they were gone forever. Stolen away from me and locked away from the world. 

Now we had hope. Now my people would survive.

12/13/2020 Feel It All Around (Washed Out)

 Leifan’s hands held my face gingerly. He pressed his forehead against mine and matched my breath. I closed my eyes, trying to absorb his calm. He smelled like home, like pine trees and earth after a rainstorm. The more I focused on it, the less I could smell the iron tang of blood. 

“Keep your eyes closed,” he said gently. He took my hands, unbothered that they were slick with blood, and guided me through the room. We stepped carefully around the body and through the door of our cabin. He guided me across the field, telling me when to watch my step. His hands were strong and steady, his voice gentle and non judgemental.  

The sharp smell of manure hit me as we came up to the cow pen, and suddenly I was sitting on the ground. I jumped when cold water hit my hands, and realized that he was washing me. Washing away the evidence of what I had done. A tear ran down my cheek. And then another. Before I knew it, I was leaning my head against his shoulder bawling my eyes out. 

Leifan sat next to me and pulled me into his lap. His nose pressed into my hair against the side of my head, and he whispered to me gently. 

“You did what needed to be done. He would have gotten in the way.” 

I cracked my eyes open and pulled away to look at him. Normally I would be embarrassed that he was seeing me this way, dress ripped to shreds, face puffy and streaked with blood and tears. But he had already seen the worst of me, standing over his body, clutching the fire iron in a white knuckled fist. 

Leifan was staring at me, his eyes intense and flickering with emotion. I shook my head, he thought I had killed him for the Cause. True, he posed a risk for us. The King’s Men had begun watching him very closely. Eventually they would have come around asking questions, and he would’ve been too weak minded to keep the truth from them. But in the end, that’s not why I did it. 

“He drove my Mother away. It’s his fault she died,” I hissed angrily. Leifan’s eyes widened slightly, and shame filled me. But now that I started, I couldn’t stop. “He made her feel worthless. So worthless she thought we were better off without her. And then he started doing it to me, driving me away. He told me the world was better off without me, that all I am is a worthless whore who’ll end up as a sex slave for an Overseer.” My arms began to shake hard, and Leifan rested his hands on my shoulders, steadying me. “He said I would fetch a nice price in the Market. Maybe enough to make this month’s dues. And that’s when….that’s when I…” I stared down at my hands. The water from the cow’s trough had cleaned most of the blood away, but it was still under my nails. 

I felt Leifan’s fingers under my chin, and he tilted my head up to look at him. The look in his eyes was fiery. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against my lips, softly. Tears filled my eyes again, but this time I kept a grip on myself. 

“You kissed me…?” I stared at him when he leaned back, and his face broke into a lopsided smile. 

“You have no idea how amazing you are,” his eyes crinkled slightly as he scanned me over, taking in my blood soaked dress. “Beautiful and fierce. So much potential trapped in the body of a simple farmer’s daughter. And now you’ve gotten rid of the only thing standing in your way.” His smile stretched into a grin, and my stomach fluttered as he gripped my hands. “You will be unstoppable.”

12/10/2020 Utholde

            Inhale.

Exhale.

I force myself to breathe, filling my lungs fully. Then release my breath slowly, forcing calm into my body. I close my eyes, inhaling the crisp smell of pine. 

I’m expected back soon. But I can’t appear in front of the courts in this state of mind. My Father expects me to welcome the North Men into our home with open arms. He expects me to forget the fear and heartache, the memory of their soldiers storming through our gates, drenched in the blood of my people. I told him it was a trap, that we were a mouse caught by a cat, their plaything. But he is blinded by his desperation. He forced me to put on this ridiculous dress, green to match my eyes and contrasting starkly against my ivory skin. He dressed me up like a prized horse, hoping to give me a Northern husband instead of a brutal death. 

Over my dead body. I cross my arms over my chest and clench my hands into fists, shivering against the cold. I force another calming breath into my lungs. I need to stay calm. I need to keep the beast at bay. I am our final hope, our only remaining weapon against the North Men. I’ll be no good to anyone if I lose my cool now, with so many enemy soldiers around. 

The North Men are heartless and brutal. It didn’t take them long to break through our defenses, and Father caved to their will quickly. He is scared of pain. Scared of death. A coward and traitor to his people. He can greet those monsters on his own, if they’re insulted at the absence of the Princess, so be it. 

A loud snort makes me jump, but it’s only Pegasus, waiting impatiently a few paces away. I close my eyes again, trying to relax again. They spring open again when the sound footsteps reach me. 

A young man steps through the trees, holding the reins to a giant black stallion in a fist. He’s draped in furs, his face travel worn and scarred from battle. He is handsome and roguish, his shoulders broad, his expression haughty. His dark hair and wild appearance marks him as a North Man. He stops a few paces from me and regards me coolly. 

“Princess Eira?” He scans me brazenly, pausing on the royal amulet at my neck. His eyes are icy, nearly white. 

“Northern scum.” My voice is level, despite the shiver of fear running down my spine at his piercing gaze. I square my shoulders and do my best to stare him down.  

The man’s eyebrows shoot up, and a surprised smile quirks his lips. My jaw clenches and I can’t help glaring. 

“Your presence is required in the Hall.” His tone almost makes me spit. How dare this foreign shit invade my home and butcher my people, and then command me like my title means nothing. Rage courses through me, and I have to close my eyes again, forcing another slow breath. 

I open my eyes when the snow crunches. The man stands in front of me, looking amused. He is close enough that I know in a matter of moments I’ll be thrown over his shoulder and taken back by force. That would give them all a good laugh, the Princess dumped on the floor in a heap in front of the entire surviving court. 

I roll my eyes and stride towards Pegasus, fully aware of the man keeping pace behind me. He mounts his horse quickly as I take my time, arranging my green gown to cover my legs. As I sit up I scan the area carefully. Beyond the tree line is an open field. Giant trees tower on the other side, so dense I can’t see past the first line of pines. The Forest of Dod, the place of nightmares. No one knows what horrors it holds, but everyone who has ever entered has never returned. 

My mother’s voice enters my mind. “In your time of greatest need, reach the Shrine of Ulver, deep in the Forest of Dod. There you will find your destiny.” She had whispered this to me, tucking me into bed and running a hand over my hair. That was the last time anyone ever saw her. The memory was faded, blurred among the other confusing memories of my childhood. 

I stare at the Forest. Only in my time of greatest need would I even dare. But it’s either this or handing myself over to the Northern Men, where I will be raped and killed, or forced into a marriage with one of their brutish men. Both are the same thing in the end. Desperation washes over me. Is it better to die in the Forest? 

One single thought pierces through my mind, as if planted there. 

Utholde.

Endure. Anger courses through my veins like fire, burning my to my core. This is my home, and I will not be led as a lamb to slaughter. 

Utholde. 

Endure. I turn and look at the North Man, who is watching me carefully. His hand lays casually on the handle of his axe. My eyes roam past him, and I clutch at my chest gasping, pointing a shaky hand behind him. 

The second he turns his attention away, I dig my heels into Pegasus. He launches  forward, thundering out of the grove and into the field, heading straight for the Forest. Something heavy whooshes, and warmth sears down the side of my face. The North Man had thrown his axe, just missing a killing blow. I don’t have time to assess the damage. I hunch low on Pegasus’ back and yell, pushing my heels hard into his ribs. He flies in a reckless gallop, and I pray we won’t fall. The North Man shouts behind me as I approach the treeline, either out of anger or a warning, I don’t know. 

Right as we reach the treeline Pegasus slams to a stop, his butt nearly hitting the ground as he slides across the icy grass. I launch over his head, pitching head first into the trees. Darkness envelops me as I slam into dirt, tearing through pine needles. I land on my back and immediately roll over to see if I was followed. The North Man stops just outside the treeline, a look of total disbelief on his face. Pegasus is already almost to the other side of the field, making his way back to the castle, his eyes flashing white with terror. 

I make eye contact with the North Man and smile. Only a fool would follow me in here. I climb to my feet, dusting off my dress. The North Man watches me, his eyes calculating.

“You’re going to die in there, Princess!” 

My smile turns cold. “Better a death by wolves than by the hand of a wretched North Man.” I spit and throw my hand in the air, giving him a hostile gesture. 

The North Man throws his head back and laughs. He unclasps the brooch holding his fur cloak in place and pulls something from his belt, wrapping it up. The cloak lands at my feet in a ball. 

I stare at him in surprise. He gives me a smile, shrugging his shoulders. 

“You’ll have more to worry about than wolves, Princess.” His tone is humorous. He salutes me, then turns his mount and begins making his way back across the field. 

I lift the cloak from the forest floor, dusting the pine needles off. Whatever he put in it falls to the ground as I sweep the cloak over my shoulders, fastening it in place. A dagger, curved and brutal. Made of the black metal of the North. It’s as long as my forearm. I know he must have given these to me as a mockery, but I can’t help feeling a little grateful. 

I grip the dagger in one hand and begin walking, getting swallowed by the darkness.

11/21/2020 Raven Far From Home

 A flock of birds circled above me, waiting for the carnage to end so they could get their meal. The air was dense, the smell of rain mixing with the smell of blood. It felt like a blanket, wrapping around me and coaxing my body to relax.

A bird broke away from the flock and dove towards me. I realized as she drew closer that she was a raven, black feathers iridescent in the fading light. The light shifted around her, as if she didn’t belong to this world. 

Calm entered my body as I raised a hand to the sky. The Raven landed, talons pressing into my wrist. She turned a beady eye towards me, waiting. 

My fist pressed into my wound, as if that could stop the bleeding. I was light headed from blood loss. Past the point of no return. We shouldn’t have ever been here in the first place, following our foolish king into this war.

The sound of metal clashing felt distant, although it surrounded me. Faintly, I could hear the screams of my brothers falling around me. 

“Tell him...to find me in the After.” I whispered softly. 

The raven scanned my face, and I swear I saw a flicker of sadness in her eye. She opened her wings and lifted from my hand, soaring North. 

Towards home. 

I closed my eyes, trying to draw out my final moments. I inhaled deeply, letting the feel of an incoming storm fill my lungs. 

The first raindrop touched my face as I let my final breath out, feeling the pull of my soul leaving my body.

11/30/2020 "I don't want to be ladylike. I want to lure men to their deaths."

 Bernulf guided his stallion down the path. His journey was almost over, he would reach the castle within the hour. The next day he would be married, and officially become the Crown Prince to the kingdom. He had worked his whole life, weaseling his way up the ranks of nobility until he was in the king’s pocket. He then slowly made his way to the princess’s side, charming her until she practically begged her father to allow their union. Everything he had spent his life working for was finally in his lap. 

An ear shattering scream pierced through the quiet of the forest. His stallion jumped, nearly knocking him off. Bernulf dismounted and drew his sword, scanning the forest. A young woman burst through the trees and dove into his arms, weeping. He grabbed her roughly by the arms and held her away. 

“Get a hold of yourself!” He snapped. “What is going on?!” 

The damsel trembled in his arms. Her face was smeared with mud, her dress torn and tattered, showing mud smeared legs and bare feet. Underneath the grime, she was a beauty. Her eyes large and moss green, her body thin and soft in all the right places. 

She grasped his arms desperately, her eyes filling with tears. “There’s a man trying to hurt me, he’s following me. Please, please help me!”

Bernulf looked at the forest behind her. There was nothing there. But her disheveled appearance and frantic countenance were hard to ignore. Plus the possibility of adding the rescue of a damsel in distress to his list of appealing traits was attractive. Who knew, maybe she would be grateful enough to offer him a reward.  His eyes moved to the shadow of her breasts at that thought. 

He swept his cloak from his shoulders grandly and wrapped it around the girl, brushing his fingers against her chest. He guided her to a fallen tree to the side of the path and helped her sit. His eyes roved over her, something nagging at the back of his mind. There was something familiar about this girl. 

“There is no need to cry, milady.” Bernulf clasped her hand gently in his and planted a kiss in her palm. “I will rescue you from this evil.” 

Holding his sword out in front of him, Bernulf walked into the trees, every sense tuned in to the smallest movement or sound. The forest was dead quiet at his approach, no sign of danger. He scanned the forest floor, following the trodden foliage from the girl’s wild approach. 

“You’re gonna get it when I find you, girl!” A man’s voice reached him finally, along with the sound of someone crashing through the trees. The voice yelled, cursing roughly. He could hear the girl whimpering weakly behind him. 

Bernulf raised the tip of his sword into the air and took a step towards the yells. Suddenly, a cord wrapped around his ankles and he was yanked off his feet, landing hard on his stomach. Somebody dove onto his back and wrenched his arms back, binding them deftly. The stranger sat on his back, sinking his weight into him heavily. 

“What is the meaning of this?!” Bernulf roared, straining against his ties. 

Twigs snapped as someone approached. A pair of bare feet stood in front of his face, and his heart sank. 

A trick. 

“You can get off of him now, Weasel.”  The  damsel said behind him. The trembling in her voice was gone, replaced by something cold and calculating. 

The weight shifted, and Bernulf was dragged into an upright position. His captor stood behind him, pressing a knee between his shoulders and holding the collar of his shirt in an iron grip. The girl stood before him, her entire countenance changed. Her lips curved upward and her hip cocked, causing something in his memory to stir. 

The girl stepped forward, gripping his chin in her fingers hard enough to bruise. Her eyes flashed angrily. “Don’t you recognize me, Prince?”

She leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. The feel of her mouth, the sweet smell of her, triggered a vague memory. A drunk night in the tavern with his mates. A young girl drinking from his poisoned glass. That same girl, crying as he coaxed her into his bed. The dead look in her eyes when he stole her virtue from her. 

Bernulf blinked, fear setting into his gut. The girl’s smile stretched into a grin and her eyes hardened as realization dawned on him. 

“Th...the tavern,” Bernulf stammered, “I was drunk, I...I would never!” 

The girl’s hand connected with the side of his face hard, nearly knocking him over. He stopped talking as a knife pressed against his neck. The large figure standing behind him cackled gleefully. 

“You hurt me,” the girl hissed, “and now you want to hurt our Princess.” The knife’s point broke skin, and warm blood seeped into Bernulf’s shirt. Her grin grew sinister as the knife slowly pushed deeper. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, her lips brushing against his skin. 

“Men like you deserve to die.”

11/29/2020 It Unnerves People. I Like That.

 Ciro’s hooves hit the cobbled walkways with sharp clicks.. The streets are completely deserted, curtains pulled tightly shut. Every once in a while, I see the shifting of a fabric as a villager peeks out at me. Because of this, I chose my wardrobe carefully. I wear a red dress, the deep color of blood. Black lace lines the edges. The dress offers full coverage of my skin, but is shaped in a way that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. It causes my ivory skin to stand out harshly. My dark brunette hair is looped intricately on top of my head. I look tempting. Tempting and deadly. 

We pass the last house and stop at the edge of the town square. In the center sits a dark stone altar. A young girl sits in the center, arms wrapped around her knees. She’s young, perhaps fifteen years old. Her legs are dirty under her simple white shift, the black swirls of paint signifying her status as a blood slave stand out starkly against her skin. She begins to shake when she sees me, her eyes filling with tears. 

I smile, my blood singing at the sight of such a pretty little thing. I am surprised at her bravery, despite the tears. Most sacrifices have to be tied down, but she sits there of her own will. A rare offering. 

Ciro blows out a breath and walks towards her, stopping at the base of the altar so I can dismount. He is familiar with our monthly ritual, and needs no guidance.  

“Shhh little one. There is nothing to fear.” I stop in front of the girl, examining her carefully. She gives off an aura of innocence, but there is steel behind her eyes. I am intrigued and a little excited. 

I place one arm under her knees and the other under her back, lifting her up easily and placing her behind the saddle. I settle in front of her and nudge Ciro forward, back the way we came.

Wailing starts when we exit the village. Likely the cries of her family. The sound is soothing to me. 

“You are a brave one. A worthy offering.” I reach back and pat the cold trembling hand of the girl reassuringly. She jerks her hand away from my skin and inhales sharply, repulsed by the unnatural feel of my skin. A small smile flits across my lips, pleased. 

Picture by: Danila-Neroznak (deviantart)

11/24/2020 Cloaked Figure On Stairs

 Elandria’s footsteps fell quietly on the stairs. She paused to scan the forest below, searching for any sign of the creature. She had lost him in the forest, but as guardian of this tower, he would be here soon. He wouldn’t be a problem, but she preferred not to harm him. 

She turned back to the stairs and jumped out of her skin. There sat the creature, his tail swishing in the air. He sat poised, watching her with hungry eyes, daring her to make a move. 

Elandria clutched the tungsten dagger in her hand, not moving a muscle.

“You are brave,” the creature hissed, his voice deep and gravely, “but you are foolish. And that will be your downfall.” He stood up on his hind legs and took a step closer, tucking his stone colored wings neatly against his back. 

Elandria took a slow step back, brandishing her weapon. Her eyes narrowed and her lips curved slightly in a smile. “You have mistaken me for one of your usual victims,” she said, “I am Elandria of the Golden Forest, and I command you to step aside.” 

The creature hissed as the knife began to glow. The air crackled with magick.

He let out a deep rumbling growl, then launched himself at her, stone teeth bared. A burst of light shot from the knife, straight into the creature’s chest. The force of it launched him back. He slammed against the wall, shuddering, and then shattered. Grey stone shattered, flying in all directions. 

Elandria held up a hand, shielding her face from the spray of rock. Her smile widened as she ran up the rest of the steps, taking two at a time. 

At the top of the tower was a heavy cage. Inside was an altar, carved with the runes of the Gods. A warrior lay on his back, fast asleep. He wore heavy leather armor and a sword on his chest, clasped between two scarred hands. Beneath his dark beard, his skin was turning ashen from all the years of endless sleep. 

They thought they could keep him from her. They thought they could lock him away in the darkest corner of the kingdom, and she would be helpless to find him. 

Elandria set the lantern on the ground and slid the door open, stepping inside. Gently, she laid her hands over his.  

“Duhrak of the Cold Mountains, I release you from your sleep.” She leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on his lips. Power seeped from her fingers into his rough hands. 

She opened her eyes, meeting the dark eyes of her Beloved. 

Prompt