Short Stories

A dance with the devil

"Don't look down to me and speak as if you are the only one with problems.  You're not."

Adina snaps, her hand trailing to the dagger at her hip.

"Then don't look up to me next time, Adina."  Jasper snaps back, saying her name as if it is an awful curse.  "I will always be one step ahead of you."

"And what if I decide to walk backwards?" She challenges.

I wish I could kill without cost.
I wish my blade could sink into the heart of another and I would feel no remorse.
However I was cursed to always feel empathy, and quite a curse it had been.
I wish I could laugh without worry.
I wish my mind could be clear as glass when it came time for a decision to be made.
Yet the crown glittering upon my brow proves more then that I am strong.
I have power, no matter how much certain parties may deny it.

My footsteps are uncertain as I stroll over claimed land.  Land that I have certainly not claimed, although I intend to within the coming months.

Nevertheless, this land is not yet mine, and no matter how scared I am, I must keep my composure. 

I suddenly feel I am too far in over my head when there's a crackling sound behind me.  Someone could so easily corner me in territory I do not know, but of course, I have planned for this. 

"Hawke!  To what do I owe the pleasure?"  My voice is mocking.  It's the only way I can hide the fear lingering underneath. 

"I knew you missed me."  His amber eyes staring at me from the darkness, wearing the same patronizing smile as the last time we met like this.

"It was not you I missed, but the feeling of my dagger sinking into your skin."  I retort sharply.  He's gotten to me and I know he knows it by the smirk dancing on his face.

The way he shifts sends a shiver down my spine.  He's close.  Too close for me to relax and as he approaches, I press the tip of my dagger to his throat, my words coming out as a snarl.  "Touch me and you will die regretting it."

He doesn't seem at all surprised, raising a hand adorned with rings to move the blade away from his neck and surprisingly, I let him.

"C'mon, Rose.  Don't deny me a dance like you have taken a liking to doing so very often."  He voice is a smooth purr, but there's poison hidden behind his words.

Fearful of what he will do if I decline, I give a hesitant nod.  One of his hands moves to my back, his touch frighteningly gentle, although it feels like the tense silence before a crack of thunder.  I am tense in his arms, unnerved by the way I can't read his expression as he grabs my other hand in his.

It's terrifying, the way his skin rests gently against mine as he begins to dance, guiding me although he knows I've memorized the steps by heart.

He leans in closer, his breath warm on my neck, his words laced with poison.  "You can keep pretending you are more then you are, Rose.  But I swear to you that you are only a pawn in a game you do not understand.  You stand tall as if you have a purpose but you are simply a shadow in a land of light.  Playing pretend will do nothing to fix that."

I let him talk, let his words burn my skin like fire as I feel my heart drop.  "You're right, Hawke.  I do not understand such a game.  Nor do I tend to follow the rules."  And subtly, I take the lead, spinning him around the clearing.  And he lets me, although his words are still sharp as shards of broken glass. 

"But?"  He asks quietly, regarding me with interest for the first time tonight.

"But that should be of no problem to you.  You're hands are stained red with the blood of your closest friends, all because you felt you were dealt the superior hand."  My words take him by surprise and although his gaze betrays nothing, I can feel his grip tighten.

"Are you implying that you have also killed before, my love?"  He whispers, his voice sickly sweet.

"Of course not, my lord.  What would I have to kill for?"

Hawke's eyes shimmer unnaturally at this question, taking the lead again as we both dance to music that is only in our heads, just as our love was.  His hold on my waist tightens as he leans forward, one of his gloved hands grabbing my chin, lifting my face up to look at him.

"Oh my dear, we both know you have much to kill for."  He purrs, his amber gaze unwavering as he looks at me, a sly grin on his face.

I'm in shock, uncertain of what to say.

"Ah, but of course you are the kings perfect daughter are you not?  No loyal princess would dare to murder the Prince of Fire, would she?"

And at this, I feel defeated.  He's got the upper hand in this.  At least, as far as he knows.

We both know you have much to kill for.

"Oh but love, I'm not loyal, nor am I a princess." My words are delivered with a twisted kind of sweetness, fake enough that Hawke barely has any time to react to the knife dug deep into his stomach.

His eyes are wide as he stumbles backwards, connecting with a tree as blood pours from the wound, seeping into the grass and staining the forests beauty with the stench of blood.  His eyes are still wide as he tries to stop the blood from falling but to no avail.

In the final seconds of his life, he looks up at me.  His eyes scanning my face as if looking for something, anything, to remind him of who I once was.  But he must've found nothing, because his eyes cast down to the ground and he is gone.  His last breath having left his lunges. 

I expect to feel remorse at least, but the only thing that reaches the spot where I thought once resided my heart, is a sense of satisfaction.