#spiraled eyes and heart shaped dizzy clouds spinning over their heads

[omgkalyppso]

Snippet Sunday

Earlier I was waiting for someone to tag me because I always feel guilty starting an @ chain, and then I napped, and now it's almost midnight! So! If you want to post something today or tomorrow and @ me I'll definitely reblog it. Have some Mermaid AU, which is chapter 3 of my fic The Crest Of The Waves, featuring my ot4.

1,522 words under the cut. The WIP is 2,874 words so far. When I started I was like. How'm I going to hit 7k like I did for chapters one and two, but now I'm like. Oh. This is how. asjfhdgajksdh

My mermaids now have influences of: the mermaids from the movie Hook, Abe Sapien from the Del Toro Hellboy movies, The Little Mermaid, birds, dolphins, fighting fish, koi, zebra turkeyfish, and random magic.

.

His body wanted to rise, wanted to be at the surface of the water, where there was air, where the salt would carry him. Claude couldn’t imagine what the mermaids were going to do with him after the storm, what he would do with nothing to hold onto, but that was a hypothetical for the future. For now he had an arm around Hilda, and Lorenz was pushing a pike across his shoulders, forcing him down faster than Hilda could guide him into the murky black of the midnight ocean.

The first monstrous wave revealed the reason for their hurry. The pressure of the water knocked the breath from Claude, the one he’d been holding, and he was choking as the water sent him and Hilda spiraling helplessly. She cradled him as best she could against the dizzying torrent, but already Claude felt again how vulnerable he was, as Fae came forward and pressed a white spark against his forehead. That relieved some of the pressure, but still there was no air. He wondered if they even realized, if they even knew, with their seemingly magical ability to breathe both air and water.

He tried to wrestle himself from Hilda, to gesture at his throat, but she and Fae held him fast and forced him down again, racing against time and nature, gambles Claude had once known never to make. He held his breath, his non-breath, the breath he’d lost and the water that burned in his throat and his lungs, even if his eyes and orifices felt more relaxed after the magical intervention.

They were trying to help him. They had. For a short while, he’d survived the hazards of being left at sea. His prospects felt as bleak as the nothingness that spread out before him.

When they reached a safer depth, Fae and Hilda stopped and spun Claude between them. He could see the way the water frothed high above him in the waves, mystical and threatening, but he could barely see the mermaids right in front of him, and wondered if that was only because of the light. The spinning had him feeling queasy, but it was nothing compared to the strain in his chest, the faltering of his heart.

Fae’s hand lit in white light again, and down here, in their element, the mermaids looked truly monstrous, wide dark eyes, sturdy, confident movement against the force of the water, large powerful shapes that drifted around him.

Fae gestured with their free hand to their lips, puckering them with a deep groaning noise that would not have left a human mouth, and Claude found himself even more taken aback when they seemed to think this had been sufficient warning before Hilda braced him still as Fae drifted in to kiss him.

He wanted to cough again, as air filled his mouth and his lungs, but suppressed it beyond a shake of his body, a convulsion bubbling the water around him. Idly, he wondered how the mermaids knew they could do these things.

Hilda trilled, and Claude worried he might be subject to a kiss of death. Were they jealous? Would he find himself impaled? Would their magic otherwise trap him beneath the waves?

Hilda clung to his shoulders through the thin material of his shirt and twisted him to face her, and Claude felt his heart relax. She looked as sympathetic as Fae had, not murderous, and he curled his hands up over her elbows as she kissed him next, a second breath, and then a third from Fae.

It was harder for Lorenz to see Claude as a prospective villain then, as Claude hovered on the brink of safety, as he moved slowly, weakly, delicately. Claude might’ve panicked, and forced kisses and contact and gulps of air, or fought away to the surface, taking his chances with the storm, but instead he trusted, and floated nervously, and Lorenz felt that jealousy was not appropriate or even reasonable. Even as Fae held the side of his face, even as Hilda steadied him in the water, all he could feel was concern.

He approached the others, and laid a hand on Fae’s back so that they slipped aside.

“We can’t take him too deep,” they worried.

“We can’t stay here either,” he answered.

Lorenz pressed two fingers firmly to Claude’s lips when Hilda slipped away from him, trying to signal the likelihood of needing to hold his breath for longer. He caressed them down below his chin through the beard growth and against his throat, and felt more deeply the resignation in Claude’s posture, like a whale who’d spent too long in a fishing net.

He pressed his mouth to Claude’s lips, one last breath of air, and then linked his arm under Claude’s, holding him around his back, as he forced them onwards, a slow descent to the east.

Fae doused the light in their hand, and Claude’s vision held the shapes of skin and the purple of Lorenz’s silhouette as he tightened his grip around Lorenz’s opposite side, surprised when their momentum curled him closer. It was a strange thing, to be falling horizontally, with no line of sight on an empty horizon, the only sounds the strange churning overhead when a particularly large wave crashed into itself.

Something touched him, the back of his shoulder, and whether living or dead or plant life or debris, it set his skin to crawling, and Claude let go of the last of his reservations — survival had no room for them. He shifted up against Lorenz, mesmerized by the size of him and how all of his direction and propulsion came from his tail, and bent his knee up over a human hip, hiding himself in the shadow of a figure he could barely see.

Lorenz lost no momentum as he slid his pike into the threads on his back, and used his now free hand to pull Claude up closer, and then to tilt Claude’s head back, brown curls soft in the ocean, as he pressed an extra kiss to Claude’s lips, another breath.

“Don’t pass out,” Lorenz said, heedless of the language barrier, wincing sympathetically as Claude was festooned with bubbles as he tried to exhale, and kissed him once more, wondering how long they could keep up this circle.

“His heartbeat’s slowing,” Hilda observed.

“His lungs are shifting too,” Lorenz informed his companions, a hand on Claude’s back telling him as much. “The pressure…”

Fae and Hilda swam in circles, looking up at where the storm raged and worsened in the leagues of water overhead.

“It might work in our favor,” Lorenz said quickly. “If he has fewer breaths to take.” Claude’s eyes were closed now, and between the darkness and the weight of the water, Lorenz couldn’t blame him. He pressed more air past his sealed lips.

“Should we stop moving him?” asked Fae. “And just wait out the storm?”

“I don’t know,” Lorenz said, sad.

“All of our options are terrible,” Hilda whined, swimming in a large semicircle ahead of Lorenz, “I think we should go with the less strenuous one. Let his body deal with one less challenge.”

“The duration of the storm may be against us,” Lorenz fretted, letting himself slow, because he had no reason to argue against her.

Fae fluttered up in front of him and trailed their hands over Claude’s shoulders around to the man’s elbows. “His blood is already struggling to reach his extremities.”

“I—” Lorenz hesitated, watching — feeling — as Claude convulsed in his arms from holding his breath for too long, his knee clenching around him. Lorenz pressed another breath into Claude as they drifted still, more or less. Fae was kissing him next, as Lorenz continued, “Fine. Take him for a moment.”

Fae carefully plucked Claude from Lorenz, and though he felt safe being pulled from one mermaid to the next — or even if he hadn’t, he had no fight left to struggle from the hands pulling his arms back — he let his eyes drift open by a hair, to try and assess what was happening. In the deeper black, he watched as the barbs of Lorenz’s spines, and the edges of his fins, came aglow in red, a few bubbles rising around him and catching the color as they floated up to the surface of the water, barely visible to Claude with the storm clouds trapping the moonlight far away.

The purple on Lorenz’s tail was black, lighter shades looking grey and red under the light, his hands and stomach ominous in the glow.

The hands on Claude’s back grew more numerous, and Fae and Hilda’s hair floated around him, spectral and surreal in the red light, and they guided him forward, positioning his hands upon fins and around barbs so that he could cling to the magical warmth of Lorenz’s tail without cutting himself. He felt Lorenz's fingers gently caress the top of his head, and Claude let his eyes close again, met with the occasional breath, kisses of contact, as dread was replaced with pliancy, patience and exhaustion.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer Chapter 15: Hindsight

Tonight was the night Isaac died and my journey would truly begin. There was nothing I could do about it. 

The violence of the moment haunted my dreams: the screams, the blood, the uncontrollable urge to viciously attack those people until they stopped moving. My pulse raced with the memories. My head ached, wrestling with the idea that even with my father’s powers there was nothing I could do to change anything.

Confined to my floor, dancing was my only outlet. The hardwood of the hallway and the full length windows served as a nice place to stretch and do exercises. Counting out the rhythm forced my mind away from the coming carnage and instead on the point of my toes.

Snow swirled from the clouds, sending a blinding blanket over the city. From the highrise, visibility was near zero and the windows rattled against the blustery gales.

Previous Chapter

Go Back to the Beginning

My servitor guard drifted behind the glass like an aimless cloud , watching me, following my movements with its intense stare.  It lifted one tendril like limb against the glass, drawing it downward across my body.

“Ielia?”

She swirled out of my necklace, floating in mid-air, hair adrift on some intangible wind.

 “I want to know what happened to this person. Is there any way to talk to it?”

She nodded, smiling, and drifted past me into my bedroom. She instructed me to take a pen and follow her finger to draw on the wall of the room. With her help, I traced around a circle, added triangular shapes and swirling tick marks. In a few moments, I’d drawn some sort of pentagram style shape. My father's scale grew warm against my skin as I gazed at it. 

Like Isaac's medallion in the Cassell library, it reacted to the drawing on the wall.

Echoing voices and ghostly figures surrounded me. I saw a woman. I recognized her as the matriarch, years younger, walking in the hall, passing by the door. She was walking next to two other men. I followed her out and hear their voices.

“This research is my life’s work,” Said one of the men. He wore a fancy suit spangled with what looked like military medals. “With it, we’ll be able to make powerful hybrids capable of not only defeating the Dark King, but also becoming what we need to finally unite the world.”

“Ambitious.” said the other man, who looked a bit like Isaac but much older. “I’m honored you’ve decided to use our alchemical facility and invest in our company…”

The matriarch was equally enthused. “With this investment we’ll finally be able to meet our growth targets and beyond. But … I still would like to ask why you picked us?”

Before I could think about it further, I heard more voices behind me.  “An accident?”

I whirled, startled. It was her again, the matriarch. Her voice was on the verge of tears on the phone. “But how? I’ll be there right away.”

Her image dissipated into thin air. More voices reached my ears, this time coming from the bedroom.

Walking back in, I saw a vision of the older man who had been so honored to work with the guy with the medals. He was lying in the bed that I slept in, receiving IV treatments. “Are you sure this is going to work? He doesn’t seem to be getting any better,” said the Matriarch who was standing at his side.

I was plunged into darkness. A little girl’s voice was close to my ear. “Daddy?”

A tiny body lay on the floor, missing her head.  I heard the matriarch screaming, “Charlotte!  Charlotte!” Her voice rising and breaking in pain and terror.

Standing over her was my servitor guardian. The bed was covered in blood, the IV drip tipped over.

The gong of the grandfather clock broke the visions, setting my heart racing. The lights never came back on. I reached over to flip a switch but nothing happened. The power had gone out in truth.

As I stared out into the blizzard, a winged shadow grew larger and larger until the glass shattered and the shards mixed with the sparkling snow on the carpet.  A hulking beast with glowing red eyes and clawed hands at the end of long muscular arms let out a low threatening snarl. 

Before I could scream, my servitor guardian wrapped it in its own wraith-like body. Red blood flowed from the intruder’s neck down its shoulders and onto the carpet. The monster fell forward, its head missing from its body.

Breathless with terror, I ran from the room to get to the elevator. I skidded to a halt. The elevator door was open and a tall figure of a man dressed in a kimono stood in it. It was then that I found my voice.

As the screams tore from my throat, he ran toward me, his body distorted, stretching as he grew nearer, the flying folds of his large sleeves flaring out like wings. He was almost on me by the time I turned to run. The hall in front of me twisted into a spiral and I staggered into the wall as if drunk.

An arm grabbed me around my waist and jerked me toward the windows.  My paralyzed limbs didn’t respond to my efforts to fight. My voice had gone silent despite my efforts to continue calling for help.

He raised a sword and smashed it against the glass. He climbed atop the pane. My head was dangling in the cold and the wind, spinning twenty stories up. The snow was falling past me, down into the streets below.

The next moment, I was back inside. I hit the floor, my head bouncing off the hardwood so hard I saw stars. I dug the heels of my hands in, scrambling away, breathless. Behind me, the attacker and the servitor were locked in a furious wrestling. The faint moonlight illuminated his platinum blond hair and the half mask over his eyes.

He ran his sword through the heart of my guardian and it went limp, its smoky appearance starting to drift upward and lift like fog.

I whimpered when he turned his attention back to me, his eyes red and bright in the dark, his expression blank. He strode forward. 

I threw out my hands and felt his dragon’s blood, deep and powerful like an ocean tide. Far stronger than what was in the child I’d healed. Despite its strength, I called out my father’s words, “Release!”

That fire that burned at the young Tobias set the dragon in him ablaze and brought him to his knees, groaning in pain. I got to my feet and kicked his sword away, grabbing it myself. As I backed away, I was startled by a pair of golden eyes in the window.  I dropped the sword. The metal blade clattered to the floor.  “Johann?!”

It wasn’t Johann. The face in the window was my face. The gold eyes were my eyes. I was the one holding the sword.

A strong pulse went through my head. I turned to my attacker. The mask had fallen off and I could see his face was pale because it was covered in white makeup. He looked up at me, reaching out in a pleading gesture. “What… what have you done to me…?”

I dropped to my knees, beset by visions of two little boys dancing and playing together, one saying to the other. “Wait for me, Chisei!”

“Chisei? Chisei Gen?” Behind that vision was an intense loneliness. I felt the crushing weight of it.  "Where am I?" 

“In my dream, my memory…” I heard the man in the kimono’s voice but I couldn’t see him, only two boys, playing together in a grassy field.

“Chisei and I were together, as brothers. But while he became the heir to the Clan Chief, I was a Devil and cast out by my family.”

“Who are you? What do you want with me?” My eyes searched for where he was, but he wasn’t visible.

“I am Ruri Kazama. I … I don’t know how I got here. I think I was supposed to take you with me. That’s all I know.” He sounded confused.

The scenery of children morphed until I was in a dimly lit stone room. The only furniture was an old table, a chair, a bed, a few scattered toys. I can see him now walking over to one of the toys, a stuffed bear, looking down at it.

“This is the place where I grew up, alone. He never visited me in the secret mountain village.”

“Where the Devil children are locked away?” I retreat until my back was against the wall, searching for a way out.

“Yes…” He looked at me in surprise. “...how do you know this? Are you hearing my thoughts?” He flinched, arms wrapping about his abdomen, doubling over. “My powers… I’ve lost control of them. What did you do?”

I started to feel worried that I’d actually hurt him but I was afraid to approach in case he tried to attack me again.

Ruri Kazama's gaze unfocused, and he turned away, staggering to lean against the wall. “I’m seeing your memories… Chisei… he’s killing members of the Devil Clan? I don’t remember this…”

“It hasn’t happened yet… It happens soon… I want to save the children from him…”

We both awoke at the same time. Ruri Kazama was on the floor, one hand clutching his head, teething grinding together. He had broken out into a cold sweat. I slowly got to my feet and backed away. 

A pair of hands seized my shoulders from behind. I jerked to get away but they held fast.

“Ah, so this is why I was asked to come along on this mission… because you’re too fragile to capture a little girl.”

As soon as I wrestled myself free, I caught a blow to my jaw. My ears rang and my whole face went numb. Dizzy, I staggered to the floor.

“Honestly… no wonder I have a higher body count.”

I raised my eyes to a face that sent such a chill through me I cried out. It was the man from the park. The one who strangled me. My whole body started to tremble. This time, Chisei wasn’t here to save me. I would have gone back in time only to die in the past.

The sight of my wide-eyed terror made him smile. Gleeful, he tittered like a child.  “Ah… she looks like fun. Too bad this one is so valuable to Osho’s Blade that he would probably kill me if I left a mark on her.”

Two servitors were behind him, one was holding an unconscious Tobias, the other was dragging Lukas along by his arm.

The way he was leering at me was the same as before when he dragged me into the woods by my foot. “Come along, little one…” He bent over to take hold of me.

I pushed myself against the wall, cowering away from him.

He would have succeeded were it not for Ruri Kazama. He was back on his feet. His Speaking Spirit poured out of him again, and we were all plunged into a nightmare scenario. 

We were in an institution with dozens of other children. They screamed, struggled, and cried as they were injected with needles. A hand, larger than life, reached for me. I struggled to keep away from it, but I was powerless.

I stared up towards a window into a night sky filled with stars and the colorful lights of the Aurora Borealis. I’d seen those stars so many times, I knew them by heart because I focused on them while I was injected again… and again… and again...

These weren’t my memories, they were his. My attacker’s. 

“Kazamaaaaa!” He shrieked. “You Bastard! STOP! STOP IT!” Roaring with despair, he fled from me and down the hall. Kazama, faster than my eye could follow, retrieved his sword and cut down the two servitor beasts holding my friends captive.

“You need to get out of here.” He told me, “If you don’t leave now, you’ll never have another chance. Once Osho’s Blade gets you, you won’t be able to escape.” He stood in the dark, blood running in rivulets down his blade to form a puddle on the floor.

“I can’t go back to Cassell!” I cried with despair. 

“Then is there somewhere else?”

I looked into his crimson eyes. “Those memories you showed me. Is the place still there? Still like that?”

He gave me a puzzled look. “Yes…”

“Are there children there?” 

“Yes, the mountain village is… but you shouldn’t go there.” He shook his head. “It’s dangerous.”

I stood up. “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.” I felt I was acting blindly, flailing into the dark, jumping off a bridge into surging waters, unsure if I could swim.

I ran to Lukas and Tobias and took their hands. There was nothing I could say to warn them that we were going to get them and the children trapped by the Devil Clan out of harm’s way. I didn’t have time to explain. Like a canary, faced with an open cage and an open window, I darted into the unknown.

I closed my eyes and focussed on Japan, on that room with the table and chairs.

Silence and cold descended in a black curtain. I counted out the seconds. One… two… three…

We reemerged, staggering into the room Ruri had shown me in vision. I panted like I'd just climbed flights of stairs. I looked at Lukas and Tobias. Tobias was awake and trembling with terror. Lukas looked disoriented. "There are more children here. But first I need to heal you, Lukas. If you use your dragon strength you might turn like Isaac did."

Lukas leaned his hand against the ground, staring at me with wide eyes, searching for answers. "I don't understand any of this."

"Your grandmother was planning on selling my eggs to some doctor but I guess kidnapping me was a cheaper option.” I paused, reaching up and placing my hands on his face. "This will hurt for a moment…." I opened my mouth to that draconic language.

Lukas flinched away as though hit by an electric shock.  He staggered back, staring at me, then he groaned and sank to the floor.

I looked at him with sympathy but I didn’t apologize. "The Cassell College will work with their Japan division tomorrow night to wipe out the Devil Clan.  We need to get the children trapped here healed and gone before they get here." 

“What did you do?”  He was visibly shaking and unable to stand. “This hurts…” 

“Your dragon’s blood is high purity like mine. You’re unstable like Isaac was. I used my Speaking Spirit on you, like I did on Tobias.” I moved to a window and peer outside. “This is where Japanese unstable children are held. If I don't free them, they’re going to die with the rest of the Devil Clan. Can you help me?”

“We’re in Japan? But how?! Why did you bring us here!” He stared at me in wide-eyed shock.

“You were getting kidnapped by bad people!” I can feel my breath rising with all of the unexpected questions that I couldn’t answer. “And these kids need my help! I don’t have time to explain!”

He got up, coming towards me, hands balled into fists. “Explain now!”

I take a step back away from him, my back was against the wall. “I can move through space. Through gates. I think the Nibelungen ones.” I stammered for an explanation but the truth was I didn’t know how and I wasn’t about to explain where I got my powers from.

“How!” He loomed over me and I found myself cowering again.

“I just can okay! Please, are you going to help me or…” I stood up straighter. “...or should I just leave you here!” At that moment, I knew I threatened him. I felt guilty, but I didn’t know what else to do.

He swallowed hard. We stood in silence for a few seconds before he finally gave in. “Alright.”

Shaking with nervous emotion, I sent Ielia to scout outside. The village was dark and looked empty but she returned looking panicked and gestured frantically. “Servitors?”

She nodded. 

"Are we gonna die?" Tobias whimpered, clinging to his brother.

"Stay in here." Lukas gave him a comforting hug.

"Can you hold those servitors off until I rescue them?" I asked.

“I can, I’ve been trained to be able to fight.” Admirably, Lukas went outside and blew a loud whistle through his fingers. The hulking reptilian giants turned and immediately pursued him.

He spoke in clear draconic, “Speaking Spirit: Blessing of Ice!”  and a large whirlwind bearing shards of ice blew into them, knocking them back, cutting and impaling them. It was an impressive sight.

I dashed as fast as I could into dark and dingy housing. My twin used the bright spear to knock down locked doors. I hurried to the rose of cages. There was no time to really explain to the youngsters what was going on, why this strange person was breaking them free, so they screamed and kicked and bit at me until I returned them into the room with Tobias.

The raging dragon blood in my body was changing me. My skin was itching. My eyesight was blurring.  I forced myself not to think about it. My nerves, my heart strained every time I used Release to halt the progression of the children’s instability. I detached myself from their pain and fear. I didn't want them to turn into monsters on the jump to another place. If I didn’t do this, they were going to die, sooner or later. That’s what I told myself. After about thirty minutes, I'd managed to collect about a dozen. 

Tobias was brave, trying to calm the growing crowd of terrified and crying youngsters. "Don't cry." He said. "Charlotte saved me. She'll save you too."

“Charlotte?” I asked, confused.

“Yes, that’s the name my Grandmother started calling you. Charlotte Ouroboros Comemnus…”

I wrinkled my nose. “What an ugly name. Charlotte’s… okay I guess.” I filed it away as yet another placeholder.

Lukas returned to me. "There's more servitors coming! We have got to go." 

Out of time, I turned to my dirty disheveled rescues. They were huddled together, staring at me, wide eyed with fear.

For a brief moment, I wanted to return with them to Cassell. But I was still there at that time, on a plane flight to Japan. They would wonder how I could be two places at once. I didn’t know how they would react if they found out I was the daughter of a dragon, of the enemy. I didn’t know how my father would react if I told them.

I knelt in front of the group. I was so tired. They cowered away from me clinging to one another.

"Alright everyone, we're going to be free. I'm taking you so you don't have to live in cages any more." I looked at them all in turn. "I know you're scared, so everyone hold hands. Lukas, make sure they're all holding tight to each other."

A few of them began to cry, a roar came terribly close.

I took a deep breath and focussed, closing my eyes, lowering my head. One by one, the stars I saw in the vision of the lab pinpointed their way into an inky black sky in my imagination. Things were suddenly clear in my head. I could see where I was going. Only it was far, so very far. 

The world turned dark and cold.

One… two… three…

A heaviness overcame me. I felt like I was sinking. This felt wrong. I grew more and more frightened as I lingered in that cold and frigid darkness.

I was losing grip on my thoughts. My focus on my destination was fading. I pulled hard with all the strength I had left, my mind reaching through the dark, to the pinpoint of light, the goal.

The sound of rushing wind filled my ears. Warm sea air hit my senses. I was laying in the grass. 

"Charlotte!" I heard Lukas say, fear in his voice.

He was scared, scared for me. My hands, they were claws! My skin had turned scaly. I was still turning into a servitor? No, I couldn’t! Not now!

"Release!" I focussed the words on myself now. The fury of my dragon's body burst inside collapsing me. The head-on impact of the words against the full momentum of my blood rage sent me spinning with pain . It hurt so much I couldn't breathe or scream, or think.

I choked, letting out strangled gasps from air. I wanted to pass out. I wanted to die.

My vision dimmed. With my strength leaving, I squeezed a voice out of my dry throat. "Did we make it?"

His answer sounded far away as I sank under waves of pain. "We made it."

Next Chapter

[freyalor]

Word prompt- Ducks! The campus ducks have been out in full force today and are actually adorable, so ducks are somewhat on my mind.

This hasn’t been an easy one. But @lustigs-maerchenland has been pushing me up to the challenge for the very specific reason that you gave the same prompt to both of us!

So here’s my piece!  Have fun comparing!

A few deaths too many.

Fandom : History of FrancePairing : Louis/RichelieuDate : 1632Words : 3KRating : G

Blam!

Thedeafening gunshot makes me jump, gasping a little, and I force myselfsteady by crossing my arms tight.

Thesmell of powder hurts my throat. I hide my flinch with a sharp cough.

Nextto me, so close I can see the small clouds formed by his breath inthe raging cold, he yells in triumph, handing the musket back toTreville.Far away, somewhere beyond the poplars, a bird fallslike a stone, giving a series of faint thumps as it hits the radiantfoliages of early autumn.

Thehunting squires immediately spur their horses and disappear into thewoods in search for the small body, and soon enough one of them comesback galloping towards us, brandishing a lifeless bunch of feathers.

-“CongratulationsYour Majesty!” The boy exults as he presents the dead bird to him,head first, paws tucked back.

Itis – itwasamagnificent mallard, vibrant with lively hues of green and blue, hisbeak a masterpiece of bright yellow. A beautiful creature, just asGod has wanted it, well, until a musket bullet, made to piercethrough steel armours, tore a good half of his insides open wide.

It’snot even fit to be consumed. It’s dead. That’s all it is.

TheKing still turns to me, beaming joy, his dark hair flying wild uponthe nasty October winds, and I silently thank the bird, for what it’sworth, for having at least made this man happy. Times have been roughwith him lately, his duties forcing him twice to execute a man whoused to be very dear to him. Marillac, last August, andMontmorency, last week.

Myefforts have been numerous - andthey can be, trust me, of quite various natures– inthe hope of bringing back that smile to his lips, but my Louis is ahunter, and though he can never be indifferent to my wits andaffection, eventually, sooner or later, his pain has to be healed infresh, warm blood.

Hegestures at the dead duck with radiant pride, and I nod subtly,bowing to his deadly aim.

Helaughs, then, spins around and reaches out for Treville. The Captainreloads the musket in six expert moves and hands it back to theKing.

-“Splendidweapon, Captain!” Louis praises, and the Musketeer clicks hisheels.

-“Indeed,Your Majesty.” He muses. “A few of those in my regiment would bequite a blessing.”

Withthat, IknowTrevilleis looking at me. That’s why I very ostensibly avert my eyes.

ForGod’s sake we have talked about this a thousand times. The treasurywill never allow me to give such an expensive weapon to each andevery one of his trained dogs. They will be kept for the Royal Army’sinfantry, and that’s final. His boys spend more time running aroundwith pistols and swords than handling any kind of musketsanyways.

Trevillegrunts something under his breath, and I’m not sure it isappropriate, but I know better than to spoil my King’s newly-foundjoy with pointless bickering.

Holdingthe long, delicately chiseled weapon firmly in his arms, Louis keepshis narrowed eyes to the skies, and what he’s waiting for doesn’tfail to come. Indeed, a wave of dreadful cold has crashed uponFrance from up North, and we are in full migration season. Theskyline of Versailles is constantly crossed by graceful formations ofducks, escaping the cruelty of winter for the warmer climate of theMediterranean Sea.

Ilook up to marvel at the V-shaped battalion gently passing over themeadow. The birds follow their leader in perfect synchronicity,calling each other by sharp, modulated cries. I have seen amonghumans, I fear, less orderly regiments.

Iwon’t admire the birds for long. Louis is already clicking thematchlock, aiming, firing.

Blam!

Ijump again, biting my lips upon a whimper, cursing my nerves one moretime.

Thebirds squeak and scatter in confusion, disappearing from our sight inmere seconds. Two of them won’t have this chance, spiralling to theground in broken trajectories.

-“Ha!”Louischeers. “Have you seen that? Two of them!”

Again,the squires ride around. Again, horribly mutilated ducks are proudlybrought back to us. My King discusses the efficiency of the musketwith Treville some more, but as he turns to me, it really seems theonly thing he truly hopes for is my approval.

Andmy approval I gladly give, speaking my admiration for his skill,restraining my speech since he despises obsequiousness or fawning. Heseems to like my choice of words and laughs softly, making my heartswell in inescapable warmth.

Iam glad, I really am, to see him naturally blissful, comfortable outthere in the open, away from the palace of lies the Louvre willalways be. But I fear that beyond the pleasure of the hunt itself,this wild, feral man is also trying to impress me with his aim, theway the tradition of his bloodline most surely dictates.

Asif my love for him wasn’t granted forevermore.

Asif it could depend on a sad row of tattered birds.

Ifeel flattered, truly, by his will to draw my attention, and thereare indeed other men, in other places or other times, who would havebeen seduced by his unquestionable ability, but I have seen so muchblood pointlessly spilled upon French soil in my wretched lifetimethat even those ducks feel like a few deaths too many.

Soas Treville takes back the musket, reloads it with the same deftcompetence and returns it to Louis, I wish I could give the nextbirds a warning.  I wish I could spend one month of my life, oneweek, one day, without seeing something die.

Butthe meadow is well-chosen and the time of the year is perfect, so, ofcourse, merely minutes after the last gunshot, a smaller yetcolourful flock of ducks appear over the hunting lodge’s roof, and Ibrace myself, hugging my own chest, squeezing my eyes shut.

Blam!

TheKing roars. Isigh.

Anotherdead bird is laid down with the others upon a plain table behindTreville. Another artwork of nature is reduced to a pile of bloodiedflesh and broken bones. I can bear the sight of that forlorn featheryheap for so long before my stomach sinks, and I need to lower myeyes.

Iknow I have no right to look aside. I’m just being a hypocrite. Ihave signed, ordered, and designed more destruction than this musketcould ever cause. My hands are stained with the blood of moreinnocents than any hunt could ever kill. But precisely becausethe cries of those I had to sacrifice to forge a nation worthy of myKing will haunt my nights until I die, I cannot stand the blood ofthose sinless,  graceful creatures.

It’snothing more than a few deaths too many.

Asthe mighty gun is thoroughly compared to the flintlock or the heavypitchfork musket by a very enthusiastic Treville, the King spotsanother group of ducks over the Eastern woods, and snaps for theweapon to be reloaded.

Oh,please, Louis, just let them fly,I almost implore, but this sorrow I feel is but the whim of mytrouble nerves again I am sure.

Unwillingto ruin my King’s cheerfulness I keep my gaze on the ground, betweendead leaves and burgeoning mushrooms, tightening my coat around myshoulders, waiting for the killing spree to end, trying to chase awaythe ghost voices of my own damnation.

Ihear the scattered cries of migrating ducks approaching steadily, andI already bite my lips to muffle my whine at the next gunshot.

Somany deaths, so many souls. Fallen like stones upon French soil,their guts torn open by wars that needed to be waged. So many faces,so many names, waiting for me on Judgment Day, with their revengeupon their lips.

Enoughbullets, enough blood, please, Louis.I could not, in any way,love you more than I already do.

Theducks fly closer, the wind is clear.  Poplars whistle under the timidOctober light, but the thunder of gunpowder, it doesn’t come.

-”Cardinal?”

Ihave a start, my eyes snapping open, and I look up with a dry gulp.

MyKing is there, his musket suspended mid-air, watching me with aworried frown upon his soft, youthful brow. Treville, over hisshoulder, is staring too, more resigned maybe, in front of what hemust think as one more dizzy spell of mine.

ButLouis knows me more than this. He knows me as I know him, more thanhis own body, more than his own soul. He gauges my face, glances atthe ducks above, and meets my eyes again.

Ilower my head, biting my lips, ashamed to be too troubled to feelenticed by his demonstration, crushed, all of a sudden, by howdifferent we’ve always been. The flock passes right over ourheads, so close he could kill three of them in one shot. He’d be soproud, he’d be so glad, overjoyed to prove his worth on somethingless gruesome than a real battlefield. He’d yell injubilation, as the instinct of his bloodline surely dictates, butthat gunshot, itdoesn’t come.

Ilook up once more to see him exhalea long, shuddering sigh instead, and the grip of his musket gives outa muffled sound as it hits the ground between his boots.

-”Youwill never be bloody simple.”He just mutters under his breath, watching in irritation the birdsfly South with disciplined serenity.

Whenthe ducks have disappeared behind the line of high poplars, he shakeshis head a little, and hands the musket over to Treville for the lasttime.

-”Thatwill be all, Captain.” He says. “Order the boys back to thestables. I will join you for dinner in one hour.”

TheMusketeer lets out half a smile. He’s frustrated, no doubt, by theuntimely end of the new musket’s inspection, but he has just beeninvited to the King’s table, and this must mean more weaponrydiscussed later.

So,all in all, he bows quite joyfully and lays the musket back in itswooden case before he runs off to gather the squires.

We’releft alone, my King and me, as the October winds ruffle the tousledfeathers of the four ducks he destroyed. He beckons me close with asharp tilt of his head, and I take three steps forward, until mycloak, as it flaps upon the cold breeze, comes to stroke his handsand arms.

Wedon’t touch, it would be far from safe, but his eyes upon me growsoft and warm, the way they do when we’re in his rooms at night, andit’s enough to cut my breath in pieces.

-”Ifmy hunting skills only fill you with horror,” he whispers, low,dreadful, seductive,“how am I supposed to charm you?”

Ioffer a quiet smile, then, the one I know he likes.

-”Louis,”I breathe, feeling more than I see the deep shudder he always haswhen I speak his name, “don’t worry, you just did.”

Hefrowns again, panting a little, his cheeks taking a colour the coldweather alone cannot justify, and I lift one finger, pointing at theskies above Versailles, where a thin line of peaceful birds cross themeadow in gentle calls.

-”Withthe duck you didn’t kill.” I tell him, and the sound of hislaughter hunts down the ghosts of my crimes just as surely as hisfine musket would.