Red Moon Shadow

~~Who here has read web comics? Sometimes artists will put up little filler pages, pictures that often have little to do with the actual plot or storyline. Consider this a filler page. It has nothing to do with Shadowing or Summer Fire, and I probably won’t take it farther than these three pages. (yet). But the idea of assassins, royalty and especially berserkers have always fascinated me. So hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. Thanks for the nice reviews and continued support! Bai!~~

A full moon. The clear light of it rippled across the summer gardens, outlining each leaf and full flower in pure silver. The shine skipped across the black waters of the pond, tripping up the curving walls of the palace to alight on a fair hand. The slim fingers were as pale as the light which played on them, and she was clothed in a silvery dress which was softly muted. The moon lit her pale eyes and rested lovingly on the silver circlet in her golden hair. But the beauty of the night was lost to her; her eyes were troubled, and her fair face blemished by a frown.

“No one understands me.” she sighed aloud to the silent stars. They offered no consolation.

The moonlight was unable to light all of the gardens. The shadows possessed their fair share, caressing each leaf and full flower with obsessively grasping fingers. They hid behind the glimmer of pale light, requiring and hating its presence. The shadows crept slowly onto the once lit pool, tainting it with darkness.

He understood shadows, he was one of them. They were his friends, willingly hiding him, assisting him as they did this night. He was currently upright behind a tall statue, and only a thin stream of light lit his eyes, dark holes that held a tinge of blood. He held a blackened blade in one hand, watching her.

-unwise.- his master’s voice seemed to whisper to him. But he wanted to see this girl first. She seemed upset, pacing up and down on her balcony, in her perfect dress. She kept searching the sky, as if looking for an answer. Some separate part of him wondered about her upset. -Not long now.- he thought, one eye on the clouds. As soon as one shifted, he was on the move, moving with the shadows as they stretched across the grass and well-kept pathways. The moonlight struck him once, but he put his confidence in his training, holding completely still until the light retreated. It could not chase this shadow. A mist was beginning to fall, to his good fortune.

-So trusting- he thought grimly, noting the wide open stairs that lead to her chambers. He climbed them silently, trusting in the shadows to shield him from the inquisitive light. He paused at the top of the stairs, as another cloud inched closer to the moon. He would not chance being seen. -she wont even know she was killed until she is dead.- He darted forward, keen knife striking like a snake. He heard her gasp, and was away, leaping from shadow to shadow, becoming the darkness.

He slowed at his statue, sheathing his knife. Then he saw the shadow of the guard. He swore under his breath. The soft sound of slippered feet reached his trained ears and his eyes widened momentarily, then narrowed.

“Where are you?” she called softly.

Most of him cried out to flee, but the same separate part of him that wondered what troubled her spoke. “I am here.” He was surprised at the graveliness of his voice.

“Why did you not kill me?” she asked.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you finish the job?”

-I did- he smiled ferally. But he said nothing to her.

“Are you not an assassin?”

“Of a sort.” he lowered himself to the dew-wet grass, careful to keep himself out of the light. He had a good view of her from here, and he studied the smooth curves, the inherent womanness of her. He also noted the naïve way she tried to study him. He purposefully slid a boot forward. “Are you not royalty?” he knew she was.

“Of a sort.” She stared at his face, and he wondered how much she could see. “Why didn’t you kill me? Isn’t that what you are paid to do?”

“Why are you so eager to die?”

She raised one maintained eyebrow. “I hate my life.” she said matter-of-factly. “I am watched constantly, expected always to be perfect, and if I am not, things do not go well for me. I only long to be free.”

He laughed grimly. “And what do you believe freedom is, majesty? Who in all your kingdom is free?”

“Everyone! Except for me, everyone has some freedom. I am the only one who must be caged!”

“You are a fool.” That assassin stood carefully. “You are the most free of us all, you who has never had to lift a finger for herself. The farmer breaks his back every day for his family, and for you. The merchant is far from wife and home every week, because of you and your taxes. The thieves who can not find another way too live because of you, are imprisoned by you. I have heard it before form you, you rich royals who were born to easy life, you little fools who believe you live in a gilded cage!” he snarled. “You could go anywhere and do anything, and you know nothing of the world. Too late.” He ripped his mask off, freeing his mouth. “No one has freedom, princess.” he said more calmly. “The farmer must farm, the Royals must rule--

“And the assassin must kill.” she met his eyes, challenging him. “Shouldn’t you finish he job?”

“You. Are. A. Fool.” He stepped into the light. “You truly wish to die? You don’t know what you ask of me.”

She gasped. His red eyes shone clearly in the light, unmasked. “Berserker.”

“And you speak to me of cages.” he grinned wildly. “You have no idea of what your life could have been, ~your majesty~.” He unsheathed his knife, and her pale eyes were drawn to the glimmer. He stood over her, his darkness overpowering the light in her eyes and hair.

“You want to die?” He brought his knife to her throat, flicked it across her smooth skin, watched avidly as a thin stream of blood flowed. “You know not what you ask.” She put a hand to the cut, and then crumpled to the path.

He wrenched himself away from the red flood that surged across his vision. Racing through the gardens, dodging through the darkness, he smiled grimly to himself. The moonlight had been killed by the heavy mist that descended upon him, and his heart sang with the thought of her blood. He half-hoped someone would attack him this night, that he could further wet his blade, and his appetite. The separate part of him, his voice, reflected on the two blades at his side, one poisoned, the other carrying the antidote. She would never fully know what had happened this night, would wake up in the morning with nothing more than blood on her fingers and a fading scar. She would never hear the words his secret self had whispered over her form, words he fervently repeated as he ran through the dark streets. A hopeless prayer: be free. be free.

~huh. Not so sure I really like this ending. Oh well. Just a filler page, anyway.~~