---------------Questing---------------
((one-shot))
All of his life, he had wanted something special. Lust was something he knew a little; it creaked and it crackled but it didn't offer anything new, didn't fill him. Lust, he decided, was transparent.
Some people quest for answers, he wrote. Some people quest for memories. And me? I think I quest for love, but things have changed...
The snow was a very pure, block white. It fell steadily, caking the ground like the sweetest icing on a cake. Such a very hygienic colour made him feel dirty. If only rolling in the snow would make all the bitter dirt go away. Unfortunately, he wasn't actually dirty. Sighing, he tugged at his collar and returned to his journal.
Yesterday I became a murderer. Is that what those eight years of training were for? I feel as if I'm drowning in blood.
The day before, the kraken had roared over the hill and bared its ugly teeth, and Owen had realised that he was in a war. It was not jolly. This was killing, naked metal digging into flesh, and Owen was there in the middle of it. There, he had slaughtered a man, the first he had ever killed; and the blood had leaked, guts slimily hanging out of wounds, and suddenly Owen felt tainted.
Unable to write more, he put his journal away. He couldn't concentrate very well anymore. As he buried his head in his arms, there was a bang at the window. Looking up, he saw a clump of snow slipping down the glass pane. Owen pushed the window up, leaned out and felt cold air rushing in, chilling him down to his toes. He called out. "Who threw that snowball?"
A pretty, innocent face peeked out from round the corner of a nearby building. The young woman was clad in a wool hat, scarf and gloves, and a heavy winter dress which was soaked up to the knees by the wet snow. She smiled sweetly and, before he knew it, her arm jolted forwards and another snowball hit his forehead. She stepped out into the middle of the courtyard and grinned again, a drift of hair falling from her loose bun. "Will you come out, Squire?" she called.
That's Lord Wyldon's daughter! Owen thought. When he hesitated, she hiked up her skirts and moved to his window.
"Please?" she added, leaning forward and kissing his cheek with icy cold lips. He breathed out, vapour storming upwards, and gazed at her. She leaned forward again, and for one stifling moment he thought she would kiss him on the lips, but her perfect white teeth were bared in a beautiful smile and she reached forward and shoved a handful of snow down his shirt. Laughing, she ran off in her winter boots and stood further away. "Well? What do you say?"
She was the picture of innocence with her hands clasped behind her back. Owen felt cleansed already.
He pulled on a cloak and clambered out the window.
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I can't apologise enough for not updating any of my stories for so long. I have ten days of half term so I will update soon.
Sat down last night and this came - influenced by Utada Hikaru's music and the anime Gravitation. I can't recall if Wyldon's daughter's name was mentioned in the books, but I've seen Teresa used a few times in fanfiction. This one shot probably goes against facts in the books - I just wanted to write about a different side of Owen. Hope you liked. Reviews are greatly appreciated!