Valore, Princes and Bad Guys

Eleven

Inokori Sensei-JubyPhonic

Derek was no coward, that much he knew. He bulldozed through the complications in his life and never left any room for argument; he never ran from his problems. Until he met Chloe, at least. But that would come a little later.

A light drizzle dampened his shoulders and hair as he drew back his arrow, fingers braced against the feathers, feeling his muscles ache in a tender, familiar way, like being embraced into a mother's breast.

"You're going to get sick," said a voice. He adjusted his position, widening his stance and straightening his shoulders. The bowstring hummed with built-up energy as Derek let his fingers drop, the bow sailing through the air with a shrill sound that cut through the thrum of rain.

He cast a glance in the voice's direction. "Hello, Chloe," he said softly, managing a half-attempted smile before he set down his bow. "I didn't know you shoot a bow like Robin hood," she told him, looking surprisingly unaffected by the cold water splashing down, her pink dress soaked and clinging to her slight frame, the small swell of her breasts, the sides of her girlish hips. Limp curls clung to her cheeks as she picked up the hem of her skirt and made her way down the steps, a smile on her face.

"Hello, Derek," she said and he saw that her cheeks were flushed, as though she were cold. She shivered and wrung out a wet piece of hair absently. "Get inside," he told her. "Put down the bow and come in with me," she demanded softly, a look on her face that screamed, I'm not going in without you.

She looked paler than snow in the light, a bit of fear in her eyes as he set down his bow in the quiver and handed it to the servant standing beside him. "Thank you, Austin," he told the boy, no younger than his betrothed, who nodded and scurried away.

"Did something happen?" Derek asked, wrapping an arm around Chloe's thin, bony shoulders as they headed up the back steps. A servant opened the door and they stepped into the hallway, warmth hitting their bodies.

"A-ac-actually," she began hesitantly and he wiped away her hair from her cheek. "It's…it's about the Dark King," she whispered. Terror flooded through him, despite his controlled breathing techniques. "The Dark King?" he echoed, like he didn't have a clue as to who that was. Quite contrary, actually.

"Yes." She blinked several times, hard, looking as though she'd burst into tears. "It seems…it seems he's back and he's looking for his son." Something in his chest broke as his heart hammered its way through his ribcage, pounding furiously as his mouth went dry. "What does that have anything to do with me?" he hissed and she recoiled, hugging herself. "I-I…" she began uncertainly, the tips of her ears coloring. "I-I think he's looking f-for you."

Blood thundered in his ears like horse hooves, drowning out the sound of Chloe's voice. This wasn't real; this wasn't happening. She was joking, right? A quick glance at her pallor skin and terrified face told him she really, really wasn't. A heavy weight constricted his chest and he began to breath quickly and shallowly, feeling everything fade away.

I think he's looking for you.

It was only a matter of time, Derek, before someone put the pieces together.

What do you mean?

You and I both know what I mean. With your father's body count, I'm surprised people didn't track all the way to Sacramento—

"Derek?" Chloe's worried face peered up at him, her cheeks flushed and nose pink. Water clung to her pale lashes and her hair. "I'm fine," he muttered, more so to himself than to her question. "No," she said boldly, "you aren't. You've gone all pale-faced, like you've seen a dead man."

"Good night, Chloe," he sighed and made for his rooms. "It's barely passed four!" she cried and reached out to grab his arm. Her big, blue eyes gazed up him with a furrow between her pale brows, her face reddening even more when he tried to shake her off.

"Ch—" he started.

"Don't brush me off!" she yelled out loudly and cringed, dropping her hands quickly before placing them back onto his arm again. Every time Derek closed his eyes, all he saw were the bodies, piled high, some still dying, their guttural moans weak and raspy. The smell of dark, wet earth invaded his senses and he threw her from his arm, watching her bounce. "Don't touch me," he spat. He was looming above her, only seeing the fear and terror across her face and that fueled his fire.

The hot, burning anger was growing to blazing heights, climbing higher and higher until he saw it on the backs of his lids. "You think I'm a monster, don't you? Just like him," he whispered, his voice barely recognizable for the quiet tone. "N-no—" she stopped and yelped as he grabbed her by the arm, looking into her big eyes. She couldn't hide the fear in them, no matter how hard she tried.

"That's all I ever am, aren't I? The bastard monster's son? The Slayer of Sacramento's son? I deserve death for what I am."

She was whimpering and crying now, clawing at his hand.

"Just stay away, please." He let his hand drop and saw the reddening skin, darkening now, turning black and purple and blue. Tears filled her eyes as she stared up at him in horror, her face pinched with pain and paler than snow.

"Just stay away from me, Chloe. I'm no good for you," he said brokenly, feeling the lump in his throat get bigger and his own tears fill his eyes. He turned and ran like a coward.

oOo

The storm grew darker and darker; outside, rain howled and lashed against the stone walls. It sent chills down his spine as he remembered the dank smell of wet soil, the cold skin as he tripped and the lantern hit the ground and he caught a glimpse of the bodies. He saw a flash of mutilated skin, marred with burns and cuts, the cloudy pupils staring at him helplessly.

"Derek!"

It was Simon, his face paler than the lightening outside, at his door, terror written all over his face. "It's Chloe!"

Derek bolted upright and sprang towards his brother menacingly—unintentionally of course. "What do you mean? What's happened?" he demanded. Simon went quiet, hesitant before he spoke.

"She's been kidnapped." Simon braced himself.

"By who?" Derek snarled, his hands itching to rip the man to pieces.

"The Dark King."