A/N: I have no real goal for this one; so I think it'll just be a short,
lame exposition chapter, but at least some more time will pass. Beast p.o.v
again, I flipped a coin ^^! Chibi Hime, a curse flashback will not occur
for at least another chapter, I'm sorry. I've decided to make it, well, I
probably shouldn't say. But you'll understand it's for the best. Okay, for
nothing-brite, I'll cut this A/N short. Here we go.
And so, all hang-ups aside, Sasha's lessons continued. My personality flipped once night fell. I waited for Judgment Day, the day I'd snap, but it didn't come. In fact, when I was with her, I felt none of the underlying annoyance I felt throughout the day. It melted away in the candlelight, under her gaze. We did lessons, I'd read, and then, sometimes, we'd talk. About nothing in particular, just things. I made it a ritual to hunt after I took her back to the servants' quarters, her hand warming my arm always. I was full of energy after lessons, aching for physical activity. Hunting was the best choice after seeing Sasha, although, deep in my mind, I had other ideas. I kept those to myself, myself being the darkest, most hidden corners of my thoroughly disgusted brain.
"Why you hunt so much now?!" Svetlana barked at me, she had me cornered in the kitchen after I'd eaten dinner, "You get too much meat! I have no room, NONE, left to store food! And now with new girl and dark boy making new vegetables in courtyard with left over seeds, we have too much food! What I do with so much food?" She shook her hand in my face and turned to stew over the stove. I found myself wanting to laugh at Svetlana's frustration, though not in a cruel way. Strange. (A/N: I have little to no idea what nationality Svetlana is. Maybe she IS Italian, maybe Russian, hm. I'll leave it up to you guys.)
So, Sasha and Ivan were at work in the courtyard? I'd have to stop by, see how it goes. I'd never felt particular interest for the gardens, maybe that's why they'd fallen into such foul disrepair. The image of Sasha nurturing the gardens back to health made me smile, it was so, her.
"Beast?" she called, it was time for lessons. I appreciated how she was never late.
"I'm here." I replied, relishing the feeling of the day's annoyances slip away as she emerged from the dark and sat down next to me.
"I practiced," she said, smiling wide, "Check it out." She held her paper in front of me, capital and lower case C's lined half the page, while the rest was words that started with c. We'd finished the alphabet in capitals, and now progressed to lower case. I quickly realized that she had been right; she could've handled more than one letter a night- because she told me. The rest of the alphabet had gone very quickly after that night.
"Looks good," I said, a smile creeping across my face. What's with all the smiling?! It would have annoyed me, if I hadn't been in the library, with Sasha. We started the next lesson, she griped about how much d was like b. Then we continued our book. We'd finished the Odyssey with her itching for more Greek myths. So I'd pulled out a book containing exactly that and started reading. This one was the story of Arachne, the girl who was turned into a spider after losing a weaving contest to Athena.
"Those Greeks sure came up with some great names, huh? Arachne, Athena. Not to mention Odysseus, and Heracles, and Perseus. Hey," she said, suddenly sitting up from her leaning position on her elbows, "I've got an idea."
"What is it?" I said, closing the book so I could pay complete attention to her. Her eyes were bright with a dawning comprehension of her idea.
"What's your favorite Greek myth?" I was taken aback by the question. With all the time I'd spent in the castle over the years, carefully cultivating my beast lord image, I must have read every book in this library, twice. I reached back in my mind for an answer, what was my favorite? Hm, I'd have to say-
"Jason and the Argonauts."
"Huh?"
"You haven't read it yet." I could feel her desire to correct me; I hadn't read it TO her yet. But I kept talking, "It's about a man who goes on a boat with these other people in search of the Golden Fleece. It's similar to the Odyssey, in a way."
"Okay, then your name will be Jason from now on." I blinked at her.
"What?" I was astounded, she'd named me. I tossed between feeling elated and flattered to insulted and striped of my decision to be called what I wanted to be called. Oh no, was this it? Don't snap, don't snap, don't snap. I looked at Sasha, her eyes were still glowing with the idea. I felt my insult slowly melt away, like ice in spring.
"I told you what I thought about the name Beast, didn't I? It's a terrible thing to call anyone. And since you won't tell me your real name, I'll just have to come up with my own. It was still your choice, just be glad you didn't say Arachne, Jason." She chuckled at her joke. Jason, the name of a Greek hero, yes, I could deal with having that name. It brought no memories, except being warm and calm in the library, enjoying one of my favorite books. And now, it would forever remind me of Sasha, never a bad thing. But, maybe I should tell her my real name. She'd stopped laughing, and now was studying me. I realized that I hadn't answered her, I'd just been staring at her face while the laughter slipped away, but the joy remained.
"Do you," I said hesitantly, "want to know my real name?" I couldn't decide whether I wanted her to say yes or no. She said neither for a while, just looked at me. Was this another staring contest? She spoke slowly, her voice and eyes soft.
"Not yet, Jason. But, I think, someday. I can see you don't really, really want to tell me." I cringed, how did she know these things? "And that's okay. But, for now, I think I'll stick with Jason, Jason."
======================================================
I was so proud of myself for my idea. I couldn't stand another day of this man's name of all things getting in the way of his humanity. No more, now he's Jason. Kind, intelligent, gorgeous Jason. Gorgeous? Where the hell did THAT come from? Oh please, groaned my head, tired of the lies in my thoughts, can you just be honest to yourself, for once? This is getting ridiculous. It was right, I denied it, naturally, but it was there. I've GOT to get over this, there's no point in nurturing this silly, impossible crush.
So I gave it my best shot. I continued my work, as well as my projects, Operation: Rose Garden, and learning to read, however difficult it got covering up my feelings. Dad and my work had touched more or less the entire castle. It was so different than when we had arrived. The sun through windows that led to balconies that would look over a beautiful courtyard, if Ivan and I were successful, lighted the bedroom's painted walls. I indulged in our skill by flopping onto the voluminous bed in bedroom 45 with the glowing peach walls. It was a lovely room; I had had dreams of waking up in it, warm and euphoric, dressed in one of the beautiful nightgowns found in the closet of the room. When I woke up in the servants' quarters, I was sad to find my usual tattered nightshirt wrapped around me, the cold making me shiver through the worn blankets of my bed. The wood of the dining room tables was radiant, deep reds and browns. The statues in the garden were polished to their marble swirls of white and gray. I couldn't wait to see the effect of sunlit flowers' faces on the marble.
The slanted sun of dawn suddenly lighted the entire castle from within. I sighed with satisfaction, standing in dining room 12, my duster held loosely at my side. Time to work on the gardens, so said the breaking sun. That was my signal. That was when Ivan would be there, and we could work. I drew in a quick breath and made my way to the courtyard.
"So," I called to Ivan as I walked into my section of the garden, "What's the next order of business? Weed disposal, right?" I stopped walking when he shook his head, "What then?"
"The next order of business is you go to town and buy flowers."
"Really?" My heart started jumping. Throughout work, the garden, the library, Jason, the anticipation of going back to town had never left.
"Yes, the weeds are gone," he motioned around the garden. I looked around and realized, yes, the weeds WERE gone, "The soil is ready for planting."
"You're right," I looked down, formulating a plan, "Okay then. I'll go today, I think." I looked back up at Ivan, "Yes. Okay, I need money, maybe a little more if I have to spend the night."
"Okay, we'll talk to Crawford." We left the courtyard.
"You're quite sure you want to go alone, Sasha?" Crawford asked for the twentieth time.
"Yes, quite, QUITE sure, Crawford." I adjusted the stirrups on Barcelona, Ivan stood silently next to Crawford. His face was solid, unreadable, black- brown stone. I forced myself not to snap at Crawford, he was worried, I should be relishing this paternal warmth. I hopped onto the horse, and was just about to nudge her into a walk when I felt Crawford's hand on my leg. I looked at him and was surprised to see such intense worry. This was more than normal worry.
"I'll be fine, Crawford," I said, smiling to eradicate the worry on his face, "I promise." It didn't work.
"Sasha," he said, his voice deadly serious. The carefree smile slipped off my face like running butter, "People will know where you work. And some," he paused, as if trying to think of a proper euphemism. He shook his head, giving up, "The villagers have been becoming increasingly aware of the stories that have been going around about our master. Things have gotten tense, there is talk around the village of coming to the castle and," he swallowed, "killing him. I haven't the faintest idea what some of the more militant villagers will do to someone who works for the beast lord. I want you to be as careful as possible. Don't talk to anyone, keep to yourself. I know you now, Sasha, I know your personality. Please, make yourself as inconspicuous as possible. I'll let you go now." He stepped back from the horse. All my excitement that had been building for weeks about the trip had turned sewage.
"I'll be careful, Crawford. Don't worry about me, I'm a servant: I'm the queen of melting into the woodwork when I'm not wanted." Crawford's face twisted into a semblance of a smile.
I dug my heels into Barcelona, she jumped into a run. I raced to get away from the safety of the castle, before I changed my mind. My mind laughed bitterly, to think I'd thought the castle such a prison. Now it was a haven, I hated leaving it, even if it was to the village.
I took a deep breath and swung myself off Barcelona. My butt and legs ached, I'd had her canter the whole way. I regretted it, seeing Barcelona's heaving, sweaty flanks. I'd feed her a few sugar cubes, when we got back. I hitched her to a post used by visitors to the village and tightened the scarf over my slightly distinctive hair. It was a growing village, no longer a collection of mud-brick farms, it had gained a market place and a church made of stone. The church had nothing on the castle's spires. I walked cautiously down the marketplace. I was suspicious of everyone. Who were the militant villagers who had the mental deficiency to actually believe all the crazy rumors about Jason. Between nervous glances at the crowd around me, I kept my head low and my shoulders hunched. Keep small and inconspicuous, my steady mind-voice instructed, Just like during Dame Julibell's dinner parties.
I approached the grouping of florist shops. The flowers were in fine shape. It was mid-spring, the perfect time for planting. I drifted between the rows of lilies, hyacinths, tulips, even some sapling seeds of small, garden trees.. I grabbed the small bags of seeds of each flower, I was up to five when I found the roses. An entire aisle was dedicated to roses. Each one was different, golden yellow buds, then deep purple blooms. I grabbed as many as my hands could hold, taking extra of the ruby blood red roses. THOSE were the best. The ends of their petals silken ruby red, the color changing as it reached the heart from a garnet crimson, to a dark red, heart-blood red. The kind of red that stained the battleground. I took six of those bags.
"That'll be four gold florins," (A/N: Thank you, A Knight's Tale, for informing me of the currency of the age.) said the florist, sounding bored. Good, the less interested in me she sounded the better. I dumped the coins next to the bags on the counter.
"Thank you for choosing Nature's Florist. Have a nice day." She turned to the next customer. As she did, I was frozen by the sudden stare of a young man. He had been replanting a fern when he froze in his place, staring at me. His hair was black, curling around his neck. His eyes were way too pale blue, and filled with a frightening mixture of fear and hate and anger and violence. He was one of them, I quickly realized, one of the militant villagers. One of the men who would destroy Jason. I bolted from the shop, the bags of seeds held in my apron.
It was five o'clock, I'd eat at some inn, then ride Barcelona like a bat outta hell until I was back at the castle, back in Jason's eyes. NOT under the gaze of that poor, misled young man. I suddenly felt a great swallow of pity for him, he had no idea what he really feared. It was almost laughable, his fear of Jason. Jason, sweet, kind, understanding, patient Jason. There was little to fear in him. Except that darkness in his eyes that I knew, someday, would boil to the surface. He didn't know I knew, but I could feel it between us, like the inevitable eruption of a long dormant volcano. It was only a matter of time before one of us would set it off. I'd waited for that day, but it had ceased to come. We'd only grown closer together, as friends, through the lessons. And also the talks we sometimes had. While I learned little of him, he had learned tons about me. I spilled my guts out to him in the candlelight, not regretting a word. He knew me better than even Crawford. I couldn't understand the man's fear of Jason.
I walked into the inn, taking a seat at a table. It was barely crowded, just the usual drunks and friends ending their workday. I was one of the few people who were alone. I didn't mind, I enjoyed watching their merriment. It made me smile. Took off the edge of fear that churned in my stomach after my encounter with the young man with the hateful eyes. I quietly sipped my ale and chewed on my bread and meat (A/N: Not sure what they ate at inns back then, sue me.). Still feeling uneasy, I finished quickly, paid, and exited the inn. Night had fallen, the moon drifted between the buildings. Now I just had to get back to Barcelona, then back home. I smiled at the thought.
I wish it wasn't a smile that the hand that clapped around my mouth felt. Another arm wrapped around my middle, dragging me roughly into an alley. Pain burned in my neck, my head being pushed back against my assailant's shoulder. I felt like throwing up, the pressure so great from the other arm around my freshly fed stomach. I was thrown against the stonewall of the church, figures. The perfect place to be, most likely, raped and murdered. A new pain burst in the back of my head from the impact. My eyes blurred, I couldn't see whoever was accosting me. I felt cold hands gripping my neck. Oh my God, they want to kill me! I did the only thing I could think to do, I tried to scream. The noise reminded me of Ivan's pigs when they were hungry.
"Shut up, you godless bitch!" cried the thug. My eyes cleared slightly, the moon had rose, illuminating the alley. I wasn't surprised to be, once again, staring into the ice eyes of the young man from the florist shop. I was surprised to see three other men, older than the florist, lounging around the alley, watching him extinguish a human life. They all had hateful eyes.
"P-please d-don't," I spluttered helplessly. He was strong, and not too dumb. He knew I could kick, so he'd lifted me slightly, using the stone as leverage, so I was on my toes. Kicking would have meant midair dangling, something my oxygen-deprived body wouldn't allow.
"I knew you the minute I saw you in the shop," he murmured, his voice thick with rage, "The Devil is in you, minion of the beast. You will die for your sins." How ridiculous, I wanted to spit in his face. That was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. Oh great, my mind whined as it dimmed, these militant villagers think they have God on their side. I felt unwelcome tears slide down my cheeks. I didn't want to die, not one little bit. I tried to scream again when I realized I couldn't see at all now, though my eyes were wide open. I'm going to die, my mind said. Sue me for stating the obvious.
A/N: Enjoy the cliffhanger!
And so, all hang-ups aside, Sasha's lessons continued. My personality flipped once night fell. I waited for Judgment Day, the day I'd snap, but it didn't come. In fact, when I was with her, I felt none of the underlying annoyance I felt throughout the day. It melted away in the candlelight, under her gaze. We did lessons, I'd read, and then, sometimes, we'd talk. About nothing in particular, just things. I made it a ritual to hunt after I took her back to the servants' quarters, her hand warming my arm always. I was full of energy after lessons, aching for physical activity. Hunting was the best choice after seeing Sasha, although, deep in my mind, I had other ideas. I kept those to myself, myself being the darkest, most hidden corners of my thoroughly disgusted brain.
"Why you hunt so much now?!" Svetlana barked at me, she had me cornered in the kitchen after I'd eaten dinner, "You get too much meat! I have no room, NONE, left to store food! And now with new girl and dark boy making new vegetables in courtyard with left over seeds, we have too much food! What I do with so much food?" She shook her hand in my face and turned to stew over the stove. I found myself wanting to laugh at Svetlana's frustration, though not in a cruel way. Strange. (A/N: I have little to no idea what nationality Svetlana is. Maybe she IS Italian, maybe Russian, hm. I'll leave it up to you guys.)
So, Sasha and Ivan were at work in the courtyard? I'd have to stop by, see how it goes. I'd never felt particular interest for the gardens, maybe that's why they'd fallen into such foul disrepair. The image of Sasha nurturing the gardens back to health made me smile, it was so, her.
"Beast?" she called, it was time for lessons. I appreciated how she was never late.
"I'm here." I replied, relishing the feeling of the day's annoyances slip away as she emerged from the dark and sat down next to me.
"I practiced," she said, smiling wide, "Check it out." She held her paper in front of me, capital and lower case C's lined half the page, while the rest was words that started with c. We'd finished the alphabet in capitals, and now progressed to lower case. I quickly realized that she had been right; she could've handled more than one letter a night- because she told me. The rest of the alphabet had gone very quickly after that night.
"Looks good," I said, a smile creeping across my face. What's with all the smiling?! It would have annoyed me, if I hadn't been in the library, with Sasha. We started the next lesson, she griped about how much d was like b. Then we continued our book. We'd finished the Odyssey with her itching for more Greek myths. So I'd pulled out a book containing exactly that and started reading. This one was the story of Arachne, the girl who was turned into a spider after losing a weaving contest to Athena.
"Those Greeks sure came up with some great names, huh? Arachne, Athena. Not to mention Odysseus, and Heracles, and Perseus. Hey," she said, suddenly sitting up from her leaning position on her elbows, "I've got an idea."
"What is it?" I said, closing the book so I could pay complete attention to her. Her eyes were bright with a dawning comprehension of her idea.
"What's your favorite Greek myth?" I was taken aback by the question. With all the time I'd spent in the castle over the years, carefully cultivating my beast lord image, I must have read every book in this library, twice. I reached back in my mind for an answer, what was my favorite? Hm, I'd have to say-
"Jason and the Argonauts."
"Huh?"
"You haven't read it yet." I could feel her desire to correct me; I hadn't read it TO her yet. But I kept talking, "It's about a man who goes on a boat with these other people in search of the Golden Fleece. It's similar to the Odyssey, in a way."
"Okay, then your name will be Jason from now on." I blinked at her.
"What?" I was astounded, she'd named me. I tossed between feeling elated and flattered to insulted and striped of my decision to be called what I wanted to be called. Oh no, was this it? Don't snap, don't snap, don't snap. I looked at Sasha, her eyes were still glowing with the idea. I felt my insult slowly melt away, like ice in spring.
"I told you what I thought about the name Beast, didn't I? It's a terrible thing to call anyone. And since you won't tell me your real name, I'll just have to come up with my own. It was still your choice, just be glad you didn't say Arachne, Jason." She chuckled at her joke. Jason, the name of a Greek hero, yes, I could deal with having that name. It brought no memories, except being warm and calm in the library, enjoying one of my favorite books. And now, it would forever remind me of Sasha, never a bad thing. But, maybe I should tell her my real name. She'd stopped laughing, and now was studying me. I realized that I hadn't answered her, I'd just been staring at her face while the laughter slipped away, but the joy remained.
"Do you," I said hesitantly, "want to know my real name?" I couldn't decide whether I wanted her to say yes or no. She said neither for a while, just looked at me. Was this another staring contest? She spoke slowly, her voice and eyes soft.
"Not yet, Jason. But, I think, someday. I can see you don't really, really want to tell me." I cringed, how did she know these things? "And that's okay. But, for now, I think I'll stick with Jason, Jason."
======================================================
I was so proud of myself for my idea. I couldn't stand another day of this man's name of all things getting in the way of his humanity. No more, now he's Jason. Kind, intelligent, gorgeous Jason. Gorgeous? Where the hell did THAT come from? Oh please, groaned my head, tired of the lies in my thoughts, can you just be honest to yourself, for once? This is getting ridiculous. It was right, I denied it, naturally, but it was there. I've GOT to get over this, there's no point in nurturing this silly, impossible crush.
So I gave it my best shot. I continued my work, as well as my projects, Operation: Rose Garden, and learning to read, however difficult it got covering up my feelings. Dad and my work had touched more or less the entire castle. It was so different than when we had arrived. The sun through windows that led to balconies that would look over a beautiful courtyard, if Ivan and I were successful, lighted the bedroom's painted walls. I indulged in our skill by flopping onto the voluminous bed in bedroom 45 with the glowing peach walls. It was a lovely room; I had had dreams of waking up in it, warm and euphoric, dressed in one of the beautiful nightgowns found in the closet of the room. When I woke up in the servants' quarters, I was sad to find my usual tattered nightshirt wrapped around me, the cold making me shiver through the worn blankets of my bed. The wood of the dining room tables was radiant, deep reds and browns. The statues in the garden were polished to their marble swirls of white and gray. I couldn't wait to see the effect of sunlit flowers' faces on the marble.
The slanted sun of dawn suddenly lighted the entire castle from within. I sighed with satisfaction, standing in dining room 12, my duster held loosely at my side. Time to work on the gardens, so said the breaking sun. That was my signal. That was when Ivan would be there, and we could work. I drew in a quick breath and made my way to the courtyard.
"So," I called to Ivan as I walked into my section of the garden, "What's the next order of business? Weed disposal, right?" I stopped walking when he shook his head, "What then?"
"The next order of business is you go to town and buy flowers."
"Really?" My heart started jumping. Throughout work, the garden, the library, Jason, the anticipation of going back to town had never left.
"Yes, the weeds are gone," he motioned around the garden. I looked around and realized, yes, the weeds WERE gone, "The soil is ready for planting."
"You're right," I looked down, formulating a plan, "Okay then. I'll go today, I think." I looked back up at Ivan, "Yes. Okay, I need money, maybe a little more if I have to spend the night."
"Okay, we'll talk to Crawford." We left the courtyard.
"You're quite sure you want to go alone, Sasha?" Crawford asked for the twentieth time.
"Yes, quite, QUITE sure, Crawford." I adjusted the stirrups on Barcelona, Ivan stood silently next to Crawford. His face was solid, unreadable, black- brown stone. I forced myself not to snap at Crawford, he was worried, I should be relishing this paternal warmth. I hopped onto the horse, and was just about to nudge her into a walk when I felt Crawford's hand on my leg. I looked at him and was surprised to see such intense worry. This was more than normal worry.
"I'll be fine, Crawford," I said, smiling to eradicate the worry on his face, "I promise." It didn't work.
"Sasha," he said, his voice deadly serious. The carefree smile slipped off my face like running butter, "People will know where you work. And some," he paused, as if trying to think of a proper euphemism. He shook his head, giving up, "The villagers have been becoming increasingly aware of the stories that have been going around about our master. Things have gotten tense, there is talk around the village of coming to the castle and," he swallowed, "killing him. I haven't the faintest idea what some of the more militant villagers will do to someone who works for the beast lord. I want you to be as careful as possible. Don't talk to anyone, keep to yourself. I know you now, Sasha, I know your personality. Please, make yourself as inconspicuous as possible. I'll let you go now." He stepped back from the horse. All my excitement that had been building for weeks about the trip had turned sewage.
"I'll be careful, Crawford. Don't worry about me, I'm a servant: I'm the queen of melting into the woodwork when I'm not wanted." Crawford's face twisted into a semblance of a smile.
I dug my heels into Barcelona, she jumped into a run. I raced to get away from the safety of the castle, before I changed my mind. My mind laughed bitterly, to think I'd thought the castle such a prison. Now it was a haven, I hated leaving it, even if it was to the village.
I took a deep breath and swung myself off Barcelona. My butt and legs ached, I'd had her canter the whole way. I regretted it, seeing Barcelona's heaving, sweaty flanks. I'd feed her a few sugar cubes, when we got back. I hitched her to a post used by visitors to the village and tightened the scarf over my slightly distinctive hair. It was a growing village, no longer a collection of mud-brick farms, it had gained a market place and a church made of stone. The church had nothing on the castle's spires. I walked cautiously down the marketplace. I was suspicious of everyone. Who were the militant villagers who had the mental deficiency to actually believe all the crazy rumors about Jason. Between nervous glances at the crowd around me, I kept my head low and my shoulders hunched. Keep small and inconspicuous, my steady mind-voice instructed, Just like during Dame Julibell's dinner parties.
I approached the grouping of florist shops. The flowers were in fine shape. It was mid-spring, the perfect time for planting. I drifted between the rows of lilies, hyacinths, tulips, even some sapling seeds of small, garden trees.. I grabbed the small bags of seeds of each flower, I was up to five when I found the roses. An entire aisle was dedicated to roses. Each one was different, golden yellow buds, then deep purple blooms. I grabbed as many as my hands could hold, taking extra of the ruby blood red roses. THOSE were the best. The ends of their petals silken ruby red, the color changing as it reached the heart from a garnet crimson, to a dark red, heart-blood red. The kind of red that stained the battleground. I took six of those bags.
"That'll be four gold florins," (A/N: Thank you, A Knight's Tale, for informing me of the currency of the age.) said the florist, sounding bored. Good, the less interested in me she sounded the better. I dumped the coins next to the bags on the counter.
"Thank you for choosing Nature's Florist. Have a nice day." She turned to the next customer. As she did, I was frozen by the sudden stare of a young man. He had been replanting a fern when he froze in his place, staring at me. His hair was black, curling around his neck. His eyes were way too pale blue, and filled with a frightening mixture of fear and hate and anger and violence. He was one of them, I quickly realized, one of the militant villagers. One of the men who would destroy Jason. I bolted from the shop, the bags of seeds held in my apron.
It was five o'clock, I'd eat at some inn, then ride Barcelona like a bat outta hell until I was back at the castle, back in Jason's eyes. NOT under the gaze of that poor, misled young man. I suddenly felt a great swallow of pity for him, he had no idea what he really feared. It was almost laughable, his fear of Jason. Jason, sweet, kind, understanding, patient Jason. There was little to fear in him. Except that darkness in his eyes that I knew, someday, would boil to the surface. He didn't know I knew, but I could feel it between us, like the inevitable eruption of a long dormant volcano. It was only a matter of time before one of us would set it off. I'd waited for that day, but it had ceased to come. We'd only grown closer together, as friends, through the lessons. And also the talks we sometimes had. While I learned little of him, he had learned tons about me. I spilled my guts out to him in the candlelight, not regretting a word. He knew me better than even Crawford. I couldn't understand the man's fear of Jason.
I walked into the inn, taking a seat at a table. It was barely crowded, just the usual drunks and friends ending their workday. I was one of the few people who were alone. I didn't mind, I enjoyed watching their merriment. It made me smile. Took off the edge of fear that churned in my stomach after my encounter with the young man with the hateful eyes. I quietly sipped my ale and chewed on my bread and meat (A/N: Not sure what they ate at inns back then, sue me.). Still feeling uneasy, I finished quickly, paid, and exited the inn. Night had fallen, the moon drifted between the buildings. Now I just had to get back to Barcelona, then back home. I smiled at the thought.
I wish it wasn't a smile that the hand that clapped around my mouth felt. Another arm wrapped around my middle, dragging me roughly into an alley. Pain burned in my neck, my head being pushed back against my assailant's shoulder. I felt like throwing up, the pressure so great from the other arm around my freshly fed stomach. I was thrown against the stonewall of the church, figures. The perfect place to be, most likely, raped and murdered. A new pain burst in the back of my head from the impact. My eyes blurred, I couldn't see whoever was accosting me. I felt cold hands gripping my neck. Oh my God, they want to kill me! I did the only thing I could think to do, I tried to scream. The noise reminded me of Ivan's pigs when they were hungry.
"Shut up, you godless bitch!" cried the thug. My eyes cleared slightly, the moon had rose, illuminating the alley. I wasn't surprised to be, once again, staring into the ice eyes of the young man from the florist shop. I was surprised to see three other men, older than the florist, lounging around the alley, watching him extinguish a human life. They all had hateful eyes.
"P-please d-don't," I spluttered helplessly. He was strong, and not too dumb. He knew I could kick, so he'd lifted me slightly, using the stone as leverage, so I was on my toes. Kicking would have meant midair dangling, something my oxygen-deprived body wouldn't allow.
"I knew you the minute I saw you in the shop," he murmured, his voice thick with rage, "The Devil is in you, minion of the beast. You will die for your sins." How ridiculous, I wanted to spit in his face. That was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. Oh great, my mind whined as it dimmed, these militant villagers think they have God on their side. I felt unwelcome tears slide down my cheeks. I didn't want to die, not one little bit. I tried to scream again when I realized I couldn't see at all now, though my eyes were wide open. I'm going to die, my mind said. Sue me for stating the obvious.
A/N: Enjoy the cliffhanger!
