Blood Moon
Sydney Alexis VII

After taking out the two fools waiting in my room, I had my guards drag all their bodies out into the center of town and had them prominently displayed. It was a tasteless act that I knew Crycus would do. My men- once Chakotay's- performed the act without complaint. After giving my orders, I took Kathryn back to my room, locking it up tightly. She eyed me warily as I jammed a rather heavy dresser in front of the door.

"You were expecting this, weren't you?"

"Yeah, I was. I knew the king would have at least a handful of people on the inside. I also know I haven't flushed them all out."

"So that act this morning? That was part of your plan."

"Not all of it. The bit about the king not having the courage to face me was. The fight with Tuvok was gravy." I saw her shudder at this statement, but chose not to call her on it.

I crossed the room and sat down on the bed a good distance from her. I laid back, resting my head on the pillow, arms tucked beneath my head.

"So what now?"

I sighed. The next step was one I wasn't looking forward to-- too many memories attached. "We go home, pet."

§¤§¤☼¤§¤§

I waited until her breathing was deep and even until I got up. Slipping silently from the bed, I made my way to the escape tunnel and recovered my pauper's wears. I set them on the bed and began divesting. I started with the ridiculous wrap that Crycus' paranoia had led him to wear. Feeling my heated breath against my face and being forced to breath in his scent with every intake of air had effected me in ways that I care not mention, being suddenly free of it made me feel more like myself. More focused.

I untied the belt, careful that the saber was resting beneath the bed. The jacket, pants, tunic, and boots soon met it. I slipped into the muslin tunic, vest, pants, and a worn, leather jacket. Night in the desert was unforgiving to the fool that didn't wear warm layers.

Pocketing a few dinars, I entered the darkened tunnel out of the castle. I needed time to center my thoughts and plan my next moves carefully-- a difficult task when I had to worry about being attacked while making those plans.

Exiting the tunnel, I was greeted by the biting cold that sunset brought. The winds were howling through the thick patches of trees the locals mistook for a 'forest.' I suppose having grown up in a climate that inhospitable to man, beast, and foliage alike, natives would make the assumption that a smattering of trees growing near a tributary's off-shoot is a forest. I thought of this place more a filthy little oasis. Filthy in that the sand was firmly ingrained into every aspect of life. Every home's floor was covered in grit. No matter how much the homemaker swept, it would still seep in through the tiniest of cracks. Personal hygiene was another matter. It was easier to detect assailants by their smell. Baths were rare in the desert. Water is and always will be a luxury item. The first use...the only use is for drinking. Children are taught that from a young age; don't waste water. Unfortunately, even those right off a river bank didn't seem to understand that this riverbed was filled with water. That it would continue to be, and that, any enemy that is upwind of them would know their exact location. All the better for me I suppose. It made it easier to keep track of guards' location.

By the pink in the sky and the smell in the air, I knew instinctively that a heavy storm was approaching. I paused a moment to let my eyes finish adjusting to the new amount of light and then headed for the north wall. Pulling me daggers from the laces in my boots, I climbed up the wall as I did the previous night. This time, however, I ran into a guard. He was hidden by the shadows, smoking a cigarette. The smoke from it swirled in the air as he drew in a deep drag from the lighted tobacco.

I approached him from behind and waited silently until he released one, final puff of smoke from his lips. He dropped the remnants on the ground in front of him, snuffing the end out with the tip of his shoe. Smiling, I stepped forward and covered his mouth before he could scream.

Dropping my voice low and deep I growled into his ear, "Shouldn't smoke those; they'll kill you. Then again, you're livin' on borrowed time." Clamping my hands around his left shoulder, I used the hand covering his mouth to twist his neck. I stepped back from him and out of the tower, flipping from the ledge into the darkened alley.

I strolled through the streets, staying in the shadows, watching drunken men stagger from one tavern to the next in search of another drink. I finally stumbled across a small inn whose entrance was poorly marked and had few patrons inside. Cautiously, I walked in and took a seat in the far right corner. The table's candle was unlit, and it was a good distance from the fireplace. Slipping onto the seat, I was surprised to see a young girl looking down at my expectantly.

"What can I get you, sir?" she asked.

I swallowed hard when I looked at her. She had auburn hair, dark eyes, well tanned skin, slender build. She reminded me of someone, but I couldn't place who. Something was a little too off. Pushing that thought aside, I looked up at her and smiled. "Got anything to eat?" I asked, letting a rough color come into my voice.

"Yeah. Couscous. Not sure what all else Ellie has made. I can check?" she suggested. I nodded. "Bring me whatever's made already and a tankard of mead."

I watched her as she walked away. Her hips swaying like a well-experienced wench. I paused, sitting quietly in the corner, and listened to the sounds around me-- pots being sorted through and cleaned in the kitchen, the floorboards creaking as the bar maid filled my drink, the soft murmurs of patrons speaking in hushed tones, and the screams of passion coming from the second floor. Figured this place was more than an inn. Would explain the location. Word had it that Crycus was so whipped by the king that he had seen to it that the more sinful of businesses had been stopped. Places like this thought...they always operated behind closed doors. When the inspectors came 'round, it was nothing more than an inn. Grease the right palm with a few dozen dinars and this place is ripe for business. Not that I was complaining or anything. I'd seen my fair share of these places in the past. Never was looking for any sort of a relationship. Those brought all sorts of unnecessary little tags on them that I wanted nothing to do with. Had to take the girl out, show her a good time, hell...even had to marry them before they put out. No...these girls were simple-- pay up front, tell them what you want, have a good time, and leave in the morning. No string attached.

The first bit of mead went down quickly and hit my empty stomach. I hadn't eaten all day. Been too busy killing to notice just how hungry I was until I smelled the food on the plate in front of me. I knew it would probably end up on a street somewhere after I'd had my fill of mead, but I didn't care. It tasted good going down.

The wench returned with another glass of mead. Was it the third or fourth? I'd lost count. Dimly aware that I should, in fact, be cutting back on my consumption. Need to keep a clear head. Come up with a plan and all that. The girl was still there, hovering. I offer her a seat across from me, which she takes. It must be getting late. The place is filling up. There are more girls circling 'round the tables.

"What's your name, handsome?" she asked me in a heavy accent.

I tilt my head to the side. Should be an instant response, but the truth is that I really don't have one. Proteus is dead. Same for Thomas. I can't say Crycus. That would give my game away. I smile at her...that cheap, fake smile that makes women melt for some reason. Not all. Kathryn never fell for it. Suppose I'll have to amend that. Bruised ego and all that. It might have been that she was aware of others' moods enough to know that it's all an act-- kept her alive all those years. "William," I provided. She returned my smile.

"You are not from here, eh?"

I take a long swig from the mug in front of me, feeling more than a little buzzed. "No. Not from here."

It's the same game every time; get drunk enough that her features blur, pay off her pimp, slip up the stairs, and pretend that, at least for one night, I am my old self and I am loved by someone. Just for that one night, I can pretend that I am a righteous man and that I have a country to return home to. Funny that the only time I can every really feel anything is when I'm fornicating with whores I've known less than a few hours or killing a man. The rush is the same. The outcome is different.

She doesn't look like Lanna when I look up at her. She doesn't look like Yuling either. Her rough, calloused hand reached across the table, drawing me back from my thoughts.

"Not one for talking, are you?" she said, softly.

"No. Not really."

"Maybe if you did, it would make things easier," she prodded. "I always find that it does."

I was tempted to tell her, but I stopped myself. I made that mistake once; told a whore bits and piece of my life. Not all of it. Just the highlights. It was enough to make her cry and back away from me with that look in her eyes. The fear came off of her in waves. She couldn't handle it. I knew thatgoin' into it, but it just felt so damned good. Learned my lesson from her though—she tried to turn me in. Maybe I should have let her. 'Stead I had a full blown mob after me. They were out for my blood. I escaped- barely. Shacked up with Duessa for a bit while I healed up. She was glad to see me. Even helped me take the bint out when I'd healed.

My glance fell on the girl's again. She was looking at me expectantly. Maybe I should have told her to sod off, but somewhere between the alcohol buzzing around in my system and the dim lighting, it finally struck me who she reminds me of. Maybe a little fuller in the bust, a little younger and thinner in the face, and her eyes were a few shades too dark, but there was some level of resemblance. I reached out one trembling hand and caressed her cheek.

"Kathryn," I murmured.

"If you want me to be," she said softly. I nodded slowly, drawing the dinars from the pouch at my belt and threw them on the table. She turned from me for a moment to catch the owner's attention then gently took my hand in hers to guide me up the stairs.

§¤¤§

Twenty three steps from the table I was at to the base of the staircase. Seventeen steps 'til we reached the landing. Another fifty to reach the last room on the left. It had a simple, iron frame bed, a worn mattress, and windows that were covered with tattered cloth. None of that matter though. I was here only for her, only for the action. Three candles are lit by the bed's side. The wax was dripping, unchecked into a swirling mass of white, red, and green onto the gritty floor.

Her arms wound around my neck, running through the closely shorn hair at the nape of my neck. Her lips descend onto my earlobe alternating between kissing, licking, and biting the overly-sensitive skin. "What do you want me to do, William?" She asked, dipping her voice low.

My hands grasp her hips, dragging her firmly against me. "Be her," I heard myself say. "Be Kathryn."

I closed my eyes then and let the alcohol seep through my veins and fog my mind. Her hands push lightly on my chest, guiding my vest from my shoulders and backing my up against the wall. Small, warm little hands with nimble fingers sought and found the base of my tunic, gliding the fabric up and over my head.

She pressed herself against me, forcing me to open my eyes in reaction. Her tiny hips ground against mine. It had been too long since I had last been with a woman. I grit my teeth against each other, trying to keep my focus. Warm lips suddenly met mine and the rough surface of her tongue ran over the soft tissue of my lips, begging for entrance.

"Let yourself go," she whispered, and I did. I grabbed her wrist a little rougher than I intended to and reversed our positions. My lips traveled to the hollow of her neck and worked upward to the pulse point of her neck. I licked the flesh there, cooling the blood pounding just beneath the surface. Her hands scored through my hair and she let out a gasp. She was burning beneath my touch, panting hard, neck arched back, begging for release. Minx. I took her against the wall the first time. Her bare back burned and bruised by the stones she was rocked against. It was wild and animalistic and short-lived. We both screamed out names into the cavernous room, but neither one was for the other.

I stayed with her long after she had fallen asleep, curled up by my side. I suppose she wasn't use to the extremes I'd taken her through-- slow and soft, rough and fast. I used her like I'd used the mug that had held my mead. When I was drunk enough to believe that she was Kathryn, I had treated her like a thing of beauty, now that I was sober, I thought of her as what she was-- a whore.

I slipped from the bed and dressed quickly, stopping at the bar to fill my flask with ale. Dawn was fast approaching and the castle workers would begin to stir soon. It was nearly time to get back. With one last, regretful glace at the tavern's alley, I made my way toward the castle gates that were being opened for morning delivery. I walked out into the grounds that surrounded the walled city without an odd look from the guards. Blind idiots made this so easy it was pathetic.

I headed back toward the passage opening and then paused to be sick by the wall. I smelled of tobacco, mead, and sex. I was the prime example for a sermon by a priest in the one-god's temple. Funny that. The common man and wealthy man alike attend mass to listen to a priest speak of the sinful acts that man commits and how any man that partakes in them will go to hell, but all the while he is speaking in a language the common man can't understand and speaking a message that the nobility doesn't want to hear. In essence, he is as useful as good mead; makes you feel better about yourself when you're there, but, afterwards leaves a nasty taste in your mouth and feeling dirty.

In need of a bath, I continued to walk along the riverbank until I was out of sight from most passers-by. Stripping down once again, I dove into the frigid waters of the tributary. I felt the cold sink straight into my bones making my well worn muscles ache. It didn't make me feel any cleaner, just lessened the evidence.

I trudged my body out of the waters and dressed quickly, pausing near the bank to look up at the pink-tinged sky. Still shivering from my swim, I lit a fire beside the shore and stared into it. I sat silently for a long moment, gathering my thoughts. I hated introspection. I hated being alone. It almost always meant that I would start thinking about the past-- the things that I had done and the conscience that was still, in part, active would haunt me. I kept myself surrounded by people as often as possible. I kept my mind focused on one task and then the next. Only when it was idle did the memories surface, unbidden and cruel. I'd force them aside, delve deeper into the demon I was becoming and move further away from the man that I was. I lived in the moment of death then. In the blade that cut through my victim. My motives were done out of a warped since of duty to protect, love, and remember my family, but the act was in violence itself. I lived solely in the realm of justice not temperance then. I was no longer supposed to feel anything. I was just supposed to act. The longer I stared into that fire though, the longer that I began to doubt myself.

My conscience kept going back to my actions a few hours ago. Guilt like I hadn't experienced in some time filled me. In the past, I had superimposed Yuling and Lanna's image onto each woman in a search for solace, but this was nothing more than raw, overpowering need. I had closed my eyes and pictured it was her. I moved inside that whore picturing it was her. I'd called out her name as I came, seeing those clouded gray eyes that held so much pain behind them. It was lust. Nothing more. I didn't need for it to be any more. I didn't need any more distractions. I had a task; finish avenging my family's death. After that, nothing mattered.

I replayed the scene in my head again. The small, simple, but heavily loaded question Kathryn had asked me after I told her I intended on going back home.

"What will you do after you kill the king?" she asked. Her eyes were downcast as if she already knew the answer was one that she didn't want to hear. I turned my head so that all I could see was the ceiling, my hands laced together on my stomach.

"Never really thought that part of the plan through, pet. Never like to make plans that I'm pretty sure I won't be around long to see."

"Why do you say that?" she asked, turning towards me. I swear I could feel her eyes boring into me.

"Way I see it; I've made a lot of enemies over the years. I'll probably have to keep moving to stay alive. Might find some land way out in the country, take a rest for a few days, and hunt up some family that has a grudge against me. Always wanted to go out with a fight."

"So that's it? That's all you want--vengeance and then to die? Even believing in the old ways you have to realize that Hades will judge you and put you among the wicked."

I sighed. I'd had this fight with myself more times that I could count. I sure as hell didn't want to have it with her. "Yeah, pet, I know. Figured as much. He'll probably torture me for eternity by making me walk through that house again... Find my family like I did that day, or some big noise like that. He always did have a flare for the big and flashy. Never was my favorite god."

Instead of correcting me like I was expecting her to do, she just laughed. "Zeus isn't much better," she said. I raised my eyebrow at her in disbelief, silently asking her to explain herself.

"He's always running around, cheating on his wife. Never once taking into consideration the fact that he's using all the women that he sleeps with, creating children that he knows will be a target to his enemies and to his wife, and only sometimes stepping in to protect them. Honestly, he's selfish."

I lowered my head. The words hitting a little too close to home. I was too busy fighting for the king to be there to save my own family like I had sworn before God and family. Sensing my distress, she returned to the original discussion.

"You could always build yourself a new identity or take back your old one. Start a new life."

I shook my head. "The Tom Paris that everyone knew and loved is dead," I said simply, trying to close the conversation. Of course Kathryn rarely would back down from an argument with me when she thought that she had a chance of winning.

"You never know. Something small might change things," she said, giving me a kind, sweet, and suggestive smile. I didn't rise to her bait that time.

"And what? I kill the king and take his place? Or go back to being the farmer like my father?"

"What would be wrong with that?" she said, seriously.

"Making myself the king would mean that I and anyone that I cared for would be marked as a target. Living my life as a farmer would mean the same thing. I would be out in the open for anyone with a grudge to find," I said, titling my head and offering her an earnest smile. "I've thought this all through, pet. There's not many options for the likes of me."

"Well...you could always live as you do now; travel from place to place."

"And do what, love? Kill warlords? Make cities safer for the people who live in them? Hire myself out as a mercenary? Take the side of the group with the most monetary resources? Or do you mean fight for the side of the right and good an' all that? Because, if that's what you mean, fat chance. I'll take profit over penance any day."

"Is that all those were to you? Jobs? And what do you do with the money, 'pet?' Buy mead to pour down your throat to drown the pain?"

I clenched my jaw and tightened my hands into tight fists. "Do you really want to know what I spent the money on? Do you?"

She looked up at me with that stare-- the one that was filled with pity, loathing, and a third emotion I wouldn't acknowledge. I swallowed hard and continued on. "Food, weapons, ale, and companionship...at least for a few hours. The type I made no promises to. The type I don't have to worry about being taken from me."

And with that the stare changed to anger and confusion. I softened my gaze on her and cupped her face with my hand with the gentleness that I seldom showed. "I lost everything," I said in a hushed voice. "And I've turned into a killer. You can't expect me to flip a switch and return to the man that I once was. It's impossible, love."

"So the man became a monster that can never be redeemed? I find that hard to believe. There has to be some of Thomas left inside you."

"What makes you say that?"

Covering my hand with her own, she smiled. "You could have killed me the other night, but you didn't. You could have kept me in the dark about your past, but you didn't. Just when I was convinced that you were some sort of killer and nothing more you show this incredibly soft side. For the first time in my life, I can look into a man's eyes and see myself as something more than what I am."

She turned on her side then and feigned sleepiness to avoid any further discussion. I suppose we were both unprepared for the candidness that we'd shared from the beginning of this arrangement. She sought escape in sleep and I sought it in the company of a woman that I pretended to be her.

§¤Ø¤§

Kathryn was still asleep when I returned. A small smile played at the corner of her lips. I couldn't help but envy her. Morpheus had always sent me nightmares to torment me at night. Sometimes they were events drawn from my past and others were events to come. Invariably, I would awake with a start, my heart pounding madly in my chest, and breath coming quickly. They stay with my to this day. Maybe they are penance. Maybe they are meant to keep me from the acts that I commit anyway.

My body was slowly betraying me. I had gone nearly two days without sleep, and, though I knew I could last longer without, I needed my mind to be sharp. Dread filled me as I stripped down to my pantaloons and climbed into bed. Heavy eyelids drew closed quickly, the world shifted to darkness, and the ghastly scenes began filtering in.

I was in my homeland again, searching for one of Crycus' supporters-- an informant that had given the location of my home village, a description of my family, and had insured that I would be the one to find their bodies. His name was Dacian, and he was the king's military advisor.

As a page, I was taught to respect him, to follow his orders to the last detail, and, as a knight, I had blindly continued to do so. It wasn't until I heard his name uttered from the lips of a man I had tortured for answers that I began to question my trust in him, that I began to suspect that something more was involved in this. It was then that the proverbial wool was drawn from my eyes and I saw that all men were capable of evil and how truly naïve I had been.

I sought him out like I had with all of my other victims. After shadowing him for two days, I had learned his schedule in intimate detail. He was a creature of habit-- awaking at the same time every day, saying his prayers at sunrise, noon, and sunset, and he never left the castle walls. Such a sheltered life. He planned strategies for battlefields that he would never see and saw to it that the king's men had the weapons needed to attack. He convinced men to join or drafted them into service with empty promises of high pay and land that they would never live to see. Widows would come begging for their dead lover's pay and he would laugh and turn them away. After all, women were property and an intimate object couldn't own anything.

I struck when the moon was at its highest point, sneaking past the guards in my pauper's wears to Dacian's chambers. He and his wife were fast asleep. Their nine month old boy was in a bassinet only a few feet away. I licked my lips in anticipation; it wasn't every day that I was able to kill off an entire family line in a few hours. Striking quickly and accurately, I covered the wife's mouth with the flat of my hand. Her eyes shot wide open and locked on to mine.

"I'm going to move my hand. Make a sound and I'll kill all three of you before the guards break down the door. Understand?"

She nodded slowly, eyes still wide with fear. Seeing it, sensing it roll off of her in waves was intoxicating. Rather than screaming, she fainted. Typical high society woman. Fighting the urge to laugh, I tied her up to the exposed beams in their room. Her head lolled forward, she looked like a rag doll that was being carried by the arm rather than a grown woman.

I dealt with the child next. Dacian had seen to it that the soldiers knew to kill my entire line. I couldn't help but extend the same courtesy. Using the wife's still-warm pillow, I covered the little bugger's face and held it firmly in place. He went in his sleep without any pain. Seemed unfair considering how my children suffered, but a crying child would wake Dacian up before I had all the fun and games ready.

Walking to the side of the bed, I found the wife's chamber pot, grabbed the handles, and reversed the porcelain so that the contents emptied over the pounce's head. As expected, he awoke with a jerk, gasping for breath. When the stench caught up to his senses, he turned towards me, preparing to shout. His eyes darted from my large smile to his wife behind him.

"Thomas? What is the meaning of this?"

"Thomas is it? Awfully informal way to address someone that is in my position, don't you think? I was thinking something more along the lines of Sir Paris or perhaps Proteus. That's the name I'm going by these days," I said, watching his eyes grow wide.

"Recognize the name, do you? It really is all an interesting story, but I'm afraid that I don't have time to go into details. Just a few hours until your guards come by to check on you, and I don't fancy having to fight my way out of the castle. My sword gets so dull so quickly."

He held my gaze while I spoke then ventured a fast glace at his wife. This amused me to no end. "Like the show, milord?" I said, adding as much venom as I could to his title. "It's almost how I found my wife. Except I haven't gotten a chance to eviscerate her yet."

At this, she began to wail loudly. I approached her, a wide smile tainting my lips. "He didn't tell you that story, did he, love? How he told Crycus' men where to find my family. Gave the order himself. I found Lanna in my barn trussed up like a pig at the butcher's," I said, letting the cold steel of my sword kiss her pale cheek. Her eyes darted from mine to his and back. "But that wasn't the worst of it...no, love, he had to kill the whole village including my children.

"P-Please," she ventured. "Take my life but spare my child's."

I laughed. "Girl's got fire, Dacian. I'll give her that," I said, turning toward her. I left her side and moved to the bassinet to look at the unmoving corpse. "He killed everyone in my village including my children," I said, looking up to meet Dacian's hate-filled stare. "Didn't want any witnesses. Brilliant statistical move to protect whomever you're working for, but every action has it's consequences, mate."

I reached down and pulled the child from the pile of covers it was under and carried it to the bed, noting that it was still warm to my touch. "Did Miral and Johnathan scream when Crycus' men split them open? Did you even ask how it was done?"

Feeling daring, he reached out and pulled the baby into his grasp. The look of fear on his face melted into disbelief then anger and confusion. It really was priceless.

"You killed him. You killed Nathan. He was only a boy." This set the woman wailing even louder, but the sound was drowned out by my laughter. "Yeah. What of it?"

"He was an innocent."

The laughter died on my lips and the blood rage took over. My demon screamed for blood and it wouldn't be denied. "There are no innocents in this world. You or whoever took him would have corrupted him just like you did to me. Kind of funny if you think about it; your programs taught me how to fight...at least the basics, and now I'm going to use those skills against you."

"You wouldn't dare. The King will have his men looking for you as soon as they find me dead."

"He's already looking for me...Proteus that is. Has a hefty reward for me for killing Tom Paris," I laughed and walked back towards his wife. She was still crying, but softly now.

"It's true, isn't it? He really did do those things."

"Yeah, pet, he did."

I felt rather than saw the old man rise out of bed and grab his sword. He was coming towards me, trying to use stealth so I wouldn't detect him.

"Then why kill me? I didn't do anything."

"You've seen too much," I said. With that, Dacian attacked me from behind, using his full force to bring down the blade. His forward momentum was enough to flip him onto the ground in front of me, the sword clamoring against the stone floor. A defeated look crossed his face as I stepped onto and over him to reach his wife. The sharpened edge of my sword sliced through her, a final breath escaping her lungs as her life poured from her.

"That's how I found her," I said, turning towards Dacian. A heartbeat passed as the old man looked from the bed where his dead child lay to me to his wife and back again. A slow, howl escaped the man's throat. He reached into his belt to draw his dagger. Not to avenge their deaths but to end the pain. I let him to it. There was no greater dishonor for a warrior in our culture than to take their own life.

I watched the blood pour from his chest wound and the empty look enter his eyes. The hilt of the dagger beat back and forth with the beat of his heart. Its intervals grew further apart until there was nothing left.

Heavy boots clattered towards the door, drawing me from my reverie. I leapt from the window and out onto the streets of my sire's land, mounted my ride, and rode hard to the nearest stream to clean up. My boat would be leaving in the morning.

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