Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop, or any form of the story Scheherazade.
Chapter 7
The next thing Faye was aware of, were the sound of a man's voice, and the sensation of a hand roughly shaking her from sleep. Her first reaction was indignation at such a sudden and rude awakening from blissful sleep.
"Wake up, you stupid girl," said the threatening voice from earlier. At this sound, Faye shot up immediately, her stance at alert and guarded attention. The room was now lit very brightly, allowing her to examine her surroundings much clearer.
It was indeed a very beautifully furnished and decorated room. The carpets curtains, and bedspread were all richly colored, and tastefully arranged. The theme was red and brilliantly shiny metallic colors such as bronze, gold, and silver, all stitched intricately together in designs of roses and paisleys and artfully placed solids. This was no pauper's room that was for sure.
Coming back to herself finally, she remembered exactly where she was, all of the things that had happened to her within the last two days, and exactly who she was sharing a room with at this very moment. With reluctance, she turned her to look at the man kneeling next to her on the floor, with a bracing expression on her face.
"Well…" Said Faye, hoping he would say something, but he continued to stare blankly at her. Apparently he didn't remember her. She didn't know if she should feel good or bad about that… "Nice to meet you?" Holding out her hand for a handshake, she was trying with all her might to make this seem like a long-standing arrangement, and not one of the scariest and not to mention weirdest situations she had ever found herself in.
Upon finding that he was not really in the mood for niceties, she continued with more confidence than she felt. What had happened to this man to make him so cold and cruel? He seemed like such a good-natured person before. And what had happened to that beautiful blonde woman at the ball? Faye promised herself to get to the bottom of this mystery and to right it if she could. Otherwise, how would she ever get free of her imprisonment long enough to see her father and her home again?
"I guess you're not up for introductions tonight. That's fine… I was sort of hoping to get your name, but if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. Well… Let me get to the story, then, if you're ready to hear it?" She sat up and shied away from him as if he were a snake readying to strike, and sat in an overstuffed chair as far away from him as possible. He sat on the bed and lit a cigarette, staring at Faye cryptically from across the room.
And now it was up to Faye to think, and think very, very hard, back to the stories of her childhood. She counted on the king's liking the story for her survival, and so she needed to pick exactly the right one. She couldn't tell a romance, which might set off his anger. What kind of story would please a bloodthirsty tyrant who married wives only to kill them on their wedding nights? Hmm…
"This story is called 'Sinbad,'" she said, with a smile. "It is a story of adventure at sea, and pirates searching for a treasure worthy of the gods."
The girl in the buttercup-colored dress was in her element as she began to tell about Sinbad and his journeys. Her arms and hands made the movements of the pirates at their mightiest battles, and she stood and played all of the characters with gusto and unrivaled showmanship. The ending was blood and glory and triumph, leaving her audience quite stricken.
Faye curtsied low for the ending, and whispered the final words with her eyes closed. Upon standing and opening her eyes, she saw that the king had a very strange expression on his face. Quite suddenly, he yawned loudly and stretched luxuriously. He then got up from his place and went towards Faye, who backed away from him with apprehension.
"Very well. You have a pardon until tomorrow night. Make the best of the day tomorrow, because it will be your last." He seemed to appraise her with new eyes, and he took her shoulders in his hands possessively. "You don't look anything like her." He said this so quietly that he could only be thinking aloud. His left eye, she observed upon close inspection, was darker than his right. She lifted her hand up to his face.
"Your eyes…" She said, distractedly.
Before she knew what was happening, she was pushed away with violence, her arm hitting the bedpost quite painfully. It throbbed as she looked up to see him standing in the doorway, seemingly wanting to impart some sort of warning, but unable to find the right words. With a conflicted expression, he slammed the door behind him. Faye then heard the lock slide into place and his footsteps running quite frantically away from her.
The following morning, Faye awoke feeling rather off. Who could blame her? The previous day, she had been kidnapped, forced to marry someone, almost killed by her husband, and then used every last bit of her cunning to stay alive through the night. And now she had a day at her leisure to think of another story to distract her husband with, so he would allow her to live for the following day. Life just seemed to get more and more difficult for her.
There came a knock upon her door, and a servant brought food in for her. The woman was extremely quiet, almost rudely so, however, she did do a great deal of staring at Faye as she got out of bed and settled herself at the nearby table to eat. After about three or four bites, Faye began to get a little miffed.
"What're you lookin' at?" she snapped vehemently, her eyes ablaze. Perhaps she hadn't gotten quite enough sleep…
"Oh! Nothing, I'm sorry Your Majesty!" said the servant as she fled the room, face deathly pale with fright.
"That's right nothing," Faye muttered malevolently, pouring a cup of coffee. "I'm not some damn attraction at the zoo…"
And so the rumor was spread throughout the castle that King Spike had finally married an equal in temperament. Perhaps that was why he had spared her on her wedding night. Why not, after all? No doubt he saw in her a kindred spirit in wickedness. Ah, what to do? The king still ruled the same as he always did, but since Julia he had been coldhearted and went through his duties with odd mechanical movements, as if his skin was metal and his insides were naught but cogs and gears and switches. He was a soulless being. The only times he ever seemed truly alive were after his wedding nights, but that fact did not give much comfort.
Queen Faye spent her first day at the castle exploring to her heart's desire, and also seeking solitude. She made herself acquainted with the grounds, and the places she could go to be completely undisturbed, if that was her wish. In more than one of her sanctuaries she managed to write a very long letter to her father, about what had happened and pleading for any advice he could give her. Of course he would know what to do. All of her life, her father had managed to find a solution for every problem. He would be able to help her. But… who knew if she would be alive to receive the replying letter? How would she know if the king would catch on to her plan or not?
It was no use to sit and stew about things like that. So Faye mailed the letter, and continued her wanderings, determined to find distractions from the conflict she felt raging within her. Try as she might to ignore the speedy progression of time, in almost no time at all, she was back up in her room, without any possible means of escape. She had tried, sadly, to no avail: invariably she was always sent away, politely, of course, she was the queen, but she was sent away nonetheless. And that was how she ended up being locked up in her room, on the king's orders.
She was on her guard when he walked through her door once again. This time she made sure that the room was well lit. If he was going to pull out a dagger, she wanted to be able to see it.
"The guard whose arm you've broken has asked that you pay for his doctor's bill," said Spike, who seemed less than pleased. "The table you set fire to was thankfully saved before it was reduced to rubble. Before you arrived here it had been in my family for seven generations, by the way," he sat in the chair across from Faye, who was sitting in the window seat. "And the gardeners would like you to write a formal apology to them for ruining the twenty year-old hedge which you tried to climb over today. We'll see if you live long enough to do just that. By the way, have you been this much of a nuisance you entire life?"
Before she could stop herself, her mouth escaped any control she may have had over it.
"I've been told that I'm very stubborn, but then again, intrinsically, most women are. I doubt that you've kept your previous wives alive long enough to find that out," she said sweetly, releasing some of her steam. This turned out to be a rather large mistake.
Spike rose to his feet in omnipotent fury, lifting her from her seat by a simple grasp on her shoulders, and holding her aloft in the air.
"Woman, may I remind you that our deal is just about up! You've had your day, which I sincerely regret giving to you! I hope you've prepared yourself!" His eyes were aglow with a fierce, red light, almost demonic in their malice.
Her feet dangling beneath her and her shoulders being pressed together on both sides, she uttered a soft cry before the breath was expelled from her and she could not regain it. God, he was going to crush her ribs and suffocate her!
"Please!" Her voice had completely left her, and all she could do was mouth what she wanted to say. That was not a very good sign…
"Begging will do you no good," he exclaimed.
Frantically, as her face began to turn red from lack of air, she thought as hard as she could. What could she do? She couldn't kick him; he had pinned her legs to the seat! Besides, that would only make him angry; she wanted to get on his good side, not make more of an enemy of him! What could she say to make him let her go? Her vision began to get blurry.
In the back of her mind, she saw the ball, where she had first met this man. The orchestra had played so beautifully that night… It was such a nice ball. The first, and last, that she would probably ever get to see. Tears began to fall down her face, to her great dismay. He wanted her to suffer. No, that wasn't true. He couldn't have. He wanted to escape. What could she say to bring the handsome, honorable, yet lonely king back to the surface of all of that pain and hatred?
"Flower waltz!" Faye managed to mouth at him, his eyes boring into her own. "The Flower Waltz!" She felt her lungs begin to burn with the need for air, and her eyes rolled up into her head. Beyond all comprehension, her mind reached its peak of chaos, and her body fell to the floor, and crumpled as she coughed violently. She managed to get to her knees, clutching at her throat. She began to sob; her entire body shook with each breath. This was too much for her to handle. Why not just give up? She was so tired, after all, and so full of sadness. It would be so easy to just surrender, and fall back into that black abyss. It would be so easy to take up his dagger right now, as he was kneeling next to her, and pierce her heart, or slash her throat. That would be the end of it, really. How blissful it would be, the escape from pain. After all, it would be better to die by her own hands, than to let another do it for her. No doubt he would thank her for saving him the further trouble.
Almost beyond her control, her hand grasped the dagger and she backed away from him, her back hitting the dresser. She pressed the point of the dagger over her heart, her face contorted with single-minded determination, and had almost plunged it in halfway before to her great surprise, he pulled it out, threw it at the wall behind him, and began yelling at her. His voice was far away and muffled as he shook her, his face now worried and strangely clear.
"What is wrong with you?" were the words that finally registered with her. His hand was pressed to the gash over her heart, in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding.
Her voice came out in a raspy whisper, and she winced as she spoke.
"Make up your mind, you damned lunatic! Do you want me alive or dead?" Her eyes were ablaze with a restrained fury.
He spluttered, his face, once more, a mask of confusion and bewilderment. Why did he save her? Wasn't that what he wanted, for her to die? Why had he put his hand to the wound as though to stop the blood, why had he thrown away the dagger, when it had almost reached her heart? Why did he now find himself crushing her body to him, his heart about to burst with remorse? She had said 'Flower Waltz,' and why had that stopped him? For the first time since Julia, his mind was clear, and he knew that he had done so many unforgivable things.
"Please forgive me," he said. He felt her hands on his sides, trying feebly to push him away in her anger, but he refused to let go. He picked her up and felt her fists hit him in their drained resentment. He saw her mouth "put me down, you fucking asshole," and he set her on the bed. Swiftly, he went into the bathroom, and came out with a small white box, out of which he took a roll of gauze.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, in a voice that made Faye gasp in surprise. That was the voice from the ball! And before she could get over that little shock, he began to unlace her bodice, and she regained quite enough of her strength to elbow him in the face. From behind her she hurt a distinct "Gah!" and she grinned matter-of-factly. The triumph slid rather quickly from her face, however, as she noticed that he had continued to undress her. Her bodice was thrown to the ground, and the blood-soaked sleeve of her gown was pulled down far enough to reveal the deep gash, which the dagger had left behind. Any rebellion she had left within her smoldered and died as he began to tenderly wrap her shoulder, gently caressing her skin in his ministrations.
Staring up into his face, she saw there a quiet determination. Before long, her treatment was finished, and he made to get off the bed and leave. More to her own surprise than his, she grasped his hand, and pulled him back. His mouth was agape, and his eyes were wide, as she pulled back the covers and helped him in to the bed. She got up and went around the room, blowing out all of the candles except for the one on the nightstand, before settling in beside him. Awkwardly, she looked at him beside her, to see him staring off towards the opposite wall in a sort of embarrassed gaze. Her elbow nudged him, and he turned to her.
"What's your name?" She asked, her voice still raspy and painful.
"You mean you don't…?"
She shook her head.
"Spike," he said, still very aware that this situation just got weirder and weirder.
"Faye," she said, pointing at her chest and smiling rather wanly. She then blew out the last candle, and snuggled into his side. His arms fell comfortingly around her, and it wasn't long before she fell into a very peaceful and dreamless sleep. It was longer before Spike slept, however, as he dreaded the person he would return to being in the morning. Would he return to being the murderous and remorseless man he had been before?
He wouldn't like that, because this girl seemed so nice… Her story the previous night had completely shocked him. He had planned to kill her after the first few sentences, but the way she told it! Not to mention the story itself: where had she found the inspiration for such a tale? He doubted he would ever forget it. It made his heart ache for all of the things he had never managed to do within his own life. It made him sad that such adventures were reserved only for those who had no responsibilities or duties.
And the girl… In the candlelight, he saw her emerald-deep eyes flashing and moving with silent emotion, her violet hair glistening with fairy-tale beauty. There was something about her that he couldn't quite place, something so familiar but he couldn't put his finger on it.
Ah, well. In any case, he had her with him now, and she was safe for the moment. She fit so well within his embrace, and he held her tighter for the thought that occurred to him then. What would he do when the fiend within him returned to take her the following evening? She was the only one who had managed to subdue him thus far! Spike then knew that he had to do everything in his power to keep her with him. She was his only hope for salvation.
(Ok, so here it is. It's quite long, I think… I've been writing it for a while now. I hope you like it. ) All I have to do now is answer some rather interesting reviews I've gotten, lol…)
poptate: Thanks for the review! There are millions and millions of versions of "A Thousand and One Arabian Nights." To be honest, the only real authentic version I'm very acquainted with is the symphony "Scheherazade" by Rimsky-Korsakov. That's pretty much what I'm basing my story on. Thank you for your suggestions, too! I'll take them into account when revising.
Shon Poe: Yes… It does take me forever to update, for which I cannot apologize enough. It is my summer vacation now, however, which may or may not mean that many chapters will be updated within the following weeks. Please rest assured that even though updates are rare, the end of the story shall, without a doubt, be written sooner or later.
