Full Summary: A Forgotten Past; A Damned Present; An Unknown Future
Lady Serenity had been captured by a living legend, an immortal named Endymion. Now her siege has sparked a war that threatens to destroy both the Eastern and Western kingdoms of Dante. Entangled into a web of secrets, lies, betrayal and desire, everything she has ever known has fallen apart and her confusion is consuming her. Serenity must now find refuge in the arms of her immortal.
Two worlds will go to war for honor and power. Many will suffer for the sake of revenge. Alliances will be betrayed and a legend will be formed. The price of blood will be paid and a kingdom will burn to the ground - all in the name of love.
AN: Not a song fic!! I just borrowed the name from Evanescence's song because it happened to fit. This story is also an Alternate Universe so there's no sailor scouts or anything. (cough) Yea!! I finally got my new story out! Wohoo! I've been working on it since October so I'm particularly proud of this baby! (hugs story) Just a fair warning that this fic is completely different from PM both in writing style, overall view and plotline. This fic was also inspired by "The Illiad" by Homer and SailorPerfect's "Dark King".
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Even in the dead of night, some can still hear the cries of lost souls wandering throughout a limbo from which there is no escape, whispering into the dark shadows for all to hear their suffering.
Time has changed the course of the world dramatically, ever since the battle that determined the fate of mortals took place. Over the years, what was once history became legend and the mortals know not of the truth that lies behind the myth of the immortals. Every prince and peasant has succumbed to the appeal of the tale of the immortals, speaking of a great battle between humans and demons. As the story goes, it was all for control over the legendary kingdoms of the Eastern and Western lands of Dante, a nation famed for it's lush green territory and named after the man who founded it.
At one time, both demons and humans roamed the earth, each in search of an identity for himself. They had never cared to acknowledge each other's presence; perhaps, some were unaware of the other's existence. Humans kept to their own business and never bothered the demons and the demons did vise versa. Of course, there always were the stray rebels who didn't care about the unwritten laws that left humans out of all demon affairs. They persisted in rousing trouble and terrorizing innocent victims for the fun of a good laugh, and they, like mortals who had committed crimes, were dealt with ease. Nevertheless, one act of mortal death had started the battle from which the myth began.
The myth spoke of the demise of the powerful immortal Lord Dante and his kingdom in the Western lands, Aramais. Some versions of the myth even state that his death had been the ultimate act of rebellion from his oldest son and that all of it had been planned.
Few have scoffed at the frivolous story but even fewer know the true events of that dark night....
Growing up in a dreary world where stories of the ancients were the only entertainment, one couldn't help but hear of the endless tales of mythical beings. Demons walking among humans, possessing incredible abilities no mere mortal could comprehend. A spark of intrigue had filtered within the Eastern lands of Dante as the stories spread far and wide, but along with the mystery also came the fear of the unknown.
But who was to say that these creatures of fairy tales were even real? No one knew. Like the conjurers of black magic, it was believed that these beings could disguise themselves in a form of a human and bring unspeakable horrors.
People began to gossip and talk, each one convinced that he had encountered a demon of some kind. Many started concocting outlandish tales of horrific creatures that one might dream about in a dreadful nightmare, evil creatures that could control your will and warp your mind until you were nothing but an emotionless shell of your former self, a vessel used for a demon's bidding, a breathing, functional being who knew nothing and felt nothing.
Small riots and skirmishes began to surface throughout the largest kingdom of the Eastern lands, claims that everyone from a weird neighbor to a disgruntled mother-in-law were suspected as demons. Fearing that his people would soon raise panic amongst themselves, King Syrus of Athynia, the largest kingdom of all the Eastern lands, brought an end to their quarrelling by arrogantly exclaiming that if any creatures of myth did exist, then they were assured that their home would never fall under a demon's rule. Being one of the most renowned warriors of his time, King Syrus believed his kingdom would never fall prey to any person, legend or not. With the issue behind him, Syrus resumed his rule over the people and soon the whole ordeal died down painfully slow.
That is when Athynia took a turn for the worst.
Separated from his unit and lost on the outskirts of the lands, a new soldier, a young man, stumbled upon a duel between two men. Stunned, the young boy watched on in mute praise as both men fought vigorously, displaying obvious skill of the swords they wielded. However, the boy's attention rapidly shifted to the wounds each man had developed. The gashes went deep into the skin and muscle and both were losing insurmountable amounts of blood, staining their clothes, swords, and the grounds they stood on.
Yet the men continued to fight unfazed by the state of their bodies, as if it didn't really matter at all. The boy was both amazed and confused at the sight of the two strangers heavily injured and still fighting hard. The boy listened closely to try and decipher the words and names both men seemed to grunt while dueling, curious as to whom they were.
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Endymion had sent Malachite, his first in command, falling to the ground with a swift kick to the stomach, groaning in pain. With fast reflexes, Malachite rolled away from the down swing of Endymion's sword and pushed himself up to his feet again.
The duel ended when Endymion pierced Malachite straight through the chest with a clean stoke of his long sword. Malachite stumbled unceremoniously to the ground, falling to one knee heavily. However, he immediately pulled himself up from his position and composed himself and his torn, blood- ridden uniform as best as he could in a matter of mere seconds. Silence seemed to overcome the two men as Malachite pulled the sword from his gushing chest calmly, wincing only slightly, the sickly sound of metal sliding through flesh and muscle reverberating through the trees.
The soldier nearly collapsed in shock as he saw the blood-covered man fall to the ground with a sword embedded in his chest and get up again just as quickly. Immobile where he stood and barely able to breathe, the soldier numbly listened as Endymion spoke.
"My apologies, my friend. But you do know how a good fight allows me to release my frustration."
"I understand, my Lord. But do you truly find it difficult to show at least a bit of mercy to your first in command?" Malachite jokingly questioned Endymion, yet the soldier found no humor in the situation.
"Now what would be the excitement in that? It's not as if you won't heal anyways. Have you forgotten already that you are immortal?" Both of them seemed to laugh at this.
"So it would seem. But from the way you fight, Endy, one might think you were actually considering Seiya's challenge to overthrow Syrus and take Athynia as your own." Endymion dismissed the statement by turning away and walking towards the direction of Aramais.
"Come, Malachite. We should head back West if we are to make it home before sundown. Then we shall tend to our wounds." There was an unspoken agreement between them.
A slight rustle in the bushes caught both men's attention as they heard a twig snap. Quickly drawing his sword and already in battle stance, Endymion held up his hand and motioned for Malachite to come closer as they both closed in on the source of the noise. Suddenly, a small cat jumped from within the bushes and stretched, eyeing the two men curiously. Both men sighed in relief.
"My Lord, I think it is best if we were to leave. It is not wise to be so far away from Aramais. Your father, Lord Dante, would be terribly displeased if he knew." Malachite suggested, putting away his sword and covering his still gushing wound with one hand.
"Then let us go." Endymion watched the bushes carefully, sensing a presence but convinced himself that he was imagining things. The boy began to breathe once again as he anxiously watched the men move away from him.
Nearby, two horses happened to be bound to a tree, grazing; a detail the soldier had failed to notice earlier. Before the young lad realized it, the men untied their horses and rode off into the neighboring Western lands, still covered in their own blood.
With nausea rising in his throat, the boy became as pale as a ghost when the reality of what he saw hit him. Determined to warn the king of these powerful men, the soldier scurried back towards the castle, staggering as he went and praying that everyone would believe him.
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Rumors spread across the lands like wildfire as the king was alerted of this troublesome matter. What was supposed to be a time of prosperity and festivities became a time of turmoil and depression. The people of his kingdom united as one in mass hysteria, demanding King Syrus make good on his promise to them.
The infamous Aramais, a distant, unsocial kingdom, was much larger than Athynia and the only kingdom in the entire Western lands. It was believed to be ruled by a recluse that was a direct descendant of Dante. But who would've believed that Aramais would have been ruled by none other than Dante himself, an immortal?!
Though it did explain an awful lot about why Aramais had never bothered to initiate any sort of conformation of a settlement, preferring to stay neutral in all matters, or had any contact with Athynia or her previous rulers. On many occasions, the monarchs of Aramais had been cordially invited to a majestic masquerade ball or a grandiose celebration but had politely declined, giving no alternate excuse.
Slightly paranoid over this unforeseen dilemma, Syrus became worried that these "immortals" would try to conquer both his kingdom and the smaller ones surrounding him. Who knew what power they were capable of or what they might be planning even now? He had chastised himself on his way of thinking.
Syrus had no right to jump to conclusions based on the fact that Aramais was inhabited by people that were 'different' from them, even if a situation like this had never occurred before. They were most likely similar to all the other kingdoms around Athynia who were trying their best to keep the people's interest at heart. However, Aramais desired more privacy and an impartial point of view.
A rational-humane part of his mind was receptive of the idea that these immortals could be willing to form a pact if compelled by Athynia's king; they could be very useful allies. And if Syrus didn't do something soon, his people would undoubtedly raise hell about it and do something reckless.
Standing firm on the idea that maybe these so-called "demons" could be negotiated with, Syrus sent forth his most trusted messengers on a journey to the Western lands; a plan that was of the utmost secrecy. No one but the messengers, the king's advisor and King Syrus himself knew about the accord the boys carried to the immortals in hopes of forming an alliance.
Unfortunately, the poor messengers paid with their lives for the sake of their King and Athynia.
It still remains a mystery as to who had brutally murdered the boys on their mission. Each of their bodies had been dumped not to far from the site where the soldier had originally seen the immortals, the borderline of Athynia. Brutally beaten to death, these young messengers were hardly recognizable, even as human beings. Peculiar marks were found upon each of their bodies that couldn't be identified and and a crest with intricate writing and symbols had been found lying in a puddle of blood near the bodies-the crest of Dante. The knapsack one of the messengers carried revealed that the message had never been delivered or perhaps, it had not been accepted.
Why? That was the only word that would keep running through Syrus' mind. Why would Lord Dante kill an innocent messenger and deny the request of a king to form an alliance? Was he the very epitome of what the stories had made immortals out to be? Was he so brash and cruel as to kill any being he found 'inferior' to him? And if so, was it only a matter of time until he made Athynia the target of his malice?
Betrayed, confused and consumed by his fury, Syrus' gut instinct told him that he should overthrow Lord Dante and enslave the immortals, for they were not to be trusted. Perhaps, he believed that he could redeem himself to his people by way of blood shed as an atonement. So he plotted and planned, forming a large campaign composed of thousands of men willing to sacrifice all and die for Athynia.
As months passed by, no word came from Aramais. They remained quiet and uneventful like they'd always been while the entire kingdom of Athynia was in an uproar. While Syrus gathered an army in secret, he announced that the people of Athynia had nothing to fear because he had found a way to kill the immortals, a secret that even the wise elders didn't know. The people were suprised yet thrilled at the prospect; though the stories talked about a one true way to kill an immortal, no one knew how it was done.
Some say King Syrus made a deal with the devil to get the information; others say he'd prayed for God's help. Though there was no definate answer as to how he knew how to kill an immortal, Syrus made sure his army was taught and trained how to do it.
Every mortal and demon could feel the approaching sense of doom, hovering over the lands of Dante like a foreboding, dark cloud as an eerie mist settled over Aramais.
That night, the hollow, ebony darkness had blanketed the soldiers from view as they approached the Western gates of Aramais. Undetected, the men of Syrus' campaign sleekly snaked their way through the sleepy city up towards the castle. The ambush upon the castle had caught the immortals unexpected, yet they quickly adjusted to the situation, arming their forces as efficiently as possible.
Though completely unaware of the surprise attack, armies of the immortals were armed and ready to do battle within a matter of minutes. Chaos and carnage ensued while the battle continued for what seemed like years, while in reality only lasted until dawn. King Syrus' army came to a standstill with the immortals as there were more of them than Syrus had anticipated.
Though hundreds of his men were being captured and wounded, King Syrus refused to give up on his campaign and continued to fight, soon coming across the Lord Dante himself.
With a desperate cry into the night, King Syrus attacked the Immortal Lord himself, initiating in an intense, bloody combat that is still prominent as one of the greatest fights of the time.
The facts concerning the battle are obscure even to this day. No one quite knows how King Syrus had died during the fight or how Lord Dante was killed. The only thing that was eminent from the tale is that Prince Odyrius, the son of King Syrus, had confronted Lord Dante after the Lord had murdered his father. After so doing, the Prince brutally killed Dante.
Ironically, he was the first immortal that had ever tasted death and Prince Odyrius was the first mortal to ever kill an immortal.
The Immortal Lord's eldest son, Endymion, who had not been too far away from the scuffle, witnessed his father's death. Watching his father die before his eyes, the young, horrified Endymion stood paralyzed. With a vengeance, he furiously went after King Syrus's son, Prince Odyrius. Unfortunately, the cowardly prince had run away from the scene.
Endymion then took out his anger upon any unfortunate mortals that happened to cross his path during the heated battle, killing them brutally instead of capturing them like the Immortal soldiers had been ordered to do. Around that time was when the first wave of the Immortal army started to crumble; the mortal men were beginning to kill the Immortals. The Immortals were shocked at the revelation; up to that point, it hadn't been believed to be possible to kill an immortal. Syrus's army quickly took advantage of the Immortals confusion and began a full-flegded attack upon Aramais' castle.
The battle raged on but as the Immortals grew tired and weak, they refused to surrender.
As dawn rapidly drew near, Endymion had single-handedly slaughtered what must have been dozens of mortal men. Remorseful of his rash actions and watching his race die before his eyes, Endymion forced his dwindling military to retreat deep into the forest of the Western lands, taking a solemn oath never to kill again.
Over four decades have passed since that fateful night, the night Lord Dante had fallen and the immortals were driven back to what little was left of their land after the mortals claimed it as their own. They sank into the darkness of the dense forest to reside in their shame, never to come out.
Until now.
Although, time has made all things grow weary. King Odyrius, Syrus' son, lives on and thrives off of his power. Endymion has learned from his mistakes but still craves revenge for his father's death.
Two worlds will go to war for honor and power. Many will suffer for the sake of revenge. Alliances will be betrayed and a legend will be formed. The price of blood will be paid and a kingdom will burn to the ground - all in the name of love.
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-30 years after-
Ever since he was a child, he'd heard countless tales about mythical creatures that walked among humans but never considered the idea much. He'd never really taken them into account or bothered to learn the details. What significance did they hold where he was concerned? After all, they were just stories and he was just a mere beggar who wondered the streets. All his life consisted of was finding a means of food and shelter from day to day so that he could stay alive.
Yet many men in the town square of Athynia had recounted their witness of such creatures who drank the blood of helpless victims, of beautiful women who sang songs, alluring men only to bring them to their deaths. But he had never truly believed them, even as a small, gullible child.
Not until he saw her.
He found himself in the midsts of an angel. A Goddess whose beauty was ethereal and gifted with an enchanting voice. He was not worthy enough to look upon her yet he was unable to divert his eyes from her beauty. Luckily, the long rows of bushes and exotic flowers hid him well from her view but he could look upon her as clear as a sunny day.
Though he'd passed by on many occasions on his way to Athynia's castle's kitchen, today was the first time he'd ever felt the need to venture into the fragrant garden full of flowers, ranging from every shape and color. Upon entering, he heard a lady's voice singing a sweet, innocent melody. Like the helpless man he was, followed the siren's song to the source, only to find a scene that made his heart hammer strongly in his frail chest like the steady beating of a drum. He spotted the enchantress by the white, marble fountain in a clearing of the garden, singing a hypnotic tune that drifted on the winds to anyone willing to listen.
He tried to catch his breath, but found it oddly difficult as he greedily gulped what fresh air he could manage into his constricting lungs. She was nothing like he'd ever seen before. She sat there on the edge of the fountain in all her angelic radiance; he felt privileged to witness this angel's ascent to heaven. Though he was human, he had an irrepressible impulse to touch her, a primitive urge he didn't understand; he wasn't content to just stand within the bushes of the garden as a spectator.
No, she was too gorgeous to just be admired; she had been purely crafted to touch and be touched, of that he was sure. He vaguely recalled a man's tale of an angel whose robe was touched by a human and in return the human was blessed for honoring the angel. This angel would surely grant him one of her blessings if he humbled himself before her. After all, angels were supposed to take pity on the less fortunate like himself.
She giggled to herself and continued to play with a tiny white rabbit that sat in her lap, blissfully unaware of the strange man that watched her. He took a small step forward but stopped immediately, fearful and hesitant of the magnificent creature who was oblivious to his presence.
Gathering his courage, he advanced towards her again, slipping on a mossy patch of rocks. His arms flailed about wildly, reaching for anything that might break his fall, and grasped a branch. But the thin branch gave way from his measly weight and he tumbled towards the ground, crashing to the soft grass below him. The pain from the fall began to seep into his tired body as he lay there for a few seconds, inhaling the sweet smelling grass to calm his nerves.
As he lifted his head and spit the dirt from his mouth, he cursed fluently with a collage of colorful words that only a person who grew up on the streets could speak and comprehend. He acknowledged the sound of a choked screech as he pulled himself up from the ground, an all too familiar sound that was accompanied at first glace of his appearance.
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Hearing the loud ruckus, the rabbit that was sitting on Serenity's lap hopped off and scampered away in fright.
Confused and curious, Serenity turned to find the cause of the resonant sound that echoed within the clearing of the garden. Her eyes grew wide as she quickly got up from her position on the fountain, panic immediately registering in her mind at the sight of something black and flowing sprawled on the ground. Apprehensive but very curious all the same, she pushed her fear far back in her mind as she cautiously moved towards the black material that laid motionless on the ground.
Serenity approached the crumpled bundle of black carefully, holding out her hands in offering, perceiving it as a wounded animal. She scrambled back a few steps in distress when the black creature began to rustle around on the grass, grunting foul words and phrases she had only heard the servants use. Her eyebrows furrowed together and a fervid scream caught in her throat as she watched the black cloth rise up and fall away to reveal.....a man?
At least, she thought it was a man. He hunched over horribly as he stood; his skin was pale and grimy looking, oddly resembling a cadaver. Panic rose swiftly in Serenity's mind and body but upon seeing the man-if he could be rightfully called so-standing before her. But as she assessed his appearence, she took pity on him, her fear dampening until it was nothing but an afterthought.
He looked so very tired and hungry with purple bags under his green eyes that made them seem to protrude from his head, those same eyes hollow and glassy. His gangly body was nothing but skin and bones and he was in desperate need of a bath, his dark hair dirty and oily with all sorts of foreign objects stuck in it.
Serenity scrunched her delicate nose in distaste as she covered her face with her hands, striving to keep her stomach from churning as the acrid stench of the man wafted through the air. He smelled like he just crawled out of a sewer. She could only assume he was some beggar off the street, a man who could never escape the grasps of poverty. But if that was true, then how on earth did he end up in the castle's garden?
Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he squinted his eyes against the harsh sunlight in order to see the figure of the angel that stood not too far away from him. Now that he had her attention, he might as well make use of it. He lowered his head to keep from making direct eye contact with her. For if he looked straight into the angel's eyes, she might find it as a sign of disrespect and then shun his request.
His fragile body began to quake with nervousness as the words he wanted to say died on his tongue. He shut his eyes in disgust over his own cowardness. It was no time to be nervous. For all he knew, the angel might fly away at any given moment, without a single thought about what he had to say.
But how do ask such a beautiful angel for a blessing? Surely, it would be rude to expect an angel to bless him without offering her something in return. Yet that was exact reason why he so desperately required her help; he had nothing. He needed her blessing so that he might live without having to scrounge around an alley to find food. Needed her voice to comfort his broken heart when nobody else cared. Needed her loving embrace to soothe his aching soul when there seemed to be no purpose in his life. He needed her.
Abruptly, he jerked his head up and lurched forward with outstretched arms, spooking the dainty girl who'd been silently watching him in the process.
"Please, do not be frightened, fair angel. I ask only for mercy." He begged in a scratchy voice, his tongue still refusing to co-operate with him properly. He stepped forward once to get closer to her only to have her step back to each of his advances.
It was an automatic response for Serenity to retreat as he neared. Though she did feel sympathy for the poor man's predicament, she had no clue as to what his intentions might be, whether they were good or bad. For but a brief moment, she considered the outrageous idea of running away from the depraved man. Even if he was thin and fast, she clearly had the advantage of the garden and the guards on her side. No one knew this garden as well as she did.
"I demand to know who you are and what you want from me. If you are here to abduct me, I assure you that..." She spoke proudly, her voice turning cold and commanding.
"No, no, no. Nothing like that, dear angel. I wish to humble myself before you and beg for your blessing, that is all. I will trade you my very soul, if only I may receive your blessing," he cried in self-shame, falling to his knees and bowing to emphasis his point. "Please, please, I beg of you; I need your blessing so that I may have a reason to live." He dug his hands in the grass, grabbing fistfuls of dirt in his own desperation, holding himself back from throwing his body at her feet and groveling.
How did he have to prove that he was needy enough for her blessing? He had no family, no friends, no one; he had nothing to his name. He didn't even have a name! There was nothing in this world for him and if someone like her were to smile and care about his God forsaken soul than maybe, he could find meaning in his life. She could give him hope for a future...
Her eyes wide, mouth agape and a perplexed look etched on face, Serenity didn't know what to make of the situation at hand. Had the man gone completely daft? Why did he want her blessing? Why was it so important to him? And why the hell did he keep calling her 'angel'? For the first time in her young life, Princess Serenity, crown heir to all of Athynia, was stuck in a fix in which she couldn't think of an escape.
Debating between calling the guards and logically explaining the error with the man's 'blessing', Serenity decided to throw caution to the wind and give the man what he wanted. Perhaps then, he would go off on his crazed way and she could put this uneasy encounter far behind her.
She warily approached his small, huddled body until she was less then five feet from him, making sure to breath through her mouth. Now the only question was how would she bless him? She could perform a customary honoring where he kissed her hand and in turn she kissed his cheeks and a few fancy, empty words were said. She eyed him on the ground scrutinizingly; the idea didn't settle well with her stomach at all.
Course, there was always the option of a knighting. She had seen her father knight many men for their bravery and honor; maybe she could use that same speech and action to 'bless' this man. All that she needed now was a make- shift sword but where would she find....ah ha!
Serenity yanked a blooming rose from a near by rose bush as she moved a bit closer to the bowed man who waited faithfully for her next move. She slowly reached out and touched the petals of the rose to each of his shoulders, moving from one to the other in the traditional knighting manner.
"I, Serenity, here by bestow my blessing upon the man that would humble himself in my presence and acknowledge him in any wish he may desire." A small, wistful smile graced her lips. It almost felt as if she was a child again, playing pretend with some of the servants. She missed those simple times more than she ever thought possible. She abruptly shook the sense of nostalgia that triggered in her memory and continued.
"Here, I give you this rose as a token of kindness; that you may look upon it and remember my blessing." Serenity spoke softly, her attention diverted between her own fantasy world and completing the current task.
Raising his head slightly, he lifted his hand to take the proffered rose from her hand and cradled it in his own, not caring that the thorns pricked his highly sensitive skin. Tears gathered in his awkward eyes as he fingered the fine petals of the red rose.
'A gift. ' He thought as he wiped away a stray tear. 'The first real gift anyone has ever given me.' Gently, he put the rose within his torn and matted black cloak for safe keeping, in a special place near his heart.
Brimming with happiness and gratitude, he couldn't contain the wondrous feelings he was experiencing. So without thinking, he lunged himself at his angel and hugged her around the waist, clinging tightly to her.
Serenity made a squeal of protest as she watched him suddenly fling himself forward and grab her. Caught off guard and a bit jittery, she shakily tried to pry the man's thin arms off of her. Then, she stopped in confusion when she felt something damp lightly soak the front of her dress, swearing she could hear the sound of soft sobbing.
"Thank you....so very much.....my angel." The man's muffled voice barely reached her ears. Looking down, Serenity realized he was crying and patted his arm reassuringly.
"There, there, it's ok. You have my blessing now and everything will be all better. But you have to let go now. I really hate to be so rude but it's time for me to leave." Once again, she began to unhook his arms from her waist when his grip tightened.
"No.....just a little longer." He said firmly yet raptly, burrowing his head into the soft material of her dress and inhaling her sweet scent. It was the first time he could recall that he had been held by someone and by a woman no less! Gradually, he felt a funny feeling begin to coil in his body as he held her, an unfamiliar pressure upon the lower half of his stomach. It was a foreign emotion that he had never known before but he relished it.
In a hysteric frenzy, Serenity attempted to pull her body and her dress out of the man's grasp but to no avail. Refusing to budge, he grabbed fistfuls of her white dress in his hands and rubbed her lower back tentatively. With no other option left, Serenity screamed loudly in terror.
"GUARDS!!"
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The guards' rough hands painfully bit into both his upper arms as they easily hauled his weak body from the marble floor, dragging him through the large double oak doors of the throne room. For a brief moment, he'd struggled wildly against the two tall, bulky guards but his malnourished body quickly weakened to the strong assailants.
The guards bowed low in honor of their king as they threw the mongrel in the middle of the room. He stood stock still from shock as he, a mere beggar, came before the powerful ruler of Athynia. One of the guards knocked him on his knees using the wooden end of his spear.
"You will show your respect to his highness Odyrius, King of Athynia." he yelled in outrage.
The meager man shrunk into a ball of fear and tattered clothes from the soldier's booming voice.
"What is the meaning of this?" Odyrius demanded, his voice laced with irritation, his form large and threatening even while he sat on the throne in the head of the room.
"Your Highness, our most sincerest apologies for the interruption but this is a most urgent matter. We found this intruder lurking about in the castle gardens. We believe him to be some kind of spy or abductor." One of the men exclaimed arrogantly, concealing the underlying fear well.
"A spy in my kingdom? Why was I not informed earlier? Do you slack at your post? I will not stand for such ill-trained, dullard guards in my castle!" He shrilly roared as he watched all three men began to shake with fear.
"Sire, w-we found him just this morning." One of the men stuttered uncertainly, apprehensive of what the king would say if they told him they found the man with the princess. What his highness didn't know wouldn't hurt them, right?
"And do you know how long he has been there? Do you know how long he could have stayed? Know your place soldier and do not speak to me as if I am ignorant. One more outburst and I will have you imprisoned. Know this, you both shall be severely punished for not eradicating this problem sooner." Odyrius austerely reproved the guards.
"Tell me, who are you? What were you doing in the castle garden?" His voice was stern; his hard gaze unrelenting as he watched the squeamish man tremble like a scared rabbit.
"Forgive me, I did not mean to cause any harm. I saw an angel singing in the garden and I had hoped she would grant me her blessing. That...that was all." He bowed his head in a subservient manner, hoping against all odds that his angel would help him now. The guards quietly snickered behind him.
Odyrius deliberated the man's explanation and came to a logical conclusion. The man was mad, either that or he was a very cunning spy. "Tell me, who exactly are you?" He gruffly questioned, getting agitated at the way the man avoided his question.
"Highness.....I was never given a real name. My mother died when I was born and I was not named... But the men in the village do call me 'bastard'. Is that a name?" He asked hopeful, his large, green eyes twinkling at the prospect that he had a name. One guard actually coughed to drown out his laughter while the other one laughed to himself and shook his head.
King Odyrius turned his head in disgust. The man reeked of the pungent smell of filth and he looked like a beggar all the way down to his yellowed- rotten teeth. Even so, the man had breached the castle gates and Odyrius couldn't risk the fact that he might be a spy. Which brought another question to mind.
"How did you get past the guards and the castle gate?"
"I....I used the servant's entrance." He maintained a polite tone, his voice only wavering a tiny bit in intimidation.
"I see. And how, per say, did you come to learn of the servant's entrance?" Odyrius' tone didn't hold as much anger as it did interest.
"Well.....the cook...throws out food to the dogs sometimes. The dogs and I are friends and search for food together. One time, I followed the cook back through the servant's door and into the kitchen. But I swear, I only steal a little food then I leave. I didn't hurt nobody." He pursed his lips together and twiddled his thumbs, closely examining his hands to avoid the King's hard eyes. King Odyrius nodded and glared malevolently at the small man.
Nobody seemed to notice as the door creaked open and a lone, petite figure slid into the room.
"Fine. Then for breaching the gates of the castle and being a suspected spy and a thief, I, King Odyrius, hereby sentence you to death." He stretched out his hand as a sign of ultimate authority, commanding the obedience of all in the room. It was a sign that his highness' final judgement had been passed.
"Father, wait!" A strong, feminine voice from far back of the room protested. Serenity, princess of Athynia, emerged from the shadows and approached her father silently as the man in question watched on in disbelief.
Was his disillusioned mind playing tricks on him? Surely, his conscious wouldn't be as cruel as to flaunt the ghostly image of the angel, the very reason for the condemnation he now faced, in front of his eyes.
His breath was suspended in air as everything else around him stopped and faded away, everything but the angel. She was so close to him that he could actually see her fully without the harsh rays of the sun obscuring his sight. Her hair was waist-length long and flowing, appearing to have been spun from the purest moonlight as it shined white. Her eyes were big and bright with the sky itself as the color within their depths. Even with her short stature, she stood tall and regal with unwavering, straight posture that demanded the respect of all who were present. In other words, she was every bit the refined noble she had been bred to be.
Again as he watched her in fascination, he struggled with that feeling that griped his lower torso and made him ache for something he didn't understand but that was of little consequence now. He hoped God heard the prayers of the poor because he was praying as hard as he could that his angel could save him.
-------
"Papa, look at this man. He is just a crazy, old fool who wouldn't know a king lest he see one, much less be a spy. Do you really think he is capable of corrupting our kingdom? Please, release him. He's simply a petty beggar who steals food. We cannot make him suffer more than what punishment he has brought upon himself." Serenity spoke passionately and desperately, her eyes big, blue puddles of empathy. She laid her hands on her father's forearm and squeezed gently, waiting anxiously for his words.
He took in the man's appearance then switched his cerulean gaze over to his daughter. She was so wise even at the tender, influential age of fourteen but still had much to learn about politics and authority. Odyrius covered her two small hands with his own large one and smiled lovingly.
"You're just like your mother, always the kind-hearted one. I suppose I will lessen his punishment and be more lenient." He patiently sighed, sounding defeated, pleased when she bought his little charade.
"You promise?" She queried, examining his expression and measuring his words, making sure he was sincere.
"I promise. Now, I think Luna may be upset if a certain princess failed to make her government classes. So why don't you run along, ok?" He gave her a big, convincing smile, tapping Serenity under her chin with his finger and waving her off. She nodded in compliance and skittered her way out the throne room doors.
The guards looked at him questionably and waited for his next command. In a harsh tone, Odyrius said,
"Take him to the outskirts of Athynia and lead him into the Forest of Darkness ."
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The guard tugged hard on the shackles that were attached to the man's wrist and ankles as the poor beggar fell to the ground yet again, yelping in pain.
"Come on, pick up the pace. Can't you move any faster than that?" The guard chastised heatedly, stopping his horse and waiting on the man-for what must have been the hundredth time-to catch his breath and start moving again.
The man breathed in deep, vainly trying to ease the sharp pain that racked his underdeveloped muscles and body. If he could think straight then he would have tried to escape or even given the two guards a hell of a time dragging him to the forest. But as it was, he was too exhausted to even carry his own body, much less the chains that were attached to him.
"Well, look what we have here." The other guard let out a low whistle as he took in the dark, aging forest that was in front of them. "Do you believe that they say that no one has ever made it out alive?" He voiced his thoughts aloud to the other guard, which did nothing but heighten the beggar's fear about going in.
"Yep, and I'd hate to be the next victim to whatever lies in there waiting." With the beggar's chains in hand, the other man looked at the rarely taken path that winded around the large trees and lead straight into the dense forest.
"Alright, bastard..." the guard said mockingly, "it's time for you to take a small journey." The guard dismounted his horse and unlocked the man's shackles, pushing him toward to ominous forest.
The man staggered and yelled with determination, turning to make a hasty escape. "NO!"
The guard took hold of him by his upper arm and threw him to the ground with obvious hatred burning in his eyes. The man fell backwards to the ground and hit his head on a jagged rock, his world going black and his body stilled as a small pool of blood began to form on the ground.
"Hmph..." the guard grunted. "Serves him right."
The distinct sound of galloping hooves was heard from within the forest as the sun hung low in the sky. Both guards horses began to get jumpy, stomping, throwing themselves backwards and neighing at some unknown presence in the trees, sufficiently spooking both men.
"Come on. Let's leave him and get out of here." The other guard was already trotting away as the previous one mounted his horse none too easily and rode after him. "...My Lord!.....My Lord!! Come back!!" A male voice called in the forest.
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Sweaty and undoubtedly tired from the long day's ride, Endymion fastened the pace of his horse until he reached the very edge of the forest and could see the sun dipping into the horizon. Some unrecognizable gut instinct had driven him here, something he couldn't quite place. But the sensation had to be strong, it was a rare occasion when he went near the edges of the forest, much less out of the forest completely. He pulled the reigns of his horse to circle around the outer edge of the trees, a crumpled figure on the ground catching his eye.
So his instincts had been right. He led the horse where a pool of red was gathering and getting larger by the second. With wide eyes and a shocking expression on his face, Endymion came to a stop in front of the beggar man and quickly got off his horse, coming close to the man and inspecting his wounds.
"Malachite, over here." He called to his colleague.
"My Lord, what....uh, who is he?" Malachite questioned in surprise. He road up next to where Endymion kneeled next to a motionless man laying skewed across the ground, his head bleeding profusely.
"I honestly don't know but we can't just leave him here like this. We'll take him back to the palace with us." Taking off his riding shirt, Endymion ripped it into swathes for bandages and wrapped the man's bloody head with expertise. Mindful of the man's injured head, Endymion cautiously picked up the man's limp body and prestigiously placed him on the back of his horse, mounting the horse too and sitting behind the man as a support. Endymion briefly watched the sunset as its golden rays lit the lush lands and hills of the land into a beautiful array of sunshine.
"Let's go, Malachite. Back to Aramais."
Big thanks goes out to my betas, dbz, nika, AB, and editor, SA, for working so hard and diligently to help me get this story out. Love you babes!! Just remember dear readers, reviews keep an author happy and writing!! Hope you guys enjoy this new fic!