A/N: This chapter is currently being revised/edited. There are several mistakes here and there, so until this note is gone, please remember, some paragraphs are being changed. (26 May 2008)
Chapter I: The Dance of the Prey
A dark wolf hunts, ravenous and lingering on the air above. Hackles rising, he dances on wind, sweeping a blade lightly in an arch, avoiding his prey by inches. Pacing through steps never quite touching her delicate form. Eyes on her throat, the fine embers of gold within his grasp. The bird tensing as the wolf twists into the crook of her back, winding himself sinuously around her waist. Her silken feathers seized between his claws, the blade leaning dangerously towards her neck...
Breathing heavily, Lucian halted in mid-step, sweat trickling down his back. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He was...too close, his arm around her waist, his hand on her... He swallowed, unable to look down, unable to let go, breathing in the scent. The smell of flame and ash, the green irises so close he could almost see his reflection. Some part of his brain still functioning, screaming at him for the love of sanity to let go. He had to let go. Swallowing, he let his sword-hand fall, the blade hovering above stone. Somehow the steps had changed. He should have twisted left and taken her hand. He had seen it in his mind, but somehow he had gone right. He had...changed the steps. No longer clutching the silken gown, but the silk of her ladyship's…
…thigh.
The blood drained from his face.
What in Viktor's name are you doing, he thought in horror, quickly releasing the lady and stepping back, his head bowed. Desperately trying to control his heartbeat. Desperately trying to put space between them. A stone pillar prevented him from backing any further. He could not see her, but he could feel the shadows of flame darkening his skin. He could burn for having ventured so close. How could this have happened? One moment he was demonstrating a child's sword-dance and the next…
...the next...
…he'd shown her the blade-dance. Not the sword-tryst. Not the steps of thirst, but the genuine blade-dance. Unwittingly, he raised his head again, gaze travelling swift between the black cords. She stood between the columns, her back to him, adjusting her dress, smoothing the pleats he had taken up with the twist step. The room was feeling hot all of sudden… She must think him a rogue…an animal. Fool of a lycan, a hand maybe…or even a wrist! But her thigh? Throw yourself on the fire and be done with it. Wring your own neck! Serve yourself for supper, you half-wit son of dogs! Of all the dances to choose…
Shifting his feet, Lucian tried to relax against the marble, fiddling with his sword-hilt…unable to keep still as the torn water-lily watched him. She was scrutinizing him with the most placid expression on her face, the rest of her body rigid as if set in stone.
What he would give to be running along the ramparts now…
…but she did ask for this, he decided with a frown, poking his finger fruitlessly along the frayed leather stitching of the sword-handle. She asked for it. Just a few days after their first conversation, not six moons past, the Lady had broached him with her ill-met question! "Tell me Lucian…do lycans…dance?" Beyond the obvious insult, of course he knew what she really wanted.
Blade-dancing.
It was forbidden, but as long as lycans did it in secret, the Elders turned a blind eye. His initial thought had been 'over his dead body', but like every other lycan under the sun, his worded answer had been...
"No, milady."
"Absolutely not, milady."
"Why would lycans dance, milady?"
"I protect and serve milady. I do not dance."
And on one particularly annoying occasion...
"Oh for the love of blood, milady, would you please stop shoving me into the dancing circle?!"
It was only after three solid weeks of her 'subtle' inquiry (morning after morning of annoying harassment) that he'd finally swallowed his misgivings and showed her a pared-down version of blade-dancing. Perhaps seeking to repay some of the kindness she had once shown him. Perhaps seeking to achieve some semblance of peace in his mornings.
Perhaps seeking to shut her up.
The frustrated colour began to seep slowly back into his cheeks. At least the runt had sense enough to dismiss both minstrels from their morning duties. And yet, there was no need! He'd only meant to teach the pup-version of blade-dancing. Severely simplified, platonic sword-trysts suitable for a boy dancing with his sister. Today's lesson on 'circling the prey' had been no different. Four slices along the skin, twist into your own back, step along the side and bow.
Any twelve-year-old fool without legs could master it!
Sheathing the sword (the leather be damned), he forced himself to stand, ready to inform his bird-like charge that this dance was coming to an end. No more lessons. No more demonstrations. None. He opened his mouth...and closed it, his annoyance stripped away by her expression.
Cold detachment…
The green eyes which held no warmth, the vampire standing still as stone. He did not need his sisters to tell him he had just ruined the minor friendship he had developed with this runt over the past few moons. Worse, he deserved her disdain. Three more seconds into that dance, and her gown would have been sliced in two. Maybe three as he was rather quick with the sword. Ashamed of himself, Lucian lowered himself into a penitent bow, one knee raised, the other drawing further from the obviously revolted woman…
"Forgive me, milady…I stumbled in the step. I should not have…"
Abruptly, the Lady coughed, forcing him to silence. He heard the soft sound of her bare feet approaching him and facing the ground, as usual of late, he found himself wondering how she could glide when her leg remained so injured. Only the flickering of torches and the echo of sounds far off throughout the castle, when suddenly from above, the bird uttered a pensive sound.
"Hmmph," she said.
Lucian swallowed.
Hmmph? All she had to say was 'hmmph'? The hair on his neck suddenly felt a touch wary. Though a minor banter had developed between them in the past few moons, she remained the daughter of Viktor.
"So you are an expert in dance then…" she murmured softly, turning away, only the hem of her gown visible, the embroidered green lining. Although it was good that her Ladyship had enough mercy to classify his actions as "tugging silk" rather than "stealing chastity," he still had a bad feeling about where this might go. He had not been given leave to stand, but he dared to look up, suffering the faintest misgiving at the word expert.
As if she could see his daring, the small bird swivelled on her good heel and grinned slyly, her eyes now holding the subtle warmth of leaves drifting through calm, summer winds. She gestured for him to rise and almost sighing in relief, Lucian stood and leaned back against the column, his hand far from his sword-hilt. The Lady was as she had been before the lesson had started, so perhaps she would see fit to put this behind them. Except her expression was rapidly changing from subtle warmth to brazen mischief...
Completely relaxed, she beckoned him forward. His heart sinking, he took a step forward. She again beckoned him forward. He took another step forward, realizing she was drawing him back towards the dance-circle and away from the marble column. He took a step back, shaking his head...
"Milady, I really must return to my..."
"Nonsense."
Smirking, she walked around behind him and pushed him forward, forcing him to walk until he stood in the centre. She then faced him and took a single step forward, moving between the cords of black death and mimicking the start of the blade dance...
"How strange that for all your graceful footwork, Dull-wit," she said lightly. "...you falter at the slightest step."
"Milady, what you saw was merely a..."
"...lycan blade-dance." she smirked. "Though I believe you have played a child's trick upon me these past few moons. You are not an expert. You are not even very good," she frowned, stalking slowly around his person and mocking him with his own words. "Perhaps you should give it up?" Without waiting for his answer, the Lady Sonja nodded and turned, both hands clasped behind her back, her right foot forward. "Again, if you please…the true dance."
"Your pardon?" He raised his head sharply, unable to mask his scowling disapproval.
"I said 'again'…" she muttered in tranquil awareness, now easily holding his gaze through the darkness. "I trust you are not going deaf, Dull-wit, though it would not matter seeing that this is a dance of silence." The way she said the last word, it was more of a command than a description. "From the beginning…" she insisted again, her tone a bit colder.
He frowned, still bowing his head and forcing the grit from his teeth. "Milady, I'm afraid I must protes-…"
The words caught in his throat.
Even if he wanted to, he could not speak. It was like a slow-waking dream, her speed uncanny, the sight of her hand reaching out...the icy palm of winter pressing onto his jaw, softer than silk, yet cutting his voice off. She might be a weakling, but she still had a portion of Viktor's strength. The lady had raised his chin forcefully, her gaze strong, the light green swallowed by the stormy colours of the deep sea…
"I give you my word, good sir…" she tilted her head slightly. "...if this request shames you, I will press you no more…" If possible, her tone had become even more negligent. Icy. One of ridicule and the voice of an arrogant woman who cared little for whether he had the guts to answer her request. In other words…
…a challenge.
His jaw tightened.
Inwardly, the lycan growled at the hiss behind her words, but instead…remembering his place and duty, he closed both eyes and bowed his head in submission.
"Very well, milady…" Lucian said softly, his voice both rich and rolling. His tone was immaculate, the perfect form expressing the solemn and steadfast nature of his angelic obedience, the tranquil eyes docile before her powerful gaze. She nodded in approval and removed her palm, turning her back on him as the rest of her slim figure flowed smoothly to her first and only position in this dance.
Already scowling at the retreating back, Lucian unsheathed his sword, his eyes turning wolfish as the words 'Like hell, milady' drifted pleasantly through his mind. Orders or not, he was skipping the final part and if the pubescent runt didn't like it, she could find someone else to show her blade dancing.
Preferably someone with the same blood for starters…
Returning to his starting point and observing that his prey was in position, Lucian again lowered himself into a languid bow, reluctantly raising his sword and lining both feet up with the edge of his mistress' arm. A wonder that this madness even started in the first place. For a second time, his wrist began to turn, curving the blade slowly along her skin and halting the icy breath as it passed from her lips. Taking a single step forward, he twisted the hilt suddenly… What was the point in asking a lycan's name if you weren't even going to use it? Had he known what he was getting into, he might have begged her to have him whipped rather than sustain her friendship. …moving the blade smoothly across her untouched shoulders and the air above. The small hairs rising as he danced on… As if he would ever...ever show her an actual "blade-dance! Country-swords, youngling-steps…perhaps even a knife-tryst, but blade-dancing?
By his teeth, certainly not!
Strangely enough, she seemed to think them friends...which he supposed they were, yet how easy was it for the upperclass to befriend the lower classes? She could do as she pleased, but for him, it was a nightmare. Still confined to his duties, he was forced to keep serving her as he would a respected liege…knowing his place as her guardian. Granting her wishes. Keeping his tone subdued, and at times, smiling politely as she goaded him with a knife…
The lady was sarcastic. Shameless. Annoying!
He bit his lip, again avoiding her head by inches. Blade-dancing was not an easy feat, and though she might mock him as an expert, the truth was, he was actually quite good. First among the lycan warriors, he was very skilled with a blade. A little too skilled, some would say. The lycan women were practically fighting over his bed, and this vampiric runt thought she could shame him. Even as he danced, with this sudden thought of pride at his own unsurpassed skill, Lucian again frowned at his earlier misstep. It was a wonder how he'd gotten carried away like that…
Even if she were lycan, she'd be hardly worth his attention. Yet somehow, perhaps out of habit, after 'circling the prey,' his skilled feet had turned onto the true blade dance. A path that usually led somewhere with hay…warmth…venison…and the promise of better things to come, which, judging by her Ladyship's misshapen form, was certainly not the case here, he determined with some disdain.
Having completed the mid-step (and having no plans whatsoever to run a sword anywhere near the Lady's lower half), Lucian swayed into his own back without thought, stepped easily to the side and bowed, rising swiftly to face her once more. Only to share a weary gaze with…
Pillars…
Hearing a dissatisfied sigh, he realized the Lady Sonja had long-since dropped gracefully to the marble floor, and was currently drawing her misshapen leg closer as she eyed the razor-sharp sword in his hand.
"And what of the woman?" Her brazen eyebrows frowned in question.
"I'm sorry, milady?" he murmured, still uncertain how any portion of this dance could be unclear after she'd dragged him from his duties and harassed him into demonstrating the more shameful features of lycanthrope culture. For the love of blood, he'd nearly sliced her dress in two…did she need a guide?
"She makes no movement?"
He paused, smoothly returning his sword to its sheath…
"Unless she wants to have her head lopped off…no…"
Suddenly grimacing, the Lady Sonja's mouth began to open…
…and realizing he would have to elaborate, without thinking, the annoyed lycan smoothly interjected, gesturing as he spoke and knowing full-well the kind of tune Lady Sonja liked to harp on about...
"I agree, milady…she is indeed at the mercy of her brethren, but…" Lucian paused, thinking up a suitable lie for the moment. Regardless of what the Lady got up to in her spare time, he doubted she was much versed in the ways of the world. Placing his hands behind his back, he nodded sagely and continued… "…as the flower, she symbolizes the core of our people. She is the creator of life and the mother of all that is fair and pure. In truth, it is her presence that leads the dance and it is the warrior that bows before her grace…"
"…countenance and memory." She waved her hand… "Yes, yes…but do not the women of your culture hold weaponry during the daylight hours? At least a dagger…"
"For protection…and yet in this dance, there is no need, for it is the honourable duty of the warrior to act as the very weapon she holds in her grasp, milady. At the very least, the lady may hold a sheathe. Forgive me in saying that in our peaceful society, the lady hath no need for such worldly evils…"
"Then pray tell me, what if the lady hath no need for the warrior's worldly advances? Is she to stand frozen as honourable duty satisfies his lust at the expense of her gown?"
Lucian grimaced, not quite liking the way this flowery speech of lies was going. "Of what lust do you speak of, milady? As far as this dance is concerned, gowns are merely an outward symbol of the inner purity at hand. The warrior, in his honour, must meditate upon said purity and, as such, the gown becomes a focal point for his…that is to say…her gown is the necessary…good…which must be…"
The Lady Sonja dropped onto her back suddenly and laughed, gesturing to the ceiling as her next words came out in mocking lament. "By the winds, Lucian…your tongue has brought you to the point." She raised the back of her hand to her forehead and rolled her eyes dramatically. "Perhaps more flowers and fair symbolism for the sweet Lady Sonja?" Scoffing, the torn water-lily sat up again and smirked, pointing a candid finger at the now scowling lycan. "Even by your own words, it is the sword and sheath that is most important to the meaning of this dance rather than the Lady's purity." Unable to contain her delight at witnessing a true blade-dance, the Lady Sonja suddenly clapped her hands together, a wicked gleam finding its way into her enthralled vision. "Now tell me, Lucian, does the Lady truly remain still or are her movements too scandalous to be described? Are her clothes sliced into…no, no…that would be too much waste. Perhaps she divests herself through a series of…"
"Is this entirely appropriate?" he growled, eliciting a spluttering laugh from the fair Lady Sonja. At least she had called him by name finally, but scowling as if his face was under siege, he still crossed his arms doggedly. He was forgetting his personal promise to address this runt befitting her rank, but...oh blood, this girl would be the death of him, carrying on as she did.
"Do I spy blood in your face, Lucian?" she whispered in mocking awe from her perch on the floor. "Oh…yes, yes I believe I do. How intriguing…for one who dances past a lady's thigh with his sword, I would think you'd have swallowed your shame years ago…"
And now swallowing his first retort, Lucian managed to force a winning, if not tight, grin of teeth upon his face before dryly murmuring, "Alas, I am forced to concede." Bantering easily, the next words fell from his tongue without thought. "I hold no doubts whatsoever about the vast experience her ladyship's greater knowledge must have gained in such matters…"
Mistake.
Immediately, he sensed the change. A tightness in her lips, the lady rose to her feet in a split second, her eyes shot to the terrifying tones of vampiric blue. Her expression was one of absolute calm, but her next words were spoken so quietly, filled with such intensity as to ring sharper than a hiss.
"Whatever you may have heard, lycan," She spat the last word, making it seem an insult. "...I am no lady of little virtue. You may address the rest of my flaws as you will, but do not bandy lies as if they were true."
Lucian stepped back, bowing his head, though in mind, he knew himself stunned into absolute stillness.
"Milady, I only meant to..."
"It grows late," she interjected sharply, looking towards the door. Striking in her anger, the Lady tilted her head arrogantly back at him. "I will see you here on the morrow, Sir Dull-wit. Another blade-dance." As suddenly, her eyes reverted to pale green. Turning for the hallway, she headed for the door.
Lucian blinked. He could barely equate this wounded woman of gravity standing before him with the torn water-lily or even the brazen bird of feisty upkeep. He had merely meant another jest, but she had taken him seriously. Although the bird had angered him with her misinterpretation, there was still a strange sense of…sorrow in his person. His words had cost the Lady her good mood…and for that, he was…sorry. Even as she neared the door, he stalked to her side, able to move swiftly with the speed of strong limbs. Speed that had never and would never be hers.
"Milady, you must forgive me," he entreated, feeling oblivious to her grave thoughts. "I meant this only in jest, but I fear, the barbs may be too sharp for our subtle mornings. Whether by sword or words, I pray you…" As they neared the door, his voice lay hardly above a sigh. "…let us not continue in this manner."
Inwardly, he silently dared to hope she might see the danger of this exchange. As a creature of cold logic, he had always made a point of considering all possible outcomes. And where else could this banter go? Do not force me from my duty, milady… Even in our speech, there lies only conflict! Lycans and vampires are not meant to…
…to…
To speak, let alone…
Even in his mind, he couldn't finish the thought. But as if staring upon his soul as he once looked upon hers, a strange look of shrewdness suddenly passed across the Lady Sonja's face as she watched him. Her eyes darkening for a moment as the same thought crossed her mind…
For where could this banter go?
She paused long enough to squint at him, but as if determined to be tranquil through the rest of their exchanges, without answering, the Lady moved on through the doorway. Left behind for a moment, Lucian closed his eyes, pressed an extremely aggravated hand to his forehead…and then in turn, stalked down the same hallway, assuming his place in front of her. It was his duty to guard the Lady Sonja at a safe distance at least until she reached her chambers…but as tradition, he would be forced to walk three feet before or behind her. Examining all paths before she stepped through them. Inspecting the hidden shadows and safe-guarding the Lady from any possible harm. Words were not spoken during this time, so in essence…their conversation was over.
And for the best, thought Lucian dourly as he sniffed the air. Continually wary of his surroundings, regardless of how safe the castle itself might seem.
o...o...o...o
Silent, the Lady Sonja continued to walk slowly behind the lycan, now putting a single arm out and following the cool marble walls with one finger as she stalked the many corridors leading to her quarters. Closing her eyes, she passed through the dark hallways, trying to make sense of the few true steps she'd seen this morning. Her thoughts flowing easily along the silent dance of swords … Although he had demonstrated "blade-dancing" for several moons now, nothing he had shown her before came even vaguely close to this morning's…energy. And the dance itself…
The style emulated that of vampire's, but at the same time, utterly changed its execution. Like a hunter, her guardian had made no pretense at measurement, but instead, paced his timing to her breath, circling her still form as if hunting prey.
And how strange when he touched her! The pressure of his hand on her neck. A lycan's hand. The distinctive sensuality between the two parties. Carnal hunger in his eyes…and that momentary grasp of her thigh. The fleeting glance…
And within seconds, it was as if they had…
They had…
For the second time that day, the Lady Sonja's thoughts abruptly shied away from sacrilege. A mere three feet away from her chambers and she balked, watching as Lucian entered, scoping the room out. He was looking away from her, but she frowned coldly at his back, her eyes suddenly challenging and distant. She was the daughter of an Elder. Viktor. First among the vampires.
Such thoughts were abomination.
o...o...o...o
Seeing the harsh change in her expression, Lucian almost grinned. Finally, he thought with solemn approval. The runt is not as foolhardy as I first thought…Keeping his face as expressionless as a mask, the lycan continued searching for any hint of danger. Though in truth, there was not much to search. Where most vampiric women filled their bowers with jewelry, lavish gowns and the soft furnishings of the wealthy, the Lady Sonja's chamber could easily have passed for that of a nun.
Waiting for his dismissal, Lucian bowed silently as the Lady entered the searched chamber. Hardly noticing his presence, she waved a careless palm and whispered, "You may go."
"By your leave," he murmured, turning towards the doors and bowing a second time before closing the massive oak planks smoothly behind him. Standing awkwardly against the wood for a moment, Lucian paused…listening for the sound of intruders. A ten-second pause…and then he left.
Brazen, indeed…
By the next night, blade-dancing would be a thing of the past.
