Enjoy! :D
Shirosaki watched the knight go. He looked big, even without the decorated breastplate, his back broad and strong as he walked away. The tenseness of his shoulders was still visible though, and nothing could hide the dislike that had swirled in blue eyes. The shaman let out a silent sigh and lowered himself to sit cross-legged upon the ground in the center of his cage. His human as well as his animal instinct rebelled against being locked away, against not being free and able to roam the forest, his bare feet on earth rather than cold cement and cobble. Restless energy from his own growing tension made sitting still hard, waiting was even more difficult. He closed his strangely colored eyes, reaching deep within himself, but he already knew what he'd find.
The spirits of his people were quiet.
They were still there, still alive within him, but they were distant. He could feel their breath, but not their strength. It seemed the magic sealed cell negated even his power, both what he held from his birth right and the power gifted to him by hundreds.
Still, he attempted to reach for his power. If nothing else, he only needed to shift. His much smaller fox body would be able to squeeze through the bars of the cell. But his fox form was just out of grasp as well. He could feel soft fur, feel his senses try to heighten, feel as his bone and muscle reached toward the change and tried to contract, but just as the hand in his mind's eye began to close around that form, the fox slipped through his fingers. He'd never felt so...powerless. The entire situation left him weary and drained and the lack of magic swimming in his veins left him oddly cold in a way he'd never known.
Brows furrowing, he pulled his knees up and rested his arms across them, lowering his chin to settle across his arms. He stared between the bars of his cage with unseeing, inverted eyes and a disheartened frown.
Up above, Grimmjow stormed back into the throne room in search of his king. One of the doormen scrambled in his wake, eyes wide and features pulled into a worried expression as he rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. He worried for all the wrong reasons, Grimmjow had always been a loyal knight, he'd not draw his weapon against Lord Aizen. And even should he, the doorman, or any of Aizen's other castle guardsmen would never be able to stop him. His own sword would taste blood before they'd even managed to scream a warning. But that was beside the point.
The knight paused before the mighty throne and the figure seated upon it. At the king's side, Ulquiorra watched impassively, though Grimmjow knew better than to think he wasn't fully alert and ready to act. He gave a short, barely there bow before straightening back to his rather intimidating hight, his angular features set and his blue eyes ablaze.
"Lord Aizen, I have trouble believing you don't know what you intend to do with the captive." There was a challenge in his words, an air of stubborn, strong-willed disapproval. "You always have everything planned out."
Aizen smirked, barely a quirking of his lips, as he looked upon his most highly known and famed knight. Of course, Grimmjow knew him as well as anyone, probably better than most. His two favored knights, the strongest of his warriors, hardly left his side. They knew everything about him. Or mostly so, at any rate. "You are correct, Grimmjow. I do have a few plans in the works."
"I would know them." It was hardly the request of a man lower in ranking to the king. It was a demand, spoken in a hardly affable growl with a barely checked temper.
"Very well." Aizen nodded slightly, still comfortably seated upon his throne. He took a sip of his drink, letting his pause stretch out, mostly because he knew it would rile the big knight's feathers. "Now that you've brought me the shaman alive, I'm torn between two options. I could simply have him killed. Despite all his considerable strength, he's merely a mortal man while in that cell, and disposing of him would undo a mistake made long ago. Or..." Aizen paused again, taking another sip while his cold, intelligent eyes glittered toward Grimmjow over the rim of his cup. "Or, we could convince him to join us, to allow himself to be...groomed and cultured, and we would gain ourselves a potentially very valuable ally. The first is more likely, but the second is preferable for all involved."
Grimmjow snarled, his lip curling into a sneer as his mind worked. His thoughts showed in his intense, expressive gaze. He really knew very little of Shirosaki, only the bits that the shaman had shared with him, thinking Grimmjow would be dead by now, but he knew enough to realize the pale young man would never agree. Even in those short hours they were confined to the cave, and the even fewer minutes they spoke, Grimmjow could feel the shaman's seething hatred for the king. And his fear had been just as obvious in those moments that the shaman had been sprawled at Aizen's feet. No, Shirosaki would never go for it. He was far too wild and feral, far too driven in his quest.
"He doesn't like nor trust you." Grimmjow said bluntly. "At least he does not have such ill notions of me just yet. Allow me to try reasoning with him before you do. Sir."
The added show of respect was clearly an after thought, but that was nothing new coming from Grimmjow. The blue haired knight had always been a rebellious and bull headed individual, even as a child and before Aizen had decided he'd make a perfect knight. But, as disrespectfully as his proposal had been worded, Sir Jaegerjaquez did make a point. "Very well, you may speak with him on the morrow, after he's had time to sit and ponder his situation for a while."
Grimmjow stood in silence for a moment more, before he swiftly turned and left the throne room. The door was hurriedly pulled open for him by a still mildly frightened guard. He didn't bother giving the man a second glance, nor a word of acknowledgement as he passed.
The rest of that evening passed in quiet solitude. With his everyday, ornamental armor out of commission and being repaired, he was unable to stand at his post by the king's side and so he took the rest of the day to himself. Despite that he listened to his king's orders and left their captive alone in the dank dungeons, Grimmjow's mind never strayed from the man.
He'd served under Aizen since he was young, younger than he already was, and he'd never particularly thought the king the best of men, nor the most noble of rulers, but he hadn't thought Aizen so... cruel and twisted. The things Shirosaki hinted at the older man having done, they were atrocious. To wipe out an entire tribe, to commit genocide, simply because he couldn't control them? It was one thing to fight in a war that killed hundreds or to kill individuals that rose up against him. That was all part of being in charge, part of being powerful and almighty. But from what the shaman had eluded to, Aizen didn't wait for that to happen. He didn't even give the hollow tribe a chance to change their minds. Nor did he give them the a chance at being passive and neutral. He simply killed them and forced a young man into a horrible position. It was little wonder the shaman despised the king.
Grimmjow had been but a boy when Aizen came into power, a child no older than four or five. He didn't remember the extermination, nor the king's rise and early reign. His earliest real memory of the king was when he'd been in his early teens. Having grown up mostly on the streets, he'd already been well built and big. He'd stood several inches shorter than he did at present, but his frame had always been broad, the structure of a teen that would grow into a strong and well muscled man.
He'd been so busy staring at the king as Aizen had rode through the street on his white stallion in his white armor and cape that he'd literally run headfirst into another man by mistake. The guy had been jumpy, nervous beyond what was normal. He'd screamed and threatened the young Grimmjow, and having a volatile and easily ignited temper, Grimmjow had risen to the challenge. As it turned out, he would soon come to learn that the man he'd beaten the hell out of that day on the street had been a would-be assassin, sent to publicly murder Aizen while he rode his steed and in front of an entire village of witnesses.
Grimmjow had inadvertently saved the king and Aizen, having been a rather young king at just under thirty, had seen the whole thing. Aizen had gained a young warrior, a knight-in-training, that day and Grimmjow had spent his last night on the streets.
To make it all the worse, to taint his already skewed perception of his king, all that Shirosaki had told him seemed entirely possible. The shaman had opened blue eyes, in a sense, forced Grimmjow to finally realize what he'd been blinding himself to the king's failings for all those years. Aizen cared very little for things that didn't serve his purposes or further his plans. It was plausible to believe he would extinguish an entire people, just as it was likely he was only using Grimmjow as a pawn in his schemes.
When night finally arrived, Grimmjow found himself just as restless as the shaman was. The blue haired man gave up on sleep, his mind too busy circling around itself and echoing bits of his conversation with the pale creature back to him. He found himself slipping from the castle's guarded walls. Of course, the night guards were surprised to see him at such an hour, but he out ranked them and they didn't question him as they pulled the massive gates open.
He spent the night on the streets, merely wondering about the sleeping village. The few people he passed ducked their heads and moved from his path, recognizing him even without his armor. But they left him be, also noticing that Lord Aizen's knight was not in a conversational mood.
By the time the dark sky began to lighten and the birds began awakening to greet the day, Grimmjow had come to the conclusion that he'd given the shaman his word. He'd sworn he would do all in his power to spare the pale man and he wasn't the kind of man to go back on his word. Shirosaki hadn't really done anything to wrong the king, certainly nothing to warrant what Aizen no doubt had in mind for him. He lived alone in the forest, leaving the village alone as far as Grimmjow could tell. The stories of hunters and men going missing had all originated from within the depths of the forest. Shirosaki had only been doing what was necessary for his survival. He'd killed people that had been trying to kill and capture him. Grimmjow would have done the same.
With the first rays of sun climbing into the sky, alighting the horizon beyond the castle in brilliant shades of red and orange, Grimmjow returned. He entered the castle and, rather than returning to his own quarters or searching out the king, he headed directly for the steep stairs of the dungeons. Once below ground level, it was impossible to tell what hour it was. There was no hint in the cold shadows that the sun was rising with the start of another day. There was only the permanent chill in the air and the smell of damp, old, fetid earth.
His gaze instantly fell on the cell the captive was kept in and the shaman himself as he neared. Like in the cave, Shirosaki sat upon the ground, motionless and silent, but his eyes were open as he stared unseeingly straight ahead. It seemed not even his bare chest rose and fell and the only hint of movement was the small, barely noticeable twitch to the tip of his tail where it lay curled around his side and across his lap, hiding his most private of areas from view and no doubt from the chill. It was almost as though he meditated, the state of which was somehow deeper than was normal. Even as Grimmjow moved to stand in his line of sight, he didn't react, didn't see the knight. White, fox-like ears didn't even swivel to track the knight's progress.
"How long has he been sitting like this?" Grimmjow didn't bother looking at the guard posted outside the dungeon cells.
The man, half asleep where he was supposed to looking after their most recent prisoner, started at the knight's rough voice. When he realized it wasn't another guard come to relieve him of his post, he hesitated, a confused frown tugging at his features. "Uh, all night, Sir." The guard gave a small, hasty bow to his superior as he spoke and shook off his tiredness.
"Silent the whole while?"
"Yes, Sir, for the most part." The guard adamantly stood in place, back straight, but he watched the knight. "He spoke, I think. A few hours ago, but he didn't move and I could not understand what he said."
Grimmjow frowned, just barely a downward tug to his lips as he watched the shaman. He didn't bother asking if the guard had demanded the pale captive repeat what he'd said, nor did he bother asking if whatever it was had indeed been repeated. He already knew the guard had, and he knew Shirosaki had remained silent because it wasn't the people around him that he spoke to. "Leave."
The guard started slightly, surprise on his features, but this time it wasn't because he was nearly asleep on his feet. He cast a weary gaze upon the knight and didn't move from his post. "Sir Jaegerjaquez, I'm not-"
Blue eyes slid away from the shaman to land upon the guard, ice in their depths. Words weren't needed to deliver his command, nor the underlying threat that spoke even louder. The guard bowed and quickly took his leave and Grimmjow redirected his attention to the silent shaman.
He stood there for a moment, saying nothing as he stared down at the smaller man. When it became obvious Shirosaki had yet to take notice of him, the knight lowered himself to sit on the cold ground before the shaman, the bars of the cell between them. Frowning, he studied pale features, the far away look strange eyes held, the pitifully masked look of loss.
"I hardly believe you're as distracted as you seem..." The big man's voice was a quiet rumble as he spoke, certain the shaman could hear him, at least to some degree despite his seemingly absent state. If the magically warded cell did as it was supposed to, then he doubted the pale man would be able to tap into his magic, which was surely what bound the souls of his tribe to him. And clearly the cell did as it was meant to, since the shaman still sat within. "They're quiet, aren't they?"
It took the shaman a moment, but slowly his strange eyes lost their far away look and focused on the knight seated in front of his cell. Shirosaki gave the barest of nods, his voice nearly a whisper, hardly there at all when he spoke. "Yes. They cannot speak ta me."
He had to wonder how long he would have even that... The souls of his murdered people were what gave him most of his strength and his power, but they also gave him something more personal; the ability to speak. They were even the reason he hadn't aged since Aizen came to power. If he was left in that cell, without access to his magic for too long... Well it was hard to tell what would go wrong.
A grimace flashed across angular features. Those burning eyes found his own, locking with chilled blue and all but forcing the knight to see all that swirled and bubbled there. What Grimmjow saw made a rock drop into the bottom of his stomach. He had no way of knowing the shaman's thoughts, but he could see the emotions those thoughts stirred to life. He could see that hint of desperation, of weariness, a touch of dread, the flame of anger and indignation, the need for freedom. So much was conveyed in those other worldly eyes. It stunned him, as it had when he'd first glimpsed the white fox in the forest. It left him speechless and captivated.
As if he knew what his mesmerizing focus was capable of, the shaman dropped the knight's gaze and released a deep breath as a silent sigh, letting his colorless hands run over the soft fur of his tail for a moment. With the lack of magic coursing through his body and his deep state of thought and inner search interrupted, the chill in the dank dungeons slowly seeped into his colorless flesh, reaching him to the bone. He had no coat of fur to hide him from it, nor even his natural defenses to ward it off and he pulled his knees up close to his body, arms wrapped around his legs and his tail resettling to curl around his feet.
Grimmjow finally shook himself from his silent state as Shirosaki rested his pointed chin upon his drawn up knees.
"I've spoken to Lord Aizen." He informed as he reached behind himself, grasping hold of the hooks that would normally affix his cape like cloak to his armor. Without his armor, however, it was now only held in place by a weighted chain that rested across his broad chest. Unhooking the chain from one side allowed it to pool against the cold cobble below the knight.
He pulled it around, despite that taking it off left him feeling bare from being used to wearing it so much, and held a corner between the bars of the cell. The shaman looked at it for a moment before he tentatively unwound one of his arms from around himself and reached for it. When pale fingers caught hold of the thick fabric, Grimmjow retracted his hand and watched the shaman pull it to wrap snugly around his bare body as the knight spoke again. He tried to make the offer sound as tempting as possible, even though he knew it was futile, the shaman would never agree. "He wishes for you to join him. You'll have a place within the castle to stay, clothing of course for when you're...like this, and you'll be able to keep your magic. No more cage, and eventually, I'm sure you'll be able to return to the forest and finish what you need to."
Shirosaki sat quietly while he listened to the knight, but he too already knew what his answer would be. What the knight proposed didn't sound all that bad, really, but with Aizen involved, Shirosaki wasn't so naive to think it'd be so simple. Nor would he betray his people like that. Aizen was a murderer, a thief, a manipulator and a poor ruler. The man may have had a lot of people blind to the atrocities he committed, but they were still there.
"No." The shaman said in a whisper of a voice as he once more rested his chin upon his knees, "He would only seek ta use me an' my power. Servitude is still enslavement, despite how well he masks it."
Grimmjow let out a deep breath, his features hardening, "I feared you would say as much." but his blue eyes still showed the same: the want to work things out, his genuine wish to find a way to keep his word. "To refuse his offer is to ask for death."
"Yes." Shirosaki nodded slightly, his eyes finally raising to find the knight's gaze once more. "I do not fear death, only regret my failure."
They were silent for several long minutes, but the knight stayed where he'd lowered himself before the prison cell, likely the only cage in all the land that could hold the fox shifter. Grimmjow knew nothing of the markings engraved in the bars, the floor, the walls, even the ceiling, but he recognized a few words, even written in an old, nearly dead language. The cage had been designed with one purpose in mind. Aizen had prepared for the fox's eventual capture.
The guard he'd sent away had yet to return, a wise choice on the lower ranking man's part. Grimmjow doubted the man had gone far, likely just at the top of the steep staircase that led below ground, but it was far enough to the give the knight the privacy he'd sought in the attempts to get the shaman to speak with him. And now, sitting without armor or cape, he could have been any other man, he could have been something other than a knight. But that was the point, at least part of it. How was he to get the shaman's trust if the pale creature thought him siding with Aizen? He had no desire to deceive the shaman, but he did wish for the man to keep his life.
"What's it like?" Grimmjow asked into the silence around them. He didn't really look at the shaman, didn't really look at anything, but they were the only one's in the dungeon at the moment, at least in the little corner Shirosaki's special cell was tucked away in. "Being...magical, I guess, a shaman."
A small smirk pulled at porcelain features, yet still the shaman remained curled around himself, wrapped in the knight's dark greyish blue cloak. "I've been one since birth, I couldn't really tell ya, since I got nothin' ta compare it to...but I can tell ya what it's like ta suddenly have it out of reach..."
Grimmjow let his eyes drift back to the shaman, waiting for the man to continue. Golden eyes remained trained on the cold cobble floor of the cell even as pale arms tightened around the young man's legs and he hugged himself tighter.
"It's...dark, cold." Shirosaki's watery voice was low, thin. "Like...sinkin' in the sea, all the way down where the water's almost black and ya can only see yer hands reachin' fer help in the dark but it's even darker still below ya. It's heavy an' it's foreign an' there's no air. Hard not ta panic, hard not ta scream fer help even though ya know tha' would only make ya drown faster. So ya reach fer help an' ya try not ta fear wha' might come outta the dark after ya... But I know the only thing reachin' in the water ta pull me out's a monster wit' a crown...So I'm gonna drown...on purpose."
The pale man jolted when a big hand reached through the bars and settled upon his arm, warm and heavy and alive. Shirosaki looked up to meet blue eyes, seeing what the knight was telling him, even without words. Grimmjow was not a monster, had no crown. He was just a man, and he was reaching into the water too. The knight, a man who worked under Aizen, was attempting to pull him from the abyss he was willing to let himself sink in. The knight was only following orders, being a good knight...he had no real desire to keep Shirosaki locked away.
"At least think on it. There are worse things than servitude to a king..." Grimmjow told the smaller male as he retracted his hand and began to stand, his deep, rumbling voice like grating stone in the dank dungeon.
Shirosaki didn't move from where he sat. He watched the knight cross to the staircase that led out, waiting until Grimmjow's foot hit the first step. "Is there?"
The knight paused for a split second, a hesitation in his step, before he continued. He didn't bother to turn back to the shaman, knowing it hadn't really been a question asked out of curiosity, but one that was meant to make Grimmjow think. And, in that split second, blue brows had furrowed with a revealed truth Grimmjow had not before allowed himself to see. All it took were those two little words, a simple inquiry.
The shaman sighed and spoke to nothing as the knight continued up the stairs. "As I thought; ya long for freedom as much as I do."
Grimmjow's angular features were set in a harsh scowl, anger pulling at his brow and annoyance tugging his lips into a sneer. But none of it was directed at whom he thought it probably should have been. Instead of Shirosaki being the target of his agitation, it was himself. He stormed passed the guard at the top of the stairs and the man jolted into a saluting stance as he passed, before quickly scurrying back down the stairs to his post after Grimmjow was out of sight.
How could a man upset everything in his life so easily; his thoughts, the way he looked at the things that were most important to him, the light in which he saw his king? Everything was tilting, slanting on an axis Grimmjow had bolted down long ago. He had nearly everything he could possibly ask for. People only dreamed of working with the king, let alone at the man's side. He had nearly the highest standing in all the kingdom, literally right under the king himself. He could have anything he wanted and if he couldn't get it himself, he only had to ask Lord Aizen and he would gain the permission needed. So why was he so entirely shaken by what a single man said? It didn't even matter that Shirosaki wasn't exactly a normal man, that he had magical properties. Everything that was causing Grimmjow's wall to crumble had been simple, honest words. No magic involved.
Grimmjow snarled to himself, his thoughts awhirl, as he neared the castle's entrance. Still early, most of the staff and occupants slept, but the streets of the village were beginning to stir as the citizens under Aizen's rule began their busy days. The knight with unique blue hair fled the castle's walls and stepped out into the fresh air once more. Stone walls were stifling him, trapping him with heavy thoughts and no room to spread his wings.
Stopping by the stables, he saddled his horse, ignoring as the stableboy who normally took care of such menial tasks watch him from a corner of the royal barn. With a destination already in mind, mostly as a way too cool off a bit before he found Lord Aizen, he mounted up and headed across town.
The people bustling around in the streets were careful to avoid his path, giving him a clear trail and plenty of leeway as he rode. Grimmjow took a straight route toward the blacksmith's shop and though he didn't rush his horse into anything faster than it's normal, brusque walk, he didn't exactly drag the trip out either. When he arrived, he slid from the saddle, pulling at the reins to lead the animal to a tie out post, and crossed the threshold of the shop.
The blacksmith shop was less of a shop, really, more of an open air building. There were two walls and an overhang, the hot fires used for the man's trade placed in the back corner and away from the street. Everything generally had a fine coating of soot and even with the missing walls, it was still nearly stifling hot.
Grimmjow's armored boots, the bottoms of his pants tucked into the tops, quietly thumped upon the hard packed earth of the floor. The steady, rhythmic cadence of the blacksmith's hammer upon whatever he worked on filled the air, covering his approach as the burly man lost himself in his work. He stood for a few moments, simply watching as the blacksmith worked while he waited to be noticed.
After a few minutes, the man straightened, examining his handy work while he wiped sweat from his brow before thrusting the sword he'd been working on back into the coals of his fire. Finally, he pulled an old, dirty towel from his back pocket and whipped his hands upon it.
"What can I do for you?" He asked before he'd realized who stood in his shop. When he'd turned to see who hovered near by, a look of surprise crossed his dirt smeared features. "My apologies, Sir, I hadn't realized it was you."
"Not a problem." Grimmjow waved off the apology. Had he been worried about it, he would have made his presence known. "Have you yet mended my armor?"
"Mostly. I reworked the gauntlet already. A few of the finger joints needed replacing but that's finished. And I've hammered out that dent in the breastplate and smoothed it, but I've yet to fill the grooves and roll the inside where the metal was pushed inward."
"Might I see?" Grimmjow asked, knowing full well the man wouldn't refuse.
"Yeah, of course." The blacksmith tucked his towel away again and moved further into the shop, pausing at a large table where the gauntlet and breastplate were laid out. He picked up the gauntlets and handed them over since they were done being reworked and cleaned, but he simply flipped the breastplate over to inspect the deep gouging in the front. He ran a rough finger over them, feeling their depth. "Musta been a hell of a set of blades. I'm going to have to melt down some of the same type of steel, heat this up," He rapped his knuckles on the armor, "and see if I can fill 'em in and polish it out. But I'm not sure how well I'll be able to blend it. You'll probably still be able to see where the metal had to be mended."
"Claws, actually," Grimmjow let a slight smirk tug at one corner of his lips as he listened to the man. "and I'm not overly worried about the marks. That armor is far too...pretty anyway, a few marks do it some good. But will it withstand fighting or is the metal weakened?"
The blacksmith clapped a hand over Grimmjow's shoulder and laughed at his comment, almost relieved to hear the knight thought the armor too ornamental as well. He'd thought the very same when he'd been commissioned to create it for Lord Aizen's knights years ago. "Oh it should be plenty sturdy enough. The marks are pretty deep but they're not over the fold, nor do they cross each other. Even without being filled they shouldn't be much of a weak point."
"Excellent. Than if you have the time, would you be so kind as to quickly clean and shine it up so that I might take it back to the castle with me?" His rough tone was polite enough, but the pleasantries didn't quite make it to his features.
"Yes, of course." The blacksmith gave the knight a curious look, noting the bite to the man's mood. Grabbing the breastplate, he took it over to a different section of his shop to begin polishing out all the dirty smudging and traces of his work. "Pardon my prying, but lady troubles, Sir Jaegerjaquez?"
Grimmjow snorted a derisive sound. "Not so much."
"Surely a man of your standing has a lady, yeah?" The blacksmith looked up from his work with a bit of a grin. "Though, you're still young. Perhaps you're too busy running around for just one woman?"
The knight laughed but shook his head. "Neither is quite right, I assure you."
"Then perhaps you need to get one. Women make everything better." The blacksmith wiped a clean cloth across the freshly polished armor, holding it up and rotating it in the light to inspect it.
Grimmjow grunted and quirked a brow but remained silent. He thanked the man for his services and his advice, even if he wouldn't be putting it to use, and accepted the freshly repaired breastplate. Before he mounted his horse, he pulled the armor on, buckling the side straps, and dawned his gauntlets. Feeling much more like himself with his armor back, he swung himself into the saddle and turned the horse about, headed back toward the castle.
By the time he made it back across the village through the crowded streets and to the castle, the guards had changed shifts and a new set of alert men and women greeted him. He dismounted, taking his time in leading his horse back to it's stable, before finally entering the castle proper. He hadn't made it more than a few steps down the high ceilinged corridor that led to the throne room when shouting voices and wild snarling echoed through the hall.
Reacting faster than the door guards around him, Grimmjow took off in a sprint and rounded a corner in the hallway, the guards several paces behind. As he approached the steep stairway, cut from the very earth, leading into the dungeons, a pained shout echoed to them. Charging to the entrance of the stairway, Grimmjow jerked to a halt when a pale figure, fleeing backwards up the stairs, slammed into him. The knight nearly lost his footing, stumbling even as he attempted to snag hold of Shirosaki.
He caught a glimpse of a bloodied figure as a man fell backward and against the other's racing up the stairs behind the shaman, then he was directing his attention back to the fleeing captive. Time seemed to freeze, everything happening within the time span of a split second. Gold on black met his own gaze, the shaman's eyes wide beneath furrowed brows. Rounded pupils began to elongate as the teeth bared in Shirosaki's snarl sharpened, growing into something far more dangerous. The long, ashen hair cascading around his shoulders and down his back seemed to take hold and bristle, the strands shortening as the area they covered increased. White ears pinned back in aggression, black nails lengthened, sharpened into claws.
In that short moment, Grimmjow froze. His mind came to a halt as his reactions slowed with his hesitation, as his gut instinct and want told him to let the shaman get away, let the pale man continue. The guards would never be able to stop him. Their strength would be nothing when compared to Shirosaki's. Their speed would be laughable. The shaman would be free again, things would be set right and an innocent man would keep his life.
And then that moment was over, and Grimmjow caught his balance. His training kicked in, the mind of a knight under the most powerful king in the land. He had a job to do and he never failed. Reaching out, gaze still locked with Shirosaki's, he saw a flicker of something like disappointment, maybe even betrayal, flash through vibrant gold before his hand snagged in pale hair that was as soft as the fur of the animal the shaman had been in the process of shifting into.
Colorless features twisted in anger, in threat and a bit of pain, but even though the surprised knight's desperate catch wouldn't hold him, it slowed Shirosaki enough for the guards he'd been fleeing from to catch up. He was thrown from his feet and to the hard ground as a fully armored guard crashed into him and drove him down from behind. He slid under the man's weight, a snarling, watery yelp pushed from his lungs on contact with the tile. Before he could begin attempting to wrench himself free of the entrapping guardsman, others were upon him. But not the blue haired knight.
Grimmjow stood back, sever brows furrowed and handsome features pulled into something between a sneer and a scowl. His cerulean eyes swirled with an inner chaos, none of which seemed to agree with what he was seeing as Shirosaki struggled desperately under the overwhelming number of guards attempting to recapture him, to throw him back in that cursed, magic sealing cell and force him to await his death.
Every bit like the wild animal he could look like, the shaman snarled and growled. He fought and struggled and lashed out. Black claws tore exposed flesh, left twisted, angry trails along armor. Sharpened teeth were either bared in desperate rage or snapping shut with enough force to echo down the hall. He was at his strongest like this, half way between forms, when he was gifted with the swiftness and speed of the fox, but still retained the size of a man, when his nails were more like claws and his fangs looked more like a canine's. But he was still outmatched, overwhelmed and overpowered. There were just too many guards. His only chance had lied with the surprise he'd created and speed enough to flee. Now, that was gone and he knew it, yet still he struggled.
The guards no longer fought to catch him, but fought to hold him down, to bind him. They no longer simply grabbed hold, but began delivering blows, attempting to stay him, debilitate the feral man. Angered that the shaman had made fools of most of them, those hits were certainly less than kind. Another watery yelp, losing all it's anger and only shrieking of pain, pierced the air. There was a thud and a crunch and Shirosaki fell mostly still, weakly pushing at the guards crowding around him as he fought more to pull air into his lungs rather than to free himself.
"Enough."
Grimmjow's heavy, commanding tone pulled everyone's attention. The rough growl in the knight's voice promised punishment for any disobedience and no man in his right mind would bring that upon himself.
Slowly, the guards began to pull away, hesitating in freeing up their freshly recaptured prisoner. They didn't go far, however, and remained in a loose circle, Grimmjow and the shaman at the center. Shirosaki lay panting for a moment, even after he was no longer held to the ground. Dark, nearly black blood smeared the lower half of his features. More smeared his bare abdomen, though there was a fair bit covering his hands and arms that was far too red to be his own. Slowly, he rolled onto his stomach, uncaring of his lack of dress. His pointed ears fell forward and down, no longer held back in aggression and his white tail curled between his legs in a very canine display of everything negative; fear, pain, nervousness, anger.
With a bit of difficulty, he pushed one arm under him and pulled himself into something a bit less prone, long legs pulled under him and lean body tense. He held the other arm close to his torso, the wound caused by a well shot arrow glistening wetly in the light as the joint began darkening to a purple before the onlooker's very eyes. Locked in a cage that negated his magic, the wound hadn't been allowed to close as swiftly as it should have, relying fully on a human's meager healing abilities.
Still, he didn't rise from the ground, even as his fiery gaze found Grimmjow's yet again. He watched emotion and thought war in blue orbs. The knight that had captured the shaman was so very conflicted with the situation he'd brought upon himself.
"Retrieve my cloak." Blue eyes snapped over to the nearest guard, the only sign he gave that he didn't speak to the shaman kneeling on the ground. When no one moved to do as he told, his lip curled and he turned to stare at the guard directly, a single brow raising.
Straightening, the man hesitated before turning and dashing down the stairs to the cell where the shaman had been kept. For the few moments it took the guard to do as his higher up bid, all remained silent. Shirosaki's unnerving gaze never left Grimmjow, completely disregarding the other people crowded around them, ringing him in like a living cage. They meant nothing to him and it showed.
When the guard returned, he handed over the requested article, bowing ever so slightly as the knight took it from him. Grimmjow ignored him, taking another step toward the injured and panting shaman. Draping the cloak back around lithe shoulders, he stooped on Shirosaki's level, still silent. Finally, blue eyes left gold and drifted off to the side a bit, landing on the darkening marks around the arrow puncture.
"Sir Jaegerjaquez...might we ask what you're doing?" A guard dared ask, breaking the silence.
Still not taking his eyes from the shaman, he carefully laid his hand across the discolored flesh he studied, feeling the unnatural heat it radiated. He took note of the well hidden wince that crossed pale features before disappearing again. Finally, he answered the guard. "He's in need of a healer."
"But Sir! He's-"
"His fate has yet to be determined and while he remains under my watch, he will not be treated as an already condemned man." Grimmjow showed only the slightest hesitation before effortlessly pulling the smaller man from the ground, his dark, greyish blue cloak wrapped tightly around the shaman's lean, bare form. He turned away from his comrades, headed in the direction Shirosaki had been attempting his escape in.
"Nor will he be treated as anything less than human." Grimmjow added, a quiet growl to his voice. He knew the guards would hear him and understand. Their cruelty had been less than necessary, and he'd yet to find out how the shaman had managed his escape in the first place. They must have opened the cage for some reason.
The pale man hissed a sound that was equally as pained as it was aggressive, his lip curling as he pressed a hand to his wounded shoulder. He struggled to keep his breathing even and light, jaw clenched and body rigid in Grimmjow's hold. "Why're ya doin' this?" He asked in a quiet snarl as the guards were left behind.
A slight smirk quirked one side of Grimmjow's lips, but the expression was mostly humorless. "It is as I already said; I will not allow you to be treated like this. No one but me knows you've refused Aizen's offer just yet, and I still pray you'll change your mind."
"I wont."
Grimmjow sighed, that small smirk dropping again. "I know...but I wish you would. I do not wish to see your death."
A small frown etched the shaman's pale features as they fell silent for a few steps, before he looked back up at the knight. "I can walk on my own."
"Yes, I'm aware of this." The knight's small smirk was back as swiftly as it had fallen, holding more humor this time. A bit of a cunning and amused glint lit his blue eyes.
"Than release me." Shirosaki squirmed, pushing against the bigger man in his attempt to put his feet on the ground and do as he said he was capable of.
The knight didn't release him and thick arms only held him tighter as Grimmjow chuckled. "So that you can flee again? I think not."
"I could kill ya right now." Shirosaki said as though it was a simple observation, not really a threat, but not exactly friendly either. "Ya leave yourself defenseless while holdin' another man's weight."
"Yes, I've little doubt you could..." Grimmjow looked down at the man, but his steps didn't falter and no trace of fear could be found on his features. "But I'm not quite as vulnerable as you seem to think."
The shaman gave him a look before his lip curled to flash still sharpened teeth. His golden eyes dropped to glance over the breastplate the knight wore again, pale fingers following Shirosaki's gaze. He pressed his fingertips to the cool metal as his black nails sharpened again, before dragging them across the knight's armored chest, just hard enough so that his claws created a harsh grinding sound against the metal. "This pitiful armor? It's hardly a worthy defense against one such as me."
"You're right, but that isn't what I meant." Grimmjow chuckled as they rounded a bend in the long corridor and neared the room where the castle's healer was stationed. "You wont try to kill me because you don't want to. In the cave, those claws of yours cut through my armor, but failed to open wide my throat? You didn't want me dead before, nor do you now."
A small growl rumbled in the shaman's chest and the knight smirked.
As Grimmjow stepped foot in what was considered the medical ward, pointed fox ears flattened as the shaman's sharp eyes took in the large room and the few people bustling about. All attention was turned toward him and the man carrying him and, being in the castle of his greatest enemy, he wasn't exactly comfortable or at ease. White lips peeled back, baring sharp teeth as the smaller male unconsciously shrank against Grimmjow a bit more.
"Easy..." Grimmjow rumbled under his breath as he walked toward an indicated table. "These people help, not hurt."
"Bet Aizen'd say the same 'bout himself." Shirosaki mumbled.
Needless to say, the healer employed at the castle was the very best and when a knight as high standing as Sir Jaegerjaquez walked in carrying a wounded man, said patient was given top priority. The injury itself was pretty obvious, so the doctor got busy the moment Grimmjow had set Shirosaki down on a table and stepped back to both get out of the way as well as post himself as a guard to insure the shaman wouldn't be fleeing again.
Shirosaki's tenseness was obvious, but so too was his curiosity as he studied the healer, the room, the rest of the staff and anything that moved. Aided by the keen senses of a fox, nothing escaped his notice. When the healer finally dismissed him, Shirosaki hopped to the floor, slipping out of the knight's warm cape to hand it back to the big man.
Grimmjow rushed forward, taking it from his hand only to wrap it back around him as the healer and his staff fell into a shocked silence. He settled his big hands on the shaman's shoulders, simultaneously holding the cloak in place as well as steering the smaller man out of the room. "Come on..." Grimmjow mumbled, hurriedly leading the way.
"I'm grateful, but it's not so cold up here," The shaman said as he looked up at the knight and once more began removing the man's cloak from where it was wrapped about him. "an' I have my magic again. Ya can have it back."
"Well...while you're in the rest of the castle, with other people, you kind of need to stay, uh, covered." Grimmjow explained, still making sure the cloak stayed where it was and hid the shaman's lack of clothing. As amusing as the situation was, he couldn't bring himself to find it so and his smile fell before it had really even shown itself. A grimace flashed across his features as he directed his blue eyes anywhere but at the shaman's own commanding gaze. "...and you'll need it again..."
The pale man's ashen brows furrowed as his gaze finally fell away from the knight. "Yer gonna lock me back in tha' cage." He said quietly, the helpless dread he felt showing in his tone.
"I have to..." The knight's own dislike of the situation showed easily, his regret and silent apology ringing in the way he answered the shaman. He didn't want to lock Shirosaki away. He didn't want to strip the shaman of his power, even if it was temporary. He didn't want to force the pale man to decide between death and servitude. But he was a knight...and he had a job to do.
The shaman fell silent, no longer attempting to remove the cloak from around his shoulders as they walked. He knew the knight was leading him back toward the dungeons, but he didn't struggle this time. He allowed himself to be led down the steep stairs, feeling the chill grow the further down they went. The air grew more stale, less alive. The filtered light of the sun gave way to that of flickering candles and lanterns. Then, as his bare feet left the hard packed earth of the stairs and landed on the cold, uneven cobble that made up the dungeon's flooring, the cage he'd been forced into the day before came into view and he paused, steps faltering.
The guard posted in the dungeon stiffened, hand on his sword as he watched the shaman. Grimmjow shot the man an unmistakable and threatening look. Shirosaki slowly turned his gaze on the man, letting a cruel smirk curl his lips and bare his fangs at the guard, before he straightened and continued. He was a powerful shaman and a proud man. He wouldn't let the lowly guards know of his fears.
When they'd crossed the small space to the magically warded cage, Grimmjow pulled the unlocked door back, lip curling as his mind automatically drifted to the reason it had been unlocked in the first place, seeing as he hadn't given anyone permission to do so. He made a mental note to go and have a discussion with the guards responsible.
Unlike the day before, he didn't have to throw the shaman into the cell this time. A small amount of pressure, a hand on the smaller male's back, was all it took to get Shirosaki to enter on his own. Golden eyes turned to look over one pale shoulder at the knight as the shaman entered, watching as Grimmjow shut the cell door behind him.
Turning back to face the knight, Shirosaki slowly lowered himself to sit in the middle of the cell as he had before, pulling the cloak tight about his lean frame. Already he could feel the deadening effects of the wards as they hid his power deep within himself, sealing it away where even he couldn't get to it. Once again, the voices of his people fell silent and left him feeling empty and alone.
It must have showed in the shaman's expression, at least to some degree, and a frown tugged at angular features. Grimmjow slowly pulled the door back open and moved to sit in the doorway, some part of him not willing to lock the smaller man away again so soon. At least with him acting as a barrier, he knew the shaman wouldn't be able to escape again, not so easily as he had with the guards, but hopefully the opened door would help to lesson the burden of the wards, if only a bit, and give the shaman some form of comfort back.
A small smirk tugged at one corner of the shaman's colorless lips, but his golden eyes remained on the floor. The opened door broke many of the wards, but not enough for him to really grasp onto his power. He couldn't shift, nor reach for any of his other powers, but it allowed for whispers to reach him, broken thoughts from those within him. All those quiet whispers tried desperately to tell him Aizen had plans.
"Ya don' gotta sit with me." He told the knight quietly. "I blame ya for none of this."
Grimmjow grunted a humorless laugh, adjusting his sword so that it settled across his lap. "I'd almost prefer that you did."
Back in the throne room, Aizen sat with the smallest of smirks on his face. He had no magic of his own. He couldn't actually see what was going on, but he had eyes everywhere. This was his castle after all. A low ranking guard bowed before him as the man reported the actions and whereabouts of Sir Jaegerjaquez and the captive shaman.
"He does a remarkable job of disobeying and obeying at the same time." Lord Aizen commented after dismissing the guard. He hardly knew whether he should be reprimanding his knight or commending him. He flagged down another guard as he stood from his throne and crossed the room to peer out the window and down at the village below and beyond the castle's borders. "Go fetch Sir Jaegerjaquez for me."
"Of course, my lord." The man bowed and scurried off to do as he was told by his king.
Still seated upon the dungeon floor before the pale shaman, Grimmjow watched as downcast, golden eyes slid off to the side, toward the staircase that led in and out of the dungeon. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, his first thought that the fox shaman was thinking of another escape, but as the soft echo of approaching footsteps caught his attention he too looked in that direction.
"You've very sharp senses." Grimmjow commented quietly as the runner finally descended into view. He caught the barest hint of a smirk out of the corner of his eyes, as the shaman nodded.
"The perks of havin' fox blood run in my veins." The pale man answered, voice even quieter than Grimmjow's as he watched the newest man approach he and the knight from sharp eyes.
Grimmjow didn't bother to stand as the lower ranking man stopped beside him and bowed slightly, waiting to be addressed. "Yes? What is it?"
"Lord Aizen has requested your presence, Sir." The man said, his eyes straying from the knight, to the shaman that adamantly seemed to ignore him, and back.
Blue brows furrowed as Grimmjow looked back toward the shaman before climbing to his feet. He grabbed hold of the cell door, but didn't swing it shut just yet as he looked down at the pale man. After a silent moment, the shaman finally looked up at him, his golden eyes cold and masked. "What should I tell the king?" Grimmjow asked in a quiet, whisper of a voice, though he already knew the answer.
"My answer has not changed." Shirosaki told the knight, a bit of smirk tugging at his features. It was a silent goodbye to the man that had gotten him into this situation, but did not wish it upon him.
Grimmjow seemed to understand and his frown deepened but he nodded and slowly swung the door closed, letting the metal clank with a harsh finality as he locked it. He matched the shaman's gaze between the bars for a moment more before turning away. As he headed toward the stairs, not looking back, he barked out a warning to the dungeon guard. "If this cell is opened again, by anyone other than myself, the culprit wont make it to the healer and neither will you."
The man's eyes widened and he straightened at his post, but he swallowed and nodded his understanding as the infamous knight passed. "Y-yes, Sir!"
Grimmjow left the dungeon behind and made his way to the throne room. The doors were already pulled open in wait for his arrival and the king was once more seated in his throne.
"Ah, Grimmjow. A timely response as always." Aizen said, his voice flat and his intelligent eyes cold. No doubt he too knew what was to happen very soon. "I've heard word that you've spoken with our prisoner. What says he to my proposal?"
The knight was silent for a moment, his features set into a hard, grim expression as he looked upon his king. "He has declined your offer."
"As I had expected." Aizen nodded slightly, but didn't look the least bit perturbed or disappointed with the shaman's choice. Eyes still trained on his knight, a tiny hint of a sardonic smirk tugged at his features, barely noticeable for those not used to looking for it. "You seem to be missing part of your uniform, Grimmjow."
"Yes, sir." The knight said, lip curling slightly and much less respect in his tone than there should have been. "It gets rather cold in the dungeon."
"I see, well that wont be a problem for long." Aizen watched his knight carefully. It wasn't hard to see the displeasure, anger and even the hint of guilt that swirled so readily and vibrantly in blue eyes. "Bring the shaman to me. I would speak with him myself."
Grimmjow said nothing, simply taking a deep breath, his lip curling, as he turned about and headed back toward the dungeons. It didn't take him long to get back and when he entered the below ground area, the shaman stood where he'd been previously seated, turned to face the locked cell door, but head turned so that his golden eyes locked with Grimmjow's. He hardly seemed surprised that the knight was back so soon.
Nearing the cell door, Grimmjow unlocked it and pulled it open before stepping out of the way and motioning for Shirosaki to follow him. The shaman did, looking up at the knight as he removed the borrowed cloak and draped it over one of the bigger male's arms. Grimmjow seemed to understand the gesture. The shaman would remain defiant while in the king's presence, despite that he'd been civil enough with the knight in his short time at the castle. He would not allow Aizen to see his hesitations, nor anything other than his fire.
"You are accepting of this fate?" He asked the shaman quietly as they made their way toward the stairs, side by side. His hand was locked around the pale man's upper arm, leading him, but there was very little force in the hold, merely a show for those around them.
Shirosaki nodded ever so slightly.
"You'll attempt escape." Again the shaman nodded, his answers truthful with the knight that had been according him the same courtesy.
"I will." The smaller man admitted. He would allow for himself to be killed over the alternative of being in servitude to Aizen, but that didn't mean he would let it happen willingly. He would do all he could to escape, to fight his way free. He would either have his freedom again, or he would be killed in his attempt. Either way, he would die untamed. "You'll try ta stop me."
There wasn't much of a question in the shaman's tone, but Grimmjow's silence was a heavy one, laden with thought and silent debate. As they made it to the top of the stairs and turned down the corridor, the knight finally answered the shaman's words with an equally heavy truth. "I have not yet decided."
Golden eyes were turned upward to catch his own, ashen brows raised in a surprisingly well done parody of a lost puppy look, despite that that wasn't at all what the shaman had been doing. Grimmjow grimaced, not matching the smaller man's look, easily seeing the poorly concealed desperation there.
When they made it to the throne room, pale lips curled to bare white, sharpened teeth at the king. Aizen sat upon his throne, amusement almost visible on his features. The king let that moment drag out, watched as golden eyes left his form to sweep over the rest of the room, pinning on his other knight for an appraising moment before going back to the king himself. But not once did the shaman's cunning gaze turn toward Grimmjow. Brown eyes narrowed ever so slightly as Aizen cast his intelligent eyes upon his most famous knight. Before he said anything, he already knew how the blue haired man would react, he could see it as easily as the shaman no doubt could.
"This is your last chance to accept my offer." Aizen finally addressed the shaman, not dancing around his point. "Either agree to aid me, or you will be executed."
"I'll not join ya." Shirosaki's lilting voice was firm and unhesitant, leaving no room for doubt. "You will have ta kill me."
Lord Aizen finally let his smirk show as he motioned toward the shaman with a single wave of his hand and spoke a short command. "Ulquiorra."
"Of course, Lord Aizen." Ulquiorra's dead monotone was accompanied by the hiss of his sword being drawn from it's scabbard. He stepped from the king's side and was before the shaman in the blink of an eye, sword raised and ready to swing. But when the blade came down, too swift for the shaman to duck out of the way, it rang against steel and was halted.
Grimmjow stood, his own sword held unwaveringly against his fellow knight's and halting it from harming the pale shaman, and looked to his king. "Do not do this, Aizen...he is an innocent man. There is no need to kill him..."
Though the word itself hadn't actually been present, it was the closet thing to pleading Aizen had ever heard from his surly knight. "You would defy me, Grimmjow?"
"I would ask you to reconsider." As Ulquiorra withdrew his sword, Grimmjow retracted his own, though did not slide it back into the scabbard at his hip. His eyes remained on Aizen, but he watched the other knight as he nudged the pale shaman further behind himself.
"I will not reconsider. He either joins me or he falls here and now." The king intoned in a cold voice. His dark eyes found and bored into Grimmjow with considerable weight, but the blue haired knight did not falter. "You will oppose me?"
There was no turning back now. He'd already raised his sword in defense of a condemned man, and against the king's orders at that. Even if he were to step down now, it was likely he would be imprisoned. As it was, however, he had no intentions of standing down and watching as the shaman was unjustly slaughtered. "I will."
"I will mourn your loss, Grimmjow, you were an excellent knight." But there was no sorrow in the king's eyes, no sense of loss, nor regret or even surprise. With the powerful man's words, Ulquiorra danced into action again. Grimmjow's sword once more caught the obedient knight's own and the harsh sound of steel clashing rang through the might throne room.
"Flee!" Grimmjow commanded the shaman as he pushed Ulquiorra's blade back and dove in for an attack of his own.
But the shaman's inverted, fiery eyes were locked with Aizen's. His lithe body was tense and rage twisted ghostly features. Bared teeth sharpened with the shaman's aggression as his white, pointed ears dropped back and he too sprang into motion, sprinting in the opposite direction Grimmjow had had in mind with all the swiftness of a fox.
The ensuing battle was chaos. Swords flashed in the lighting of the throne room. Guards stormed the large room and advisors scurried out of harm's way, untrained for battle. Aizen ended up with a sword of his own, facing off against the unarmed shaman that held so much hate for him.
The lower ranking guards were no match for Grimmjow, even as he engaged Ulquiorra. They were cut down, sometimes by Ulquiorra himself, as they got in the way of the two battling knights. After several had fallen wounded or slain at the dueling knights' feet, the rest held back in favor of merely watching, waiting to see what would happen. Neither Grimmjow nor Ulquiorra payed particular attention to the guards. Grimmjow, however, did watch the shaman from his peripheral, despite that splitting his focus could get him killed against an opponent like Ulquiorra.
Shirosaki's enhanced swiftness and agility were all that kept him away from biting steel, but he did well at deftly avoiding the king's blade. Aizen was certainly no pushover with a sword, he knew how to fight as well as any of his men, but the man that had chosen to challenge him wasn't a normal person, and the wound he'd been suffering from while fighting Grimmjow those few days ago was on it's way to mending, no longer open and quite so sore. When the shaman saw an opening, he used his speed to his advantage, and he didn't miss his opportunities. He had something to prove, a task to accomplish, judgement to deliver.
Black claws cut through flesh, screeched against armor and tore cloth. The shaman used the same tactic he had against Grimmjow. He stayed in close, forced the king into close combat that made his sword near useless.
But Aizen was a tricky man, cunning and wise. He was ever prepared and had known the shaman wouldn't go down without a fight, so when he'd been brought in alive, the king took measures. When Shirosaki cut in close, using a steady and surprisingly strong hand to hold Aizen's own sword wielding one out to the side, Aizen reached around himself with his free hand a pulled a dagger from his belt.
Shirosaki gasped a surprised breath as cold steel slashed across his bare ribcage. Blood slowly welled to the surface, but with his twisting movements as he danced away from the king and the shorter blade, the trickle grew. It dripped down his side, followed the dips and curve of his hip. He'd caught sight of the glittering blade, his predatory, keen eyes picking up on movement in time to avoid the thrust it was meant to be. The wound should have been much worse, but in order to avoid the dagger, he had been forced to back up, which put him right back in striking range of the king's sword.
The shaman automatically pressed a hand flush to the wound, teeth bared as dark blood smeared his pale skin and fire raced down his ribcage. Golden eyes glanced down to take in the damage, but already he could feel the spirits of his people begin working to slow the bleeding and knit new muscle and flesh. He looked up just in time to see Aizen's sword catch the lighting.
Grimmjow saw as well. He disengaged Ulquiorra with a wild, but forceful swing of his sword that forced the smaller knight to block and back away. His window was small, but Grimmjow wasn't one of the most well known knights in all the kingdom for no reason. "Down!" He yelled a warning to the shaman as he spun away from Ulquiorra and brought his mighty sword around.
Shirosaki did what the bigger man said, dropping instantly, just in time for Grimmjow's sword to flash over him and collide with Aizen's in a powerful, upward sweeping arch. The strength Grimmjow powered into his swing halted Aizen's strike and pushed his sword up and back, leaving the king's midsection open and unguarded.
Just as Grimmjow was pulling his sword back in preparation to strike again, Shirosaki surged up and forward. With the bone breaking strength he'd demonstrated against the hunters sent after him, the very same strength that had dented Grimmjow's armor in the cave, Shirosaki cracked ribs and broke the king's sternum as he attacked.
The sternum was the anchor point for much of the muscle used in the body's core and upper half. Aizen's breath fled his lungs in a stunned pant as pain flared through his body. The blunt force trauma was enough to weaken his grasp on his sword, nearly making him drop it. As he doubled over slightly, the body's automatic response in effort to protect the damaged area, Grimmjow was already in motion with his next attack and Shirosaki was already out of the way again.
As Grimmjow swung, Shirosaki ducked low to stay out of the way and spun out to the side, coming back up around behind the big knight just in time for what had been intended as a killing blow to the blue haired man. Ulquiorra had regained his balance and control of his sword, and had surged forward in silence. He swung for Grimmjow's unguarded back, his blade aimed high to decapitate.
With the shaman's new position, the strike would have caught the pale creature in the side of the head, had Shirosaki not been so swift. He couldn't simply back out of the way, Grimmjow was too close. Nor could he duck, because that would leave the blue haired knight dead. His only option was stopping the sword. Much as he'd done in the cave against the first knight he'd faced, Shirosaki used the flat of his palm to redirect the blade. Reaching high, he pushed downward, catching the flat of Ulquiorra's sword. It wasn't perfect, the sword had been too high, but the shaman once more ignored as his palm was torn open, nearly to the bone. He pushed the sword, used all his strength and all his speed, sending it as low as he possibly could while he pushed off the ground in a quick burst of lean muscle.
His feet left the ground and the momentum of Ulquiorra's swing combined with the force of Shirosaki's push forced the blade below the jumping shaman. The tip ground against the smooth stone flooring with a sharp grating sound and a few sparks, harmlessly missing both Shirosaki and Grimmjow.
As the shaman landed, he once more used his enhanced swiftness and agility, and let the balls of his feet snap down upon the blade's flat. A bit of dark blood smeared the floor, but the hilt was yanked from Ulquiorra's hand, the sound echoing in the mighty room as the smaller of the two knight's was left defenseless and Aizen already lay bleeding out near by.
Turning round, Grimmjow leveled his sword as Shirosaki quickly pulled himself away from the dropped sword, hissing a breath through clenched teeth. Once he realized the shaman was out of his sword's range, the blue haired knight swung. Ulquiorra fell back, leaving his sword and attempting to dodge out of the way, but he wasn't quite quick enough and Grimmjow's blade crunched through ornamental armor and sliced a deep, ragged furrow through the pale flesh of his chest.
Rushing to the pale, bleeding shaman, Grimmjow pulled the panting man back upright and gave him a rough push toward the doors. "Go!" He yelled with a snarl as the guards, who'd been staring in stunned and shocked horror at the display, began surging into motion once more. People flooded the room from the back entrance, rushing to the king's side as well as to the fallen knight's as Ulquiorra struggled to breath through torn lungs where he lay on the floor.
A small, animalistic whimper crawled from the shaman's throat, his canine ears back and down in a way that was somehow less angry aggression and more skittish, fox-like nervousness. Wide, golden eyes turned to fix on Grimmjow as the knight turned back away and faced the men rushing to circle them.
"Take my horse!" Grimmjow commanded the shaman, leveling his sword at the ready, an aggressive, menacing sneer baring his white teeth. "Get out of here, flee into the forest where you're safe."
Ashen brows furrowed, but Shirosaki knew he'd never be a match to all the men swarming them. He also knew Grimmjow would be worn down and defeated eventually as well. He was already half way through shifting, muscle contracting, fur growing. His tail tucked between his legs and he bared sharp little teeth as he was reduced to a speedy little, white fox.
"You take the horse an' come wit' me!" Shirosaki snapped back at the knight, though he already knew the big man intended to hold his stand and fight back as many as possible. He was intending to give the shaman time, trying to correct the mistake he'd made when he'd captured the pale man. "Don' die, Sir Jaegerjaquez. I do not wish ta see the death of so noble a man."
That brought a bit of a smirk to Grimmjow's lips as he nodded and swung his sword. Steel clashing against steel echoed through the great throne room as Shirosaki used his small size and great speed to swiftly make his exit. Even the few people that dared make a grab for him stood little chance in catching him.
Shirosaki didn't slow his wild run until already deep in the forest. He'd lost the few men pursuing him along the edge, where the undergrowth was thick and the shadows deep. Being small and swift, he'd easily sped away unseen, despite his pale color. Finally halting, Shirosaki shifted back to his human form, standing and stumbling a few paces only to drop panting against a tree. His ribs ached, the slash tearing through enough layers of his flesh to fray the thin muscle below, but it wouldn't leave him crippled or anything. It was merely painful. His palm was another matter. It'd felt mildly better in his fox form, if only because he didn't really have hands like that. But the run still hadn't exactly been good for it.
The cuts along his bare feet would be fine. They weren't so deep and already, from the few steps he'd taken after shifting, the earth and dirt he walked upon provided excellent material with which to force the wounds to clot, halting the bleeding. Despite what pain he was in, Shirosaki sighed a blissful breath, head tilted upward as he scented fresh, clean air. Sitting against the tree trunk, he curled his fingers into the dirt and leaf litter he sat upon and reveled in no longer being surrounded by cold, stone walls.
He sat for a moment, regaining his breath and feeling the magic that coursed through his veins. Despite that Grimmjow had been the one to capture the shaman and throw him to his most hated enemy, Shirosaki hoped the knight lived. No matter what Grimmjow had done, he'd still been the one to free the shaman again, and he also helped to finally put an end to the cruel king's reign.
Levering himself back upright as the sky began to darken, the sun slowly lowering itself below the tree line, Shirosaki pushed away from the tree he'd sat against for most of the evening. Arm wrapped around his aching ribcage, the shaman headed toward the cave he'd been dragged from, his pace slow but steady. He had things to do, a tribe to hopefully save, even if it meant his own death when the last of the souls within him returned to the earth.
Back at the castle, Grimmjow snarled an almost desperate sound as he dispatched of another guard. Around him, a circle of dead and dying men lay bleeding upon the floor. Further away, Ulquiorra had fallen still, unseeing eyes open and looking just as dull and dead as they always had. Not far from the dead knight's side, Aizen panted in weak, wet gasps as he shivered, more of his blood on the floor around him than in his body.
Grimmjow jerked his sword from the guard's chest, the blade weighted by exhaustion and feeling nearly too heavy. But the knight, now a traitor, didn't shove it back in it's sheath as he turned on his heel and fled the room. He rounded a bend in the hall, going in the opposite direction of the main exit. He could hear someone shouting orders, which meant guards blocked his escape, trapping him within the castle walls, and he couldn't afford that kind of fight at the moment. He needed to rest and recuperate. He'd have to hide within the castle.
Stumbling against a wall in his haste and fatigue, Grimmjow headed deeper into the castle's underbelly. He chose rarely used corridors, ones that still had earthen floors and wooden beams along the walls. It would be days before someone managed to corner him before he could kill them.
Outside the castle's walls, the village was in shock. An unknown man, rumored to be a monster and a magic wielder, had killed their king and his two best knights, leaving the kingdom leaderless, before he was finally caught. Or perhaps the creature had only wounded them? Maybe it had escaped after all? Or now sat on the throne, taking over their kingdom and appointing itself ruler. The stories spread like wildfire, and just like fire, they were wild and out of control and most of them were completely ridiculous.
The advisors that had worked under Aizen did their best to keep panic to a minimum, claiming all was under control and the chaos would soon be over. Though they'd been working under Lord Aizen, they'd been working for the kingdom; for the betterment of the people they helped to rule over.
Finally, nearly three full days after the murder of the king and the escape of a powerful prisoner, Grimmjow, once a high standing knight under the late lord, was found.
He'd treated the few wounds he'd taken as best he could, but that was limited due to not being a healer or having access to needed materials. Still, Grimmjow was trained as a knight and fierce beyond imagine. But the man that finally found him wasn't a guard, nor even trained in the art of battle.
Exhaustion had finally pulled him under the veil of a light sleep. It had been a rude interruption, to say the least, when he'd been startled from his dazed sleep by foot steps and a shouting voice. Thinking himself under attack again, the once-knight jerked into a defensive crouch, his sword held at the ready, only to find a single man facing him. He carried no weapon, not a sword, not a bow, not even a dagger from what Grimmjow could see.
Slowly, the big man straightened to his full height and away from the dank wall he'd been leaning against. He lowered his sword, but still held it ready as he stared down the man.
"Sir!" One of Aizen's advisors had finally managed to track down Grimmjow, but it wasn't the once-knight's death he sought. "I seek word with you, Sir, nothing more."
Blue eyes narrowed before scanning the rest of his surroundings, searching out anyone else who may have been with the advisor. He wasn't naive enough to think he hadn't become a wanted man, not after aiding in the murder of the king and the escape of a prisoner, but still he'd stayed at the castle. Even when Shirosaki had given the knight the chance to accompany him, to leave the castle and it's walls behind. But Grimmjow would not run from what he'd done, though nor would he accept punishment willingly. It seemed the shaman may have worn off on him a bit.
Finally, Grimmjow's vivid blue eyes turned back to the lone advisor as the man stood quietly and patiently in wait. He gave a single nod, indicating that he would hear the man out.
"Thank you, Sir." The man bowed slightly and Grimmjow thought it strange he was still being accorded with his status as knight. "As you surely know, Lord Aizen had no heirs..."
Grimmjow arched a brow, looking down at the man. "Yes, I'm aware of this." He said in a rough, thunderstorm worthy voice.
"Of course, Sir...well, Aizen's named heir was Sir Cifer..."
"Ulquiorra is dead." Grimmjow said in a low tone, once more casting a wary gaze around the surrounding corridors. Nothing but empty hallway yawned back at him on either side. Then his blue brows furrowed further and his head tilted slightly as he slowly pulled his gaze back to the advisor.
"Yes, Sir, and that leaves you the most powerful man in the kingdom," The advisor lowered himself to one knee before the blue haired once-knight turned king, head bent. "My Lord."
Thoughts?
There will be one more part to this little story, an epilogue of sorts~ I have absolutely no idea how long it will end up being, but don't expect it to be quite so long as these first two chapters~