Scarlet Hands
Blood oozes sluggishly, painting the pavement crimson, slipping between pasted cracks. You would think that he would at least have the decency to not bleed so much.
Sky's orders are as keen as the Phantoblade he carries. However, I cannot simply tear my eyes away from the lacerated carcass tangled within the hedges. My gaze is paralyzed with a terrible realization, heart raging within my chest. The corset that hugs my torso grows insufferably tight.
Brandon is a trained killer.
What little color that remains drains from Stella's horrified visage. She acts quickly. Channeling her Winx, she becomes the very embodiment of the shining sun, but her approach misleads. Fear flaring in her eyes, she catches my arm, knuckles bleached and bloodless. No explicit mode registers within her tone. It is impassive, yet throbbing with meaning. "Winx, transform."
Brandon's stained Phantoblade is safely nestled in his holster, hidden by the folds of his cape. I pray that I do not have to see it speared through another body anytime soon. Not once has he glanced at Stella, noticeably upsetting her with his severe quiet. Blood darkens his and Sky's attire, blaring streaks in their hair, dried smudges on their faces. The blood is like warrior paint smeared across their bodies. It's a tad unsettling.
The men ostracize us girls from their discussion, conducted in low voices that are out of our reach. My father had barked at us Winx to leave the room when the two arrived, Royal Guards ushering us out of the generous grand foyer. We disobey, however, and remain opposite them. Oritel acknowledges the four of us, yet does not bother to waste energy on enforcing his authority. He is pale, a torrent of dire disbelief wavering in his eyes. Sky remains composed, standing tall against the trials of life, but I know him all too well. He is anxious, reassuring himself with slight glances in my direction every time my father speaks. His conscious is demented with fright.
Flora shifts on her feet, smoothing her skirt over with shaky hands.
Tecna sees this. The expression she offers, that of trepidation and sorrow, deepens.
Stella remains distant. If she possessed the power of laser vision, I swear Brandon would have a smoking hole through his skull. His gaze is fixed through a pane of glass, and I follow it. Royal Guards march below, dutifully scouting out the palace grounds. He starts to speak and my father's brows knit together in puzzlement at his words. He repeats himself, and this time, Oritel appears aggravated. Suddenly, Brandon acts as if struck, rounding on my father with a firm voice that booms through the hushed room.
"King Oritel, I consider myself more capable of protecting your daughter!"
There is an edge to his voice that I've never heard before. Stella winces.
My father's reply is dangerous and low. I barely catch it.
"Our customs differ from those of Eraklyon, Squire."
But I spot it, that dawning sensation of defeat infects my father's dominant poise. Brandon's words disarm him, and the sight makes me want to weep. Because now, I finally realize that Sky is truly right. I am not safe.
It is evening before Sky and I finally converse. The shock has finally faded. With security measures taken, the Winx Club prepares to depart for their own home planets. Sky and I look on from my bedroom balcony as Stella and Brandon cling together, swaying in each other's warmth by the palace's grand gates.
"It must be difficult for them," Sky muses, arms clasped around my waist from behind. I settle against him, savoring the sensation of his breath heating the side of my face.
Swallowing hard, I try my best to bite my tongue, but I can't allow any more blood to shed today. Trying to imagine how Stella must feel, I know what I'm about to say is selfish. My lips let my words run wild, "Any more difficult than it is for us?"
My skin grows cold.
Suddenly, his hands squeeze my hips, twisting my body around to face him before I can catch myself.
I force my eyes to meet his. There is puzzlement and hurt there. My heart is racing. For a moment, I forget how to breathe. I started to drown in my mistake, sputtering for air.
"Do you mean that, Bloom?" His words strike a dare, almost challenging me to lie to him.
"Well, they don't have to postpone a marriage!"
Those were the wrong words to say. He could be so intimidating, and I had struck a raw nerve. I yelp as his hands hold me more firmly.
"You know why we have to do that."
"Why, so we can be fair to everyone?" All of a sudden, I started gasping, throat burning while I tried to contain tears. "Sky… Sky, you're hurting me."
With wide eyes, his hands immediately pulled away from me. "Bloom… I… I didn't mean—"
I caught him around the wrist, "No. I still… want you to hold me."
After staring down the barrel of, what I later learned was forbidden in all but three civilized systems, the weapon of an assassin, something primal violated his eyes whenever he looked at me. Understandably, he was more protective than ever. Exactly what he came to warn me about had occurred. My parents almost lost another daughter. I was not safe within my own Kingdom.
"Sky…" I mumble into his chest. "All I want is to be with you."
His hands smooth over my back, fingers raking through the length of my hair. "You already are."
"I want to be with you tonight…" Slowly but surely, he backs me into the nearest stone wall. "Tomorrow… the next day… the rest of my life."
His body presses into mine. With his hot breath in the shell of my ear, I let his hands caress me. "You think I don't want that, too?"
Eventually halting his intimate intentions, Sky pulled back to look at me again. It takes me a moment to completely focus on what he's saying. "I realize that on Sparks, the handmaidens have other duties as opposed to those on Eraklyon."
Handmaidens? What the… "Why are we bringing up the Royal Maids?"
Chuckling lightly, he playfully fingers the taut binds of my corset, "A handmaiden on Eraklyon is a servant, one who helps her mistress dress, provides for meals, and also—" he gives a deliberate tug at the strings crossing up my back "—undresses her mistress in the evening."
"But that's no different than the handmaidens here." If anything, I picture handmaidens on Eraklyon being more laid back being the only difference. Otherwise, I have no idea what Sky is getting at.
"A handmaiden on Eraklyon is also a bodyguard. Someone to confide in, she must protect her mistress even at the cost of her own life."
"Oh." Comprehension suddenly dawns on me. "But I'm not a part of Eraklyon just yet, Sky. I don't have such a handmaiden to protect me."
Carefully stepping from me, he paced the balcony a few times. "I've considered a few options that would assure your safety, Bloom. In a hypothetical perspective, let's say Eraklyon defeats the Trade Federation… that I survive. Then, we could marry and rebuild. But if we marry now, you would have a handmaiden to protect you. But the threats you would have to face would be even more cutthroat than that assassin. If Eraklyon is invaded, the Trade Federation will hunt us down, Bloom." By now, his hands are clenched into fists. He doesn't give me the satisfaction of making eye contact. "A handmaiden on Eraklyon fulfils a role of that similar to a Squire. Both are trained to kill. I'm lucky to have Brandon. Not only as a Squire, but as my best friend. What happened today is simply in his line of duty. Even so, I feel like I'm forever in debt to him…"
"Sky?" Oh God. I know what this is about, now.
He stops pacing and turns to me, his gaze glazed and distant.
"Are Squires or handmaidens permitted to marry?"
"No." A slight, conspiratorial smirk paints his lips. "But royal propriety does not always prevent that."
Shame disembowels me. Looking over the balcony, Stella and Brandon cling to each other one final time before they depart. This embrace, I realize, is not simply out of passion. Stella's hold is desperate. Brandon tries to wrap her in with comfort, but even his body language screams in despair.
It must be difficult for them.
Sky is willing to stare down the teeth of death for me. In his eyes, I see devotion so intense, it can hardly be real. There is blood on his hands, stained scarlet from the assassin, just like the blood in me. Crusted crimson lies underneath his nails.
The sun is laughing as it sets, mocking me as it turns the sky red. Daylight is engulfed wholeheartedly. Everlasting night looms, but the nightmare has just begun.
A/N: If you're wondering, the remaining Specialists & Winx Club members that I have not gone in depth with or mentioned just yet will definitely come up. Thanks a bunch to those who reviewed! I appreciate it!