Looking down at her petite frame, her slender fingers clasp around his claws, her dress torn revealing her bosom heaving as she draws breath. A Fire lights inside of him, his fears dissipate, his resistance melts, but still he needs to say it. “Can you live with a monster like me?”
She blinks away tears, the flicker of the torch’s flame dancing in her glazed eyes.
Breathing in her scent, all fight in him dissipates, and on the exhale, he says, “Run away with me.”
Her gaze drops, her hand resting against his solid, silky smooth, hairy chest, opening her fingers to feel the pulse of his heart when she says, “I would do anything for you, but this I cannot.”
Chapter 6
Bleeding heart
Barely able to stand in the dark, dingy stairwell of the dungeon, Ashlan’s rejection has the power to tear Khan’s heart from his chest. And in his bestial heart, he would gladly let it bleed to death to save himself the pain of her disavowal. She is his destiny, but it seems that his destiny wants nothing to do with him.
Slowly uncoiling his arms from around her petite figure, numbness guards him against the coldness of the dungeon as his pelt starts to drawback. And with it, shivers rake over his body, the agony of his claws and bones breaking back into place as he returns to the small skinny little raven-headed prince he is, robbing him of breath.
Ashlan’s fingers reach out to him, “Khan,” she moves toward him, tears glistening in her azure eyes.
“Don’t,” he says, turning from her, shame and shyness coming over his naked form. Looking down at his human body, he should feel the elation at the fact that he appears humanlike once more - It’s all he’s wanted since coming back for Ashlan.
Elation is the furthest emotion, replaced by weakness and disgust. Because with Khan’s human form the revelation of the monstrous things he has done buckles his legs from under him. Naked, shivering, and in shame, he collapses to the bottom stair, refusing to look at the carnage he has left behind. Ill to his stomach he bows his head between his knees. Again, Ashlan attempts to go to him.
“I said, get away from me!” He senses her move toward him.
His voice the sound of rage, sorrow, and bitterness shaking at the very clammy walls.
Refusing to move, he looks up at her, staring into her eyes with utter remorse. Taking in the fear in her gaze; hatred for himself burrows deep into his already bleeding heart. Behind Ashlan, Khan glimpses Erik’s bloody mutilated body; gore taints the sandy stone with rancor and grief. Khan gets to his feet, uncaring of how exposed he is. Moving slowly around the scene, the prince kicks pieces of Erik’s broken staff- bow into the darkest corners. His chest quivering as he swallows back tears.
He walks a few steps and bends down to pick up a shred of Erik’s blue tunic. ‘I did this,’ is the revelation that takes him to ground. In a crouch he leans over Erik, his guilt-ridden tears shake at his chest, with a trembling hand, Khan reaches out to close Erik’s eyelids.
“Khan,” Ashlan’s voice is like velvet as she kneels beside him, her slender fingers trailing down his naked shoulder. He stares at her fingers, gooseflesh erupting in the wake of her touch.
“I need you to get up now.” her voice more forceful.
When he shakes his head, she explains. “Someone is coming.”
His eyes narrow on hers, the panic of being seen by his father’s Watch in his naked state pulls at his gut - giving rise to the beastly transformation as it threatens to take him over.
Realizing what’s about to happen, Ashlan slaps him across the face. “Get yourself together, you know what will happen if they find you like ...” Even though her tone holds affection, her eyes are blue fire.
Shrugging, he remarks, “You can’t say it, can you?” he breathes out, his eyes darkening in disgust. “Monster.” he breathes out. “They should kill me for what I have done to Erik.”
Ashlan leans over, his body igniting under her gliding hand. His gaze trails her touch with a strange pull in his stomach. Ashlan’s grasp wraps around his neck and draws him toward her and kisses him tender and slowly.
About to get lost in the mist of her soft lips and her jasmine-scented haze, she pulls back. “I have a plan.”
Footsteps and voices echo down the passageway, drifting down the stairwell.
“Erik.” Birger’s gruff voice calls out.
Ashlan responds quickly, sprinting over to Erik’s body. “We need help Birger, please! “The terror in her voice surprises Khan.
When he sees her pulling Erik’s trousers from his corpse, he gags. But the shuffle of boots and voices are coming closer, he has no time to regard how wrong this feels. He catches the trousers she throws at him, and just in time too.
Birger appears at the top stair as Khan slinks to the shadows to slip into the trousers.
“What are you doing down here? This section is forbidden,” Birger stops talking when he catches her Ashlan’s pale than usual complexion; a bruise forming on Ashlan’s cheek. His lustful gaze moves down to her torn dress at her bosom. Taking a few steps down with a lingering gaze, Birger remains unspoken until he sees Khan emerge from the shadows, a dangerously dark fire brewing behind his big blue eyes.
Swallowing under Khan’s scrutiny, Birger’s stare falls to Khan’s bare feet; then shoots over to the mutilated body of his fellow Chevalier Erik; shocking him into silence. His face is the one who drains of color now. Opening his mouth to speak, Ashlan quickly interrupts Birger.
“Erik,” Ahslan whimpers,” He tried to kill us, he… he...he was keeping Khan down here.” with a quiver in her voice she continues, “He wanted to overthrow our King by taking out our prince and murdering your future Queen.” His gait is heavy as he comes down the stairs, two of the King’s Watch follow him down.
Birger looks over his shoulder to his two fellow chevaliers, doubt shadowing his face as he turns back to inform Ashlan. “The king has informed us the prince was kill...”
Ashlan cuts him short one more time, “The king has been bewitched.”
Birger and the two watch burst out laughing, but the silence falls hard and quickly as they take in the scene.
In deep consideration, all three men walk towards Khan.
“How else would you explain any of this?” Ashlan says through a sob.
Birger is uncaring of her words, and signals with the tilt of his head to the Watch.
As they move in to apprehend Khan, Birger fixes his gaze on Erik, disbelief crossing his face at the mangled body. He stops the Watch with the quick swipe out of his arm.
“Who did this to Erik?” leering at Khan; all dirty, bruised, and free of cuts or any deep wounds. He’s finding it hard to believe this pale, skinny boy who has never attended any training... not even getting a chance to finish his thought, Khan steps forward. A special kind of smirk crossing his face that stops Birger’s train of thought.
“I had no choice,” Khan answers resolutely; not knowing where his sudden bravery has come from. But he is grateful for it none the less because suddenly the look on Birger’s face morphs from disbelieving to pride.
The King’s Watch is not so convinced, they see only law, and obedience to King Ivor.
“We need to apprehend him!” The one pipes up.
The other following up, “He did massacre Chevalier Erik, this is treason unto the kingdom!”
But Birger stands over Erik’s body, one thought haunts him - Khan is an asset.
Dawn had broken with the chill of the breeze, and the angry rumbling thunder as the gods mourn the loss of two Viking warriors. The threat of the big black beast has been removed, so it was safe to send out a retrieval unit into the dark forest for Audun’s body.
Erik and Audun’s corpses are wrapped up and placed in the funeral carriage for their three-day journey to the Great Lake. To Khan’s joy, that means the wedding has been postponed.
King Ivor and what remains of his Chevalier are wrapped up in fur and fueled by fury gathering the horses. Armed with sword, axe,
and wrath; they are all set for the long road past Oddsass, their last standing rival city. They’d have to near the border of their enemy tribe to get to the lake.
Birger calls to prince Khan hovering in the back of the band, “Your father has made me your guardian in the wake of Erik’s death. “Giving Khan a stern scowl and a grunt, Birger adds, “Should you fall behind, I will not hesitate to leave you to be devoured by the hungry creatures.”
Khan nods, fully aware of the brutal ways of Vikings. With a pang to his chest, Kahn recalls everything Erik had taught him of Viking customs, behaviors and approach.
Civilians crowd the streets, huddled together to protect them from the merciless wind. Raising torches, and throwing flowers as the carriages carrying the bodies and materials for the pyres pass.
When Khan tries to mount his designated horse, she kicks and snorts, blowing air through her nostrils. Attempting to climb her, the mare bucks and throws the prince to the cold stoned path. Laughter breaks out among the men and some of the onlookers. King Ivor blows the horn, and the group takes off.
Songs and prayers of goodwill erupt among the onlookers. Gates open with the heavy pull of thick chains; the sound of metal chiming thought the streets. Heads bow against the gust, furs swing over the warriors faces protecting themselves from the blast as the open gates allow the full force of the wind into the city.
Khan stands; forgiving the horse for not allowing him to ride her. He wouldn’t even allow a disgusting thing as himself near him either if he were her. Looking up to the balcony of the royal throne room, Ashlan is poised in a stunning velvet blue robe, waving. Red curls picked up by the breeze, whipped against dark skies and gray stone walls. Fire against ice. He does not wave back, his heart and pride shattered by her unwillingness to run away with the man she claims to love. She’d not given him any explanation as yet.
Bowing his head, his gaze taking in the leaving party, he gives her the time she needs - she’d been through an ordeal, almost losing her life; and bearing witness to her alleged love of her life transform into a beast with horns and claws as he violently killed a man. Granting her that, Khan goes on his way on foot after the horse too had rejected him. As he looks up, he realized the party is on the move already, and the Watch start to close the gates regardless of him being part of the departing group.
Musical chimes of the gate’s chains releasing the gate meet with the soft melodic prayers of the civilians bidding their farewell and good wishes unto their treacherous journey, giving Khan a shiver that moves his soul.
Khan runs the short distance on the cobbled path through the descending gate. As he ducks to exit, he hears the clatter of hooves echo down the trail as the people stop singing to make their back to their warm huts.
The gates close with a loud bang, giving Khan a slight fright. Somehow the metal hitting stone lends to the air of finality ghosting over him. The supernatural being inside him pulls at his gut, giving him warning - change is coming. The sound of hooves gets louder as Frigg comes up beside Khan.
The horse gives a soft neigh in greeting, bowing his forehead against the howling wind. Khan nestles his face deeper into the furs, whishing he had a beard like the rest of the Viking men to protect his face from the icy cold.
The prince is surprised Frigg is beside him and has not run away to catch up to the rest of the funeral party.
Almost over the draw-bridge, Khan peeks over the siding; iceberg cold water from the moat below pushes up mist, and a fine spray of water as the wind throws water against the stone-wall base of the castle. Reaching the other side, the frigid storm has left the grass and trees white with ice. The rising sun glinting off the frozen crystals like jewels.
Cobblestones turn to mud as the path narrows in through the wildflower fields. Near the edge of the forest fog veils the trail, and if not for the mud, there would have been no tracks for Khan and Frigg to follow.
Pursuing the wagon-wheel trail and the smell of horses, Khan keeps walking, giving his best efforts to keep up a good pace so they may not be left too far behind where wolves and other predators might seek them out. It’s not that prince Khan is afraid, he just hates the thought of having to kill again, even in self-defense.
Deeper into the woods, the mist thickens, the wind whirling around tree stumps in a wild flurry as big stinging drops pelt down from resentful skies. Walking side by side, for what feels like days, horse and man find themselves in the crux of a clearing. The rain has melted away most of the fog, giving Khan hope that the group has set up camp here. He knows the trek takes three full days to the Great Lake because he’d waited for his father for three long, grief-stricken days to return from his mother’s send-off. Khan recalls the hope he felt when his father had finally returned, hope that the send-off would have changed Ivor’s heart, causing him to realize all the King has left in the world is his son. Wishing his father would finally give him attention and mentorship. Instead of receiving tears of forgiveness, Khan was beaten and locked up in the tower with no food, no furs, and no words. Frigg’s neighing pulls him from his macabre memories, looking up he notices the remnants of stopover.
Disregarded bones of devoured animals, tusks of wild boar, and the smell of urine are the traces left behind by his people. He must have missed them by less than an hour, taking into account the flattened grassy surrounds and glowing coals. If he were not so hungry and tired, he’d keep going to make up for lost time. But something inside him prefers the isolation. The freedom from the judgment and cruel words that would no doubt be thrown his way. He scours around with Frigg, stomping and kicking at the debris for anything to eat.
Feeling hopeless and disappointed, the prince slumps down on a stooping tree stump, curved at an angle it is almost parallel to the ground. He thinks to himself how odd a tree this one seems among those that stand so tall and towering around him. Yet it’s the only tree which still has the colors of autumn leaves, and gives the best shelter from the drizzling skies.
The hunger pulls and cramps inside Khan’s stomach, dehydration stinging at his muscles with a headache forming behind his eyes. The grief, the shame and the guilt combined with the rage he feels for the curse which had left him a miserable beast - physically and emotion builds up in his chest, leaving him feeling signs of the pull of his beastly self, fighting to reveal itself.
A small part of him wants to fight it, push it deep down, or just lie here against the tree facing Frigg in irony. Dying against this beautiful tree, taking in the judging eyes of the horse that was owned by the man he had killed. That would be his penance.
Rain, wind and fog wrap around Frigg and Khan. The world blurs around the prince, his lips shivering. His fingers toes and nose frozen. At this point, Khan would gladly welcome the heat from the underworld right now.
About to fade, his senses come alive; the sound of something moving in the trees overpowers the sound of its little heartbeat. Sitting up straight, Khan sniffs the air, catching a whiff of a living creature not too far away.
Jumping to his feet, he unwraps his furs, disregards his boots and tunic. Throwing his belt and pants on top of the furs it should protect his clothes from the mud. Starvation coils in his stomach and explodes with the crushing of bones and the agony of his transformation.
In the cold, his exposed skin explodes into pelt, claws. His glowing eyes penetrate the fog. Using claws and paws; tail and wings, he soars into the trees giving hunt to his meal.
Frigg walks over to the tree and lies down on the furs and tunic, his hooves curling over the boots of Prince Khan, finding rest beneath the shelter. Frigg uses his teeth to pull the furs over his legs and falls asleep. He misses his master, acknowledging the anguish that leaves him feeling lifeless inside. Who will take care of him now? But somehow he finds rest in the presence of the person he should fear most of all. The boy who smells of beast.
The night falls hard, the wind settles, and the smell of something delicious wakens Frigg from his fuzzy haze of sleep. The rain has finally l
essened. Opening his eyes, Frigg’s lashes have frozen together. He snorts and hooves at his face until the icicles fall off. Before him, the horse sees a bunch of figs on the ground between the roots of the tree. His muzzle pushed at them, then he looks up to see a creature with a thick black tail, claws and glowing eyes. The thing appears to be smiling at him, its bright eyes shift from the fruits to him. Frigg kicks at the figs, and he turns his head as they roll away.
Khan says, “Come on, Frigg, you will die if you don’t eat something.” Khan bows his head, willing his transformation back to human form - but again he seems stuck in his griffin looking self.
Clearing his throat, Khan says to the sad-looking horse. “I know figs are sweet and delicious and good for you. It will give you energy.”
Frigg snorts, still not acknowledging Khan.
“You want to die? Is that it?”
Frigg bray’s with a low rumble from his chest, still cross-legged on Khan’s furs as if he’s taken residence there.
Khan’s tail slaps the mud with a loud noise. “Frigg do you want to see Erik to Valhalla; pay your respects?”
Frigg’s’ ears twitch, but still, he refused to eat. Frigg gets to stand slowly, his legs shaky. Khan’s heart swells with anguish and lashes out in anger. His claws rip through the air, and slices at the figs yelling “Stupid animal! I want to help you, you cretin!”
Frigg turns to the figs as their smell of the sliced fruit permeates the air. Seeing the beautiful pink flesh of the fig, the scent is now irresistible. The horse bends down and starts eating until he feels sick from the sweet juiciness and neighs at Khan, letting him know he’s ready to move from this wet forsaken forest.
Playing With Fire Page 15
