by JK Ensley
He fell to his knees in front of her, grabbing her hands. “Apologies, Lass. My tongue moved with nae thought. Ye know I love ye true, naethin’ can ever change that. If ye were tae pierce my heart with a seraph blade, I’d beg for one last kiss before sweet death claimed me. Shock alone is tae blame for my words. Dunnae hold me tae them,” he begged. “In truth, I’ve suspected almost this same revelation for quite some time now. How else could a creature as enchanting an’ magical as ye come tae be? Let this treasured gift serve as but a token of my captive heart,” Vittorio said as he withdrew a small black pouch bound with a silver ribbon, and held it up before her.
He gave a slight tug to one end of the ribbon. “I present to ye… magic, Milady,” he whispered as the velvety cloth fell away.
He waited for the moment he dreamed of, the moment he could watch the spark ignite in her beautiful ethereal eyes. That was his ultimate reward. It was the reason he always extended his summonses, risking his very life countless times, acquiring the rarest treasures hidden within every realm. He would sacrifice everything… just to see her smile. He lived for those moments. And she never disappointed him. As he watched, her eyes went wide. Vittorio could actually see happiness dancing within their pink glow.
An’ now, I am whole once more, he thought.
She hesitantly reached out, barely touching one fingertip to the dazzling treasure this glorious Guardian held only for her.
“Magic? It’s truly beautiful, but does it hold real magic? Truly?”
She beamed and stole his heart anew. He loved her smile above all things in the universe, especially when he was the blessed one to place it upon her lovely face.
“Aye, that it does, Lass. I retrieved this armband from a rather nasty wee Fairy Queen. Her whole court was in turmoil. It seems her loyal subjects had somehow gotten the idea tae overthrow her royal throne. I was summonsed to intervene. An’ nae on her behalf.” He narrowed his eyes and moved closer to her. “I cannae imagine where a wingless Fairy courtier came up with such an outlandish idea… as tae uncrown his reigning Queen.”
Jenevier laughed. Her cheeks flushed at his insinuation. “Do you spend half your time on layer one?” She whimsically shrugged her shoulders. “I told that little Fairy you were a terrifying Death Angel. He almost cried.”
“Aye, did ye now?” Vittorio chuckled. “Little did he know, poor dolt, the terrifying Death Angel was the beauty he was breaking words with.”
He winked and she giggled.
“So, what does it do?”
Her impatient question came while Vittorio was still placing it upon her arm. He carefully wrapped the silver vine around her bicep seven times exactly. The heart shaped sapphire pointed up to her shoulder. And dangling from the bottom tip of the last coil was a diamond teardrop.
“Aye, it looks as breathtaking upon yer lovely arm as I knew it would.” He stepped back, admiring her. “Now, wee Princess, with this enchanted bauble… ye can bind.”
“Bind?”
“Aye, Lass, bind. With but a word, ye can bind any living creature. Bind them from action or send them intae battle. Bind their mind. Bind their heart. Bind them tae ye, or bind them tae another. With this, ye can change their course an’ alter their destiny, if ye so wish.”
“But… how can this be?” She gasped. “How can such a thing even exist? It must not be real. It can’t be. If a wicked soul possessed such a treasure as this, they could bind loving hearts and innocent souls to the darkness.”
“Yes, they could,” Varick said. “And since it’s magic, the afflicted person would be none the wiser for their plight.”
“Aye, an’ this would all be true… save for one glorious wee twist. It must be gifted. It cannae be owned, stolen, or even possessed. The magic remains dormant until such a time as this, my most beautiful of Angels.” He smiled. “Ye dinnae take this magic. Ye received it willingly, as a gift. It’s now bound tae ye an’ ye alone. It’ll heed only untae ye. Speak what ye will an’ see it done. What ye bind with yer words will remain bound until such time as ye choose tae unbind as ye see fit. The magic wouldnae work for the Fairy Queen because she stole the trinket. Stole it from the Yellow Witch—its owner for centuries.”
“But… why did she choose not to use the magic it held?” Jenevier asked. “And how could it be taken from a witch?”
“The Yellow Witch couldnae wield it any more than could the Fairy Queen. She came by it through much the same method an’ the magic wouldnae listen tae her. This rare treasure must be given freely an’ oot of love. Aye, an’ that’s proven tae be the biggest problem with such an exquisite bauble. It owns the wearer. Same as the wearer owns it. It calls tae ye, loves ye. An’ ye cannae bear tae part with it once ye’ve worn it. An’ so, this great magic has lain dormant for countless centuries for nae one could dare gift it in love tae another. I took nae chances, Milady. I placed it within this Elven pouch an’ touched it nae. I wanted nae such temptation.”
She laughed softly. “You believe it could tempt such a heart as yours?”
“Aye, holding the bag alone an’ nae even touching the treasure within, I had wicked dreams. Ones I will confess tae ye now. I imagined wearing it an’ binding yer heart only tae me for all time an’ eternity. It called oot tae me even though it hadnae been gifted me. Yet, I knew in the depths of my soul, I couldnae cage ye so. Even if the rare magic happened tae work for me, I couldnae bind ye, Princess.”
He kissed her forehead and rested his upon the place his lips had just warmed.
“This is too much,” she whispered. “How could I ever be worthy of such a gift? I don’t deserve it, Vittorio, especially from you. Time and again I have torn your pure heart from chest. How is it you stand before me now, whole and loving on my behalf?”
“Nae, it was I who rended my own heart from chest an’ offered it tae ye freely. It was naether my place nae my right tae do so. If my heart was damaged, it was by my own hand. This gift, my love, has naethin’ tae do with my selfish heart. It’s but a small token toward a debt I wulnae be able tae repay.” His tears dripped down, leaving tiny little darkened circles upon her dress. “Gratitude, for my life, Milady. An’ for making it worth the living,” he whispered.
“I love you.” She sniffed and wiped at her coming tears.
“Aye, an’ I love ye more, wee Angel.” He caught her stray tear with his bent finger.
They remained like that for a long while. Warrior of legend and his fated Princess—bonded through bloodshed, bonded through trials, and bonded through trust. They didn’t wish to part for they needed each other in a way that went without saying… without explanation.
“The two things she treasures most in her heart have come to her by your hand, Brother,” Varick said. “The first remains a secret to me. And I am envious of the second.”
Vittorio didn’t move. “Aye, the first will always remain our secret.” He winked at her. “An’ the second wulnae part from her arm. I may nae own this beautiful woman’s heart, but I know it like nae other. We’re the same, she an’ I.”
He was still on his knees holding Jenevier’s hand, adoring the woman before him, when Varick next spoke.
“I am jealous. It seems you know her as I never will. You share a bond with her I can never touch. And you hold secrets together I will never partake in. I am truly jealous.”
“Aye, ye speak true, Brother. Yet in all these things, yer the warrior who holds her heart. An’ that’s the one thing I cannae partake in.” He gently squeezed her hands. “When first I entered this door an’ beheld yer manacle once again upon her lovely finger, my heart ceased its beating an’ I died a wee bit inside.” He wiped another one of her tears. “Yet yer radiant smile revived me once more, Milady,” he whispered. “I’m the one who’s truly jealous, Brother.”
Vittorio was right. Varick was the one who bathed her that night. Varick was the one who dressed her and massaged her with rose-scented lotions. Varick was the one who made gentle love to her and held her as she s
lept. And Varick was the one holding her hand the next morning as she made her way through the lovely forest of Vanahirdem.
Yes, Varick was the one who owned her heart. He was the one blessed with gazing upon her angelic face each morning.
And that same mighty warrior… was the last one to see her loving smile.
Chapter 13
Mikage
(mah-KAH-jee)
Apollyon was overseeing the torture of a newly-cast-down soul when a faint giggle pierced his heart.
He flew to the sealed portal, pressing his weight upon it. It’d been too long since he’d been blessed with hearing her sweet voice.
“Is this part of my punishment?” He yelled into the smoky darkness. “That I should be able to hear her enchanting voice, be tormented by her glorious laughter… while she remains forever out of my reach? Why not remove her from me completely? Is my eternal banishment to hell not punishment enough for my rebellion?”
Apollyon knew the answer to his questions, but he couldn’t help but cry out in pain. He drew her picture from the pouch, gazing upon it as he listened to her and that damnable Guardian of hers exchange words of their undying love, their recent bonding, and their never-ending romance.
The cast-out Dark Angel, Prince of Hell, fell to his knees and prayed. He hadn’t clasped his hands toward God for so many centuries, he couldn’t even recall.
“Father, I know You can hear me. I beg You, heed me.” Tears streaked his face. “I wish for nothingness, sweet, blessed nothingness. Cease my existence now. Let not a single particle of my black soul remain upon any plane or upon any layer. Just… cease me.”
*****
“Vittorio has, once again, outdone us all, my Princess. That precious jewel looks even lovelier on you in the sunlight, and the sapphire makes your curl all the more radiant.” Varick gently wrapped her blue curl around his thin finger and kissed it. “You are blessed at every turn.” He squeezed her hand. “How fares the babe this morn?”
“He’s rather talkative, actually.” Jenevier laughed softly. “There are several summonses coming down today and Vareilious had fair company again this past night.”
“You’re positively radiant today, beautiful lady. I fall in love with you anew upon waking.” He smiled as he kissed her glowing cheek.
She winked at him and playfully bumped his hard stomach with her shoulder. “You flatter… please… don’t stop.”
“The wood lilies are finally in bloom,” he mused.
“Oh, Varick, I must pick some for our room. The smell makes me feel young again.”
He laughed. “The smell?”
“Oh, yes. They smell so clean and fresh, just like brand new, or the way the air tastes after a cool summer rain.”
She tried to bend and pick one, but her swollen belly wouldn’t permit the action. Varick chuckled at her clumsily vain attempt.
“Here, my love, let me. You sit on the stone, there.” He motioned with his head. “I’ll bring you a large bouquet. I shall fill our room with them so you may feel forever young and fresh.”
He handed her the small bunch she’d tried to pick, leaving her with a handful of flowers and a warm kiss upon her cheek.
“Do you need help getting to your throne, Milady? Don’t push yourself.”
“No, my Prince. I believe I can make it that far by myself. Yet I wouldn’t object to something more than a peck upon my cheek.”
He had already turned from her when he caught the flirtatious tone in her voice. Jenevier heard the growl start deep within his chest only a second before his strong arms were around her.
“One day soon, my Angel, I will make sweet love to you beneath these ancient trees. I dream of it nightly. I am desperate from want of you. I can scarce comprehend our reality. You are mine, as you were always meant to be. I wish for nothing more than to see that lovely angelic glow upon your cheeks as my child grows within you as well. They will be cherished above all creation. We’ll protect them always, never will they know harm. They’ll be blessed with witnessing daily what eternal love truly looks like. I lose my breath when I think upon our future, Milady.” He gently touched her cheek and played with her azure curl.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
Varick kissed her forehead and then each eyelid. Her knees went weak. His lips brushed across hers, pulling a tiny moan from her quivering voice. He kissed her deeper. This magical kiss lasted until she could no longer stand on her own. When at last he released her lips, he placed his forehead against hers and held her trembling form.
His words were a heavy whisper. “My heart has belonged to you since before I was born. I was created for no other purpose than to protect you, care for you, and love only you. My existence will cease only at the end of all things, or while protecting you and our son. That’s the reason I draw breath within me. Never hold fear in your heart concerning me, Jenevier. God made me for one reason, to ensure your life. I will never leave your side. This I vow. Will you grant me the greatest honor of my existence and be my one and only noble Anicee for all eternity?”
“That wish has already been granted, Milord. And the honor is all mine. I’d be nothing without you. Nay, I would no longer draw breath. Love is too poor a word to describe my feelings for you. I know not why I was created, Prince Varick, unless it was to serve you and be your humble wife. Would you be so gracious as to be my noble husband and eternal mate?”
He couldn’t hold back his radiant smile. “I have wished for nothing else.”
“Then we are of like-mind, valiant warrior.”
Varick kissed her once more before turning back to gather her coveted blooms. Jenevier made her way to the smooth stone that would serve as her much needed resting place.
“Shall I pick them all, my love?”
Varick spoke as he looked toward the Angel who owned his heart. Jenevier was but a couple steps from the stone when she smiled at him, opened her mouth to answer… and vanished.
“You may leave only a few.” She laughed, and then froze.
All about her, as far as the eye could see, was wave upon wave of fragrant lavender.
Jinn, she thought.
“Leave only a few what, pray tell?”
She slowly turned toward the stone that had been her intended seat. Upon it sat a curious man with snow white hair and eyes the color of the flowing field she now stood in the midst of. She couldn’t speak. Her tongue was frozen yet her mind raced.
“If you wish for flowers, they grow in abundance at your pampered feet, Milady.” His laughter was cold and menacing. “Yet I won’t be picking them for you.”
Words escaped her.
“If you leave your mouth hanging open like that, a bug’s gonna fly in.” He stared intently at her face. “I’ve never seen a real Angel before. And now one stands before me, mouth agape and wings clipped.”
“Wh-who are you?”
“I-I am Mikage Abe and y-you are Princess Jenevier,” he mocked.
“How did I come to be here? What’s the meaning of this?”
“You’re here because I brought you here.” He hopped down from his stone perch. “As for the meaning of it all, you’ll have to save that question for the Emperor. I’ve done what was commanded of me.” He dusted off his hands. “Now, if you wish to keep that pretty little head upon your shoulders, you’ll do as you’re told.” He took one step toward her. “A sharp tongue will not serve you well here, Milady. You may be immortal, yet I’m fairly certain your tongue won’t grow back.” He narrowed his eyes as he finished his threat. “Mind it, or lose it.”
A sneer turned up the corners of the old wizard’s mouth as he took another step towards her.
Without the thought being truly formed within her mind, Jenevier held up her left arm—open palm facing the stranger.
“I bind you, Mikage Abe. Bind you from doing harm unto me by your hands or your words.”
The man stopped instantly. She could tell he was taking a mental inventory of the effects of her spell
. When the realization came, his lavender eyes shot back to hers. He growled as if he were a beast.
“Do they name you Angel, or witch?” he roared. “You do not boast such power!”
“Raise a hand to me and prove me liar.” She spat her words at the enraged Shinobi.
Mikage couldn’t manage a single step more in her direction. She could not only see the hate within his eyes, she could feel the force of it emanating from the man.
She matched his piercing glare. “Now, tell me. How is it you know what powers I boast and what powers I do not?”
He tried to reach for her throat, his mind was screaming the command but his arms refused to comply. A force, greater than magic, held him firmly in place.
“Suit yourself, Angel. Birth your demon here within this field for all I care.”
“Answer me, you old white devil. How do you come by knowledge of me, my power, and my child?”
“You bound me from harming you. You cannot bind me to help you, Witch,” he hissed. “I’ll tell you nothing.”
A knowing smirk played at the corners of her mouth. “Oh, but I can—bind you to help me, that is.”
Mikage’s eyes widened.
“Yet I will not. I couldn’t stand to daily look upon your treacherous face. The benefits could never outweigh the horror of it, I’m afraid.” She peered into him, inside his essence. “I see you have killed… killed your lover, no less. Not once, but twice. My, my… You are a wicked old snake to be sure. No, I wish never to see you again. I’ll not bind you to me.”
Jenevier felt the panic rising within him; it ebbed slowly away with her words. She could still taste his hate wafting on the gentle breeze moving gracefully around them.
“Hate is an especially hard emotion to control, Mikage.” She wasn’t done taunting him. “Was it your fierce, uncontrollable rage that forced you to abandon your own kind and live as a hermit?”
