#predatorshipping week

There was once a queen who wished to be a mother so desperately that she took ill advice and made a deal with the good neighbors of the forest…

“For half a year, at night you shall fill a bowl of milk to bath under the moonlight and a drop of your and your husband’s blood from the wound of a rose thorn, on the following spring I shall grant you a child.”

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“EVERYONE REJOICE!!! FOR THE QUEEN HAS FINALLY BORNE A HEIR!!!”

There was commotion in the castle, the rulers had opened the doors and allowed the townsfolk to join the festivities, everyone was served generous amounts of food and an equal amount of mead, and it looked like the cheers would last well into the night.

How fortunate it was that the prince had been born on the same day as Spring started?

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“No…no… no… no… no…”  The queen dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face; how could this be? After the happiest month of her life, where she had nurtured and loved her child, where the child had been blessed by every person in the kingdom, where the King had showered them both of love.

The was gurgle coming from the crib, and slowly, very slowly the queen peaked into it, hoping that maybe the moonlight was playing tricks on her.

Purple eyes, with slit pupils fixated on her presence again, with sharpness that no baby ought to have, and with features more delicate and beautiful than any human she had seen… his skin was so pale that it almost glittered when bathed under the moon.

As if realizing her horror, the baby laughed.

This was not her child.

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It is always a sad day when a queen dies, specially leaving behind such a young child behind.

The bad tongues say that she jumped from the balcony of her chambers.

Before long, the king remarries and the child wins a stepmother.

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"Yuri, your tea is ready."

He turned from his place on the balcony to face the inevitable. The king was not in the castle, there was no falling star to wish upon, he had nothing now, nothing.

"Come here, my dear. Have some tea with me," said the queen. He simply stared at her, his stepmother. His eyes shifted to the small table in front of her, upon which a teapot and a cup sat innocently. "Do come and sit down. It is a special blend of mine. I made it especially for you."

He had been afraid of that. A ghost of a smile graced his lips. "How kind of you, mother."

"Good boy," the Queen cooed with false sweetness. He sat down before it. Boiled water and dried plant matter. It looked like any other tea.

It smelled like death.

"Now,” she said in a whisper. "Drink up, before it gets cold."

His finger passed slowly through the border of the cup and to the handle, he raised it to his lips and then stopped, he set his eyes on her, and If his stepmother had cared the slightest, she might have noted the sadness pouring from them, birthed from the pit of his stomach. She did not, of course. The queen just flinched when those eyes set on her.

"Is something wrong?"

"Why do you do this, mother?" He barely raised his voice.

"What are you saying, my boy?"

His eyes prickled and trembled, sometimes he looked at himself in the mirror, trying to see what everyone else feared so much about them.

"Is it my eyes, my hair, my skin? Or is it something else? There must be something I have done wrong, something I have done to make you all wish the worst for me. I can see it. You, father, my deceased mother, the nobles, the servants —all of you, when I have been naught but living—tell me, what did I do?"

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew those words were too articulated, too wise for a child his age.

"Whatever are you talking about, my dear? I merely want to serve you tea."

That was it, his final act of desperation. Yuri felt his breath leave him. So this was it, then...

It was not as if he had any other choice, he raised the cup to his lips.

And slowly, drank the poison to the last drop.

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“Why didn’t he die?!”

Yuri awoke to find himself laying into cold grass, covered in snow, somehow around the snow tiny buds of flowers where growing and rather than feeling cold, his skin felt warm, almost boiling.

The queen kept berating the servant, who was holding a shovel in his hand, hung his head in shame.

Shame for killing a child, ha.

Yuri felt something coil in his body when he remembered: the queen, his mother tried to poison him and then she was going to bury him in the gardens?

Both of them had their backs turned, and the snow helped to muffle the sounds of his steps…

He was going to return the favor to them…

His tongue licked his lips at the thought, and from that day onwards, something changed forever in his eyes.

.Ah, he understood now. He understood perfectly. Yes, that was how they had seen him all this time...very well! A monster they wanted, a monster he would be.

And as his laughter continued to ring out, as his would-be murderers torn to pieces at his feet, he did not realize that maybe, just maybe, it sounded like a child's sob.

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Years passed.

Seasons came and went.

He was fourteen years old now. A beautiful boy, but it was a terrible beauty. Like that one of a sleeping dragon with its luscious scales that might be beautiful before it opened its eyes. He had those awful, enticing and hungry eyes. They gleamed as if he was a predator cornering his prey. One could not meet them without recoiling.

When he smiled, his lips curled as though he was allowing a brief indulgence before smiting whatever was unlucky enough to cross his path.

Yuri cut a rose.

He was tending to his rose garden. It was located in a secluded area behind the castle near the woods, filled with large, luxuriant flowers.  And none could explain the strange ominous feeling that came over even as one was lured by their beauty. People would feel that the great sharp thorns elongated to cling to their sleeves, or that the flowers had a sinister resemblance to a throbbing heart.

Alluring yet repelling, much like him, actually.

"You will soon be of age," his father had said. "And it will be time for you to take a wife." Then the man had suggested that he start to court some of the noblewomen.

Yuri had barely resisted plunging his fork into the king's hand, and he might have imagined himself doing so, when he plucked another rose.

They were beyond help, especially in this cold winter and wouldn’t survive it, it was better to cut them now than let them wither in its stems.

He imagined presenting this rose to the average female in court.

"For you, my lady." The besotted female would take it with a blush, a giggle or two, maybe bat her eyelashes—to drop it immediately afterwards, perhaps in shock at the icy, blackened edges of the bulbous blossom, its decaying scent.

Ah, but his chosen lady, the woman that fulfilled his requirements, she would not, would she? She would lay it in her hand, unflinching, even as its petals spilled out between her fingers like the remnants of a dead heart or the seeds of a plush pomegranate.

Such magnificence, if it existed at all, did not belong beside him. It belonged in dreams, places he could not reach, and bitterly Yuri tossed the flower away, knowing that there was no happily ever after for a wicked child like him.

He must be very bored, for his thoughts to stray like that…

He stilled

Something moved at the edge of his vision. Yuri turned toward the woods, eyes narrowed.

A figure on horseback made its way the hidden road through the woods and by his garden. The courtiers knew not to intrude on his personal space. They usually stayed away from this direction, unless they were stupid, lost, or suicidal. Friend or foe, this visitor would have to have a good excuse or meet the business end of his shears.

He came out from behind his rosebush, and prepared to surprise the unwanted visitor.

"Good evening," said the visitor, and Yuri almost stumbled in his voice when he realized it was a woman, Yuri lowered his shears, intrigued.

"Good evening," he said back, biting on his tongue, no it was not just a woman, it was a girl, around his age most likely, she was wearing all leather and a thick cape made for winter, a long braid of hair rested on her shoulder.

"Can you tell me how to get to the front gate?" said the mysterious girl. "I'm not familiar with these grounds." She had gotten down from the horse and Yuri confirmed that she could not be much taller than himself either.

"You must have come from afar," Yuri said. ‘To not recognize who I am.’

"Well, me and my family have been traveling for some time. It's been long since I've been here."

The girl did not elaborate. Instead she appeared to look around her surroundings, which, other than the small rose garden, consisted of only the wild and unkempt shrubberies that typically marked the abandoned recesses of a land. She pointed to the roses. "Little weird to have a garden here, isn't it? Are you the gardener?"

He raised an eyebrow at the change of topic but said, "Yes."

"Why are you cutting them? Seems a waste." Her head tilted as she asked this, looking down on the roses, for a couple seconds Yuri saw a mist passing through her eyes, falling on the flower’s spell, but she shook her head and kept staring at him, waiting for an answer.

He twirled a rose between his fingers, to show her how much frost accumulated in the petals.

“They will die soon,” He was just sparing them of longer suffering.

“They could be saved if you put them in a vase with water though.” She said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Do you want them?” He asked incredulous, and she simply shrugged not really looking all that enthusiastic about it.

“You are a weird girl.” He said, feeling his mouth form a pout.

“I’m not the one doing gardening in the middle of winter.” She said and leaned towards him in an almost challenging pose.

In that moment, Yuri decided that he would make her realize why that was a bad idea and closed the distance between him and got far more into what was acceptable on personal space.

“Do you really not know who I am-” He whispered, but before he could even finish to his question when he felt something hard smash against his face, he heard – and she too probably – a crack on his nose, and he felt the blood coming out in gushes from his nose.

"You...dared...to hit me...!"

"YOU jumped me!”

"You're going to die,"he snarled, pressing his palm into his nosebleed and getting up. He was going to absolutely murder this girl! No one had managed to lay a hand on him for years—no one had dared—and—and—

He was not impressed, damn it!

 The worse thing is that he knew that the effect was ruined by the slight slurring of his words and the girl just watched him warily.

"Don't make me punch you again." She said, her eyes narrowing.

She picked the roses that he had dropped on the snow and held them in her hand, perusing over them as if they were a weird specimen.

In a way he supped they were.

When he finally felt the blood dry and he wiped himself clean as best as he could, he took the rose from her hand.

Only to place it on her hair.

“May I ask your name?”

“Serena.” No title or family name was granted, which was obvious considering what just happened.

He took a few steps back and he was marveled by how stunning she looked with his roses, almost as if they were made for her, to weave a crown of roses only for her.

In what was the most humiliating day of Yuri's life, he had been taken by surprise, punched, and threatened. A little slip of a girl had done more to him in less than an hour than most hired assassins could do in a whole night.

“It’s always a gallant knight who slays the dragon and saves the people.”

Like any other Academy soldier, Yuri is not allowed great variety on reading material, most of it consists on dueling books, about history, usages, types of summons and strategy… you name it; but entertainment reading, that is a huge no, and seen as a waste of time that could be used in studying.

Fairytales is the only exception to that rule.

Or maybe the exception that confirms the rule.

(It’s always good to have soldiers seeing themselves as the good guys, to give form and name to the dragon they ought to slay…)

Yuri doesn’t need to become a better duelist, he’s already the best around, so much he gets bored of dueling at times.

So, instead, he devours those silly stories, full of fire-breathing dragons, spiteful step-mothers, evil witches, stubborn royals to the point of stupidity, a helpless princess awaiting to be rescued, and the gallant hero who comes to her rescue.

At the end, they both live happily ever after.

(They ride off together into the sunset… to where? Do they stay together? Or maybe they part ways? Is not like the ending is ever more than a couple sentences long.)

The heroes are always brave people, defenders of the weak, dutiful, sometimes painfully naïve.

Yuri is not a hero.

If he was one, then people wouldn’t avoid him, because heroes are always popular with everyone, swaying people to their side, dashing even.

He’s too young to be a king or a parent, he can’t do magic so he can’t be a witch.

Did that make him the princess? Nobody ever paid attention to princesses, they were receivers of hatred and pity, she was always wandering around where she wasn’t called, getting into trouble which ended off in her demise.

Other than that, she did little than waiting for a hero to save her… if she was even awake for it anyway.

Princesses sometimes are born because of a magical deed (…Why can’t he remember having parents, or a home?)

Sometimes have some type of magical trinket. (Starve Venom lurks below the surface, annoyed at being called for something so dumb…)

They rule a kingdom and are many times spoiled rotten too. (Yuri reluctantly admits a part of him enjoys walking the Academy halls full of cowering figures before his feet.)

…Would he one day take a bite of a poisonous apple? Prick his finger on a cursed needle? Would he be kidnapped by a monster?

If he did, who would rescue him?

(It can’t be the one who reaches his hand out to him, for Yuri is certain he carries himself like a king.)

He learns from the professor that the dragons don’t wait around for the hero to show up, they call up their attention by taking away what they want the most; they don’t feel pain and have no feelings, they just take whatever they want because it caught their eye, if they get bored then they just break havoc among people…

Yuri learns that he’s better suited as a dragon.

-oOo-

She carries herself like a soldier should.

Despite her short stature and small complexion, she never acts as if anyone is ever above of her in anything else than isn’t height.

And this particular kid doesn’t even meet those requirements; if anything he looks shorter than her; his skin is a little too pale and smooth, she bets his hands are not even calloused.

Like her, he doesn’t wear a normal uniform – she’s too young the Professor says –  and when she takes a look at his eyes, they look vacant, dead, as if there’s nothing that can possibly bring him any joy or pride.

Truly pitiful.

…Then why is the Professor acknowledging him? Why does he pat his head and tells him he can be of use around here?

Her fist ball at his sides and she almost wants to stomp on the ground, until she remembers that is not proper behavior for a soldier.

The boy’s eyes shine when he hears the kind words of the Professor, basking in them.

And Serena swears to herself to duel him and win someday…

They day never comes, because afterwards she is confined to her room more and more hours, only allowed to get out for classes and medical testing.

There were times when from the corner of her eyes she would catch a glimpse of purple, but it was gone too fast.

Sometimes she swears that she sees a shadow –  small and thin like hers –  roaming around in the garden below her tower.

Weird presents find their way on her window: a duel disk; rare cards, a pin medal from a high ranked officer.

They tempt her. (You want these right? Come out, come out to play…)

Before she can trace a pattern, the gifts slow down to a halt, and so does the feeling of being observed; all coinciding with the time where more guards where posted around her living area.

Serena lied in her bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking.

“Father.” She said as she curtsied to him. “Why have you called me?”

Zarc looked at his daughter dressed in finery from head to toe – literally, since the heavy dress layers covered her feet – and almost wanted to shake his head in disapproval, but such behavior was not proper of an Emperor, at least not in the middle of his court.

It was also the only reason Serena allowed herself to be adorned to such excess, as if she was a doll.

She needed to play the part if the prim and perfect princess.

“It has come to my attention that you have yet to pick a suitor, despite the fact that you have since come of age.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth, yet, the sharp shine of betrayal in her eyes felt a thousand times worse.

Snickers were heard all over the room; delighting on the princess’ forced to behave as such; if it was up to Zarc he would behead all of them, but such thoughts came to a halt when she used her fan to hide her smirk.

“I have given deep thought to all of them, a suitor, must be suitable for me the First and Only Princess of this Empire, and I have found every single one of them lacking.” No one dared to contradict his and Ray’s daughter, no matter how much they wanted to and Zarc allowed himself to laugh.

“You are most right!” He continued to laugh for a couple of seconds before calming down. “As Emperor I would never deliver the hand of my only daughter, the jewel of the palace, to just anyone! Does anyone here disagree?”

Of course they did, but they couldn’t say anything out loud; if he concentrated, he might be able to hear them grinding their teeth.

“If his majesty agrees, then it only makes sense that I, as princess under your heavenly guidance, must be allowed to set the requirements for the perfect suitor.”

“Ah, I see, after all the one who marries my daughter will become my heir…” If it was up to him, Serena would be proclaimed the Crown Princess, but there was only so much both of them could push the court before they started to scheme. “…I can’t possibly take such matters lightly, and I cannot trust a better judgement than yours.”

Serena was quiet for several minutes, making the trepidation in the room to raise to almost tangible levels; If Zarc knew her, she had already come up with an idea and was only enjoying the control over the court she had at the moment, however limited.

“I will only marry the one who will bring me a blue rose.”

A pin could have dropped in the courtroom and made and echo, due to the aghast her answer provoked; some of their faces had even turned the same shade of blue the flower would be.

Blue roses, were taught by many to be a legend, very few had ever heard of it, even fewer heard the rumors of its existence, and even less knew of the remote place where the sky and earth met and a lake where all rivers were born.

Only its waters could nurture the mythical rose.

“Perfect, if they wish for your hand in marriage and my throne so badly, then, such request should laughable, let this decree be known across the empire!”

ᵜ

“It has been a very quiet week.” Her father said in her tea parlor; even though he left his cup untouched, instead he chowed down all the candies and tiny cakes.

“You sound almost bored.” She said as she moved her pieces in the board.

“Are you kidding me?” He said, flashing the brightest smile. “Finally some peace and quiet! I didn’t even remember how nice the palace was without those leeches abusing my hospitality and pushing me to force you into marriage; then they dared to suggest that if I didn’t want a new empress, then I could at least choose a concubine…. I was this close to execute them.” His fingers dug into the board while saying this.

There were very little things that would make her father truly furious, and suggesting he replace her mother or herself was the top one.

“As annoying as they are, their influence and money is very much needed,” Serena chewed on her rice cake a little too hard.

“Were you serious then?” He asked, looking at her for any shred of mischief. “What if one of them really does bring a blue rose?”

“Then I will make good of my promise.” Serena was sure everyone at the court thought her to be a spoiled and foolish princess for asking a pretty flower as a token of marriage; the rest surely thought that she was once more dodging her duties by setting an impossible task.

But if a man managed to be smart enough, resourceful and determined to fulfil her task, then there shouldn’t be a more appropriate person for the throne.

“Aw, and here you have me thinking that you chased them all off because you missed your old dad and wanted to be my little girl a bit longer.” How did he manage to go from a fearless ruler to pout like a child was beyond her.

Why had her mother chosen such a man anyway?

“Please, if I do not desire to share my life with young men, what makes you think I want the company of an older man?” She drank her tea when she finished saying this, just in time to see his expression going from pouting to crestfallen.

“Meanie.” He mumbled.

Serena allowed herself to smile behind her sleeve; her father was really such a foolish man.

ᵜ

The first one was a very known and very rich son of a nobleman who always stared greedily at the jewels and gold in the throne whenever he set foot in it.

The rose was pretty, but nothing much could be said about it; granted, Serena had nothing beyond aesthetic appreciation for flowers, but she was sure a blue rose must be magnificent or at least wondrous to look at.

She took the flower in her fingers, the stem was smooth, no tiny hairs or thorns.

Too pretty… She walked to where her servants had already deposited a vase of water for her flower.

To everyone horror, Serena turned the rose upside down and submerged it in the water, slowly, the water started to tint a pale color blue whereas the petals turned white again.

“Do you really think I will marry a man who uses deceit and bribery to achieve their means?”

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The second one was a warrior, he had not been present for Serena’s decree, but having heard of it, he had led campaigns to find the blue rose, ransacking town after town, and interrogating people left and right.

The rose presented was not a flower at all, its likeness to an actual rose was uncanny though, but it was hard and frozen to the touch she noticed that it was carved from a sapphire, its rightful owner was probably dead.

Serena didn’t even dare to touch it, and turned her eyes away from the man.

“… This is not a blue rose, a man who delivers such a lavish token must be as cold and unfeeling as the stone it was made from.”

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Surely the Princess must accept this blue rose.

It’s what they are all probably thinking as this third suitor – the son of a scholar – presented a glass box in which the most magnificent blue rose resided, the man was accompanied by an old man, which robes she recognized as being a medicine man; in a quiet voice he explained that such a rare flower must be encased for it’s very fragile outside its native environment.

How convenient it was that the glass was sealed, making it impossible to confirm his claim.

That was when a sunray shone in the middle of the throne room and Serena noticed that neither the box or the rose casted a shadow.

Serena took the box as if it was the most delicate of treasures.

And smashed it against the floor, tiny pieces of crystal spilled to her feet, but no blue rose was anywhere to be seen.

“You dare using an illusion to achieve your goal? A man who twists the lies into truths will never marry me.”

ᵜ

At night, Serena had slipped unnoticed from her room, wearing one of her servant’s dresses as to not call attention. She could not sleep, and the only thing that calmed her down, was watching the quiet waters of the pond and feeding the fishes.

“Maybe it really is an impossible task…” She whispered to no one.

In the still water, the full moon was reflected like an enormous ray of light… sometimes she liked to think that her mother was watching her from the moon, along with the rabbits and the moon goddess.

A strange fish that she had never seen disrupted the reflection and her thoughts; she threw food into the air and the fish jumped to catch it… as it turned out it was not a fish at all, but a sort of water snake, its color was a rare combination of golden and purple scales.

Odd, she would have to talk to the servants in the morning and see if they could catch it.

ᵜ

The fourth man was causing lots of whispers in the court.

He arrived covered almost completely in a cape that hid his features from anyone; the only reason the guards allowed him in, was because he assured them he came to claim the hand of the princess in marriage, that he had the blue rose in his possession.

When requested to prove his words, he claimed that the rose was for the princess eyes only and no one else. They all laughed, the captain probably thought it would be funny to watch this commoner make a fool of himself in front of the imperial family.

He didn’t acknowledge any of them as he passed through the gates.

This suitor had no lavish clothes, no entourage behind him, speaking of great possessions and power.

Before even seeing him, Serena feels her chest tighten in trepidation, something that she had not felt for any other suitor.

Why? Was it the unexpectedness? The whispers of the palace? The supposed low station of his person?

When her father took his seat, then she stepped up and waited for him.

His steps echoed loudly into the room, he was still clad into that cape, it didn’t look tattered or dirty, but it was nothing special either, the fabric was a dark color and it looked comfortable enough to walk around and warm for the cold of the night.

No one dared to speak as he knelt, first to the Emperor and then to the Princess and then he removed his hood.

A head full of purple hair met her eye, his head was still lowered and hiding his face but by the silky and healthy looking hair, she could deduce he was a young man.

“Greetings, your majesty, I have come to fulfil your request.” His voice sounded young too.

“Raise your head and state your name and precedence.” She ordered, feeling her palms sweat, unlike her other suitors, he exuded an air of confidence on meeting her requirement, but not of arrogance as if he was planning to deceive her like all the others.

“In my home, I’m called Yuri, I reside on the place where all the rivers are born.”

Serena said nor asked anything else, not even as the disbelieving looks of the court pressured her to question him further, she waited, signaling that it was time to prove his claim.

He rose to his feet and she could finally see him, his face and she was instantly drawn to his eyes, an even more vibrant shade of purple than his hair. The most entrancing part of his expression was his smile, as if he was private to a secret no one else shared.

From somewhere under his garments his hand fumbled and slowly, almost too slow, produced a blue rose.

Serena used her fan to hide her agape mouth; not because the rose was beyond perfect or magnificent like stories said they would be, she did what she had not done with any of the previous suitor and went down the steps that separate her from him, when she took the rose in her hand, even though she was careful not to not brush her hand against his in the slightest, she still felt a shiver due to their proximity.

The stem was rough to the touch, and if she could see a tiny spot of blood where one of its thorns had pierced her skin, the shade of blue of the petals mirrored that of her own hair and it spread evenly from the tip to the base in the calix of the flower.

She could hear everyone’s gasps when she lowered her fan, allowing the stranger to see her face up close, and when she brought the rose against her nose, she was assaulted by the memories of red hair, flowing in the wind as they led her through the halls of the palace, of the scent of jasmine of her clothes, and the feeling of joy and safety the smile of her mother brought to her.

This close she realized… his eyes, they were looking at her, the same way her father always used to look at her mother.

“This is a blue rose.”

ᵜ

When Serena could finally breath again, it was not a pleasant experience; she coughed the water she had swallowed before and her mouth tasted awful.

Her dress was drenched in water and it was now too heavy for her to even try to stand up.

Her father was screaming frantically for the servants to bring her dry clothes and for the doctor to check up on her.

Apparently she had made quite a ruckus when she slipped and feel into the pond, which wouldn’t be too bad if it wasn’t for the heavy clothes, becoming heavier under the water and the recently grown roots of the lotus flowers twisting around her body.

It was nothing short of a miracle that she was alive.

Before losing consciousness, Serena watched a kid on the bank of the pond, his eyes look too shiny in the middle of the night, his teeth look slightly sharp, and on the sides of his face his skin stops looking soft and turns into purple scales.

The same shade as his hair.