Warm Ice

The sound of skin hitting skin rung throughout the deserted courtyard, but the accompanying scream was even louder.

            On a leisurely walk through the gardens, a young man paused at the unexpected noise. As he lifted his head to pinpoint its source, the light of the waning moon illuminated the sharp lines of his chin and jaw. They were the lines of a born and bred warrior.

            When he could not find anything suspicious he began to continue on his way. An azalea bush rustled ahead and his blue eyes narrowed. With a silent grace, he crept up to the bush, parted the branches and crouched down to see a disturbing scene unfold before him.

            “Did I stutter?” a furious male voice snarled.

            A man, cloaked in darkness hovered over a sobbing young girl who was only just rising to a sitting position. Her cheek glowed pink in a sliver of moonlight.

            She replied to the angry question with merely a whimper and the man lunged forward and yanked her to her knees by her long dark hair.

            “Eh? What was that? I couldn’t hear you,” he leaned forward, until his lips brushed the girl’s ear.

            Her sobs broke down into quick gasps. With a growl of disgust, he released her hair and she collapsed back onto the damp grass.

            Frown his hiding spot, the young man’s intelligent gaze observed every minute detail as the exchange continued. What was going on exactly? He was determined to solve the riddle.

            With his victim too distraught to answer, the man had begun pacing. But, finally he turned around and took a menacing step towards the girl.

            “You know where it is! Tell me!”

            “I- I have no idea what you’re talking about!” she protested through her tears. “P-please… j-just let me go!”

            “Where is the necklace?!” The man’s hand disappeared inside his coat and a smirk crawled to his face. “If you won’t spill then you’re useless to me-!”

            There was a glint of metal as he withdrew a handgun and the smirk spread into a grin.

            He pulled the trigger the same time the girl screamed and a gust of wind blew through the courtyard gardens.

            The explosive gunshot continued to echo through the night, but when the confusion had ceased no blood had been spilled.

            Eyes widening, the man looked down to see a drawn sword pressed against the gun and as he watched, the blade continued its swing, slicing easily through the gun’s barrel.

            Its metal remnants fell from the man’s slack grip with a soft thud.

            “Wha-?” he stuttered and tried to back away once his weapon was rendered useless.

            The young man immediately straightened from his crouch, but only to point the tip of his sword at the cloaked man’s throat.

            His blue eyes appraised the man’s face without a shred of mercy and his lips curved into a mirthless smile. “Not so old-fashioned are we?”

            He flicked his sword in the direction of the destroyed handgun.

            “P-please! Don’t kill me-!”

            The young man’s voice cut through the plea like a freezing knife, cold and deadly, “Why? You say I should spare you like you were going to with this girl?”

            With the sword bearing closer, the man glanced fearfully at the young girl, still sprawled upon the grass. She was now watching the exchange with uncertainty in her eyes, tears stopped, but unable to see if the danger was truly over.

            His trembling gaze returned to the young man, “I was only acting on someone else’s orders! I swear-!”

            A wave of unyielding steel passed clean through the man’s neck and his begging was cut off with a gurgle. His head toppled to the ground, twitched once, and then was still.

            As casually as if he had just finished beheading fish for dinner, the young man flicked the remaining blood from his sword and slid it back into an ornate sheath at his hip with a satisfied chink. He gave the man’s felled body a cursory glance, before turning toward where the girl was.

            Or had been. He stepped back in surprise as someone leaped into him and slender arms encircled his waist.
            He nearly drew his sword until he heard the soft sobs and looked down to see a head of long dark hair.

            “T-thank you, sir!” she cried and stared up at him, wearing a small smile.

            He smiled back, but without the malice that had been directed at her attacker, “For what?”

            Her eyebrows furrowed, but she didn’t end her embrace.

            “For saving me!”

            “Ah, well…” he scratched the back of his head in an embarrassed fashion. “It’s all right. You’re safe now…”

            The man suddenly stiffened and his eyes widened for a mere second. The following movements were too fast to see, but when they were over…

            Both young man and girl glanced downwards. Blood steadily dripped from where the man had caught the blade of a dagger in his hand before it would have lodged in his stomach, its silver hilt held by the girl.

            She pulled back her hand in revulsion, whether at the man’s blood or her failure to kill him it was hard to tell.

            “Why did you save me?!” she demanded. “You had no idea who I was, yet you risked your own life-!”

            The man’s breathing was coming in short gasps and she hesitated. He held his hand pressed to his left side, where crimson was now blossoming through his vest. He had avoided death by ensnaring the dagger, but he hadn’t escaped unscathed.

            He coughed, but forced a smile, “It’s a curse…” A line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “When I see someone in trouble… I can’t stop myself from trying to help them…”

            Unable to speak, the girl stood paralyzed with shock as the young man sunk to his knees, his blood staining his hand and the very atmosphere of the garden.

            Yet as he crouched there, betrayed by the very one he’d saved, he stared up at the night sky and the waning moon before glancing at the young girl. He ensnared her eyes in his blue ones and for a moment her heart stopped.

            Because those eyes weren’t possible- a sight she could’ve never predicted to see.

            In all their iciness was real warmth.

            Who would have thought there was such a thing as warm ice?

           A.N: A character of mine who I wanted to explore more in-depth and who also happened to be an idiot. Oh well... It also fit a couple of the items for the biweekly prompt. And even if you ask who the 'young man' is, I won't tell you. ;)