6. Moon.
TITLE: Moon.
AUTHOR: charan_amaya
FANDOM: Original
PAIRING/CHARACTER/GENERAL SERIES: Prince Rayden and Princess Leanne.
GENRE: General
PROMPT: Number 6. Moon.
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT:1314
SUMMARY: A moonlit night; a meeting in the garden.
WARNINGS: You might go 'aww', you might be like me and scream 'OMFG COME ON, DO THINGS'. Oh, slightly darker themes. Enough to not be for kiddos with the mentions of death and stuff.
NOTES: The last part is LAME.
DISCLAIMER: I own Leanne, some of the things in here, but the rest of the content is owned by of_elysia, aka Rayden's maker. I don't own him. I WISH..
Night was a time of peace, when the darkness smote all but a few rays of sunshine. It was one of those nights that when the moon arose; it was a welcoming, sweet calming light of the moon. Something that gently guided the way in the darkness without the cruel burning of the sun across the skin.
It was a night like this that Lord Rayden found himself standing in the gardens, glancing up at the moon. It captured his thoughts; reeled in memories. A cruel mistress, the moon was. She gave back things that he did not wish to keep. Hauntings of the past that should fade away always reappeared at times like these.
Yet, he didn't expect a visitor this night. Hours ago, he had bribed Lady Leanne to sleeping with a promise for negotiations to start the morrow. It had been a short time since the woman had arrived, but she was nothing but a permanently seeming vexation upon him.
The memories overtook his person. The screams, the anguish... betrayal and blood just floated across the eyes. It was as if he was seeing some of these events right before him once more.
This string of events was broken as the very 'thorn-in-the-side' lady, Leanne approached. He heard her gently little footsteps creep shyly to him. A candle placed in her hand; it glowed, warmth cascading.
It was a surprise she spoke first, and so tiredly: "...M'lord, what brings you out on such a cold night?"
"The ghosts... haunt me..." He muttered, a soft voice. It differed from the harsh tone he preferred to use when she was around.
A hand was upon his shoulder. He held no heart to push it away, even as she spoke.
"All ghosts fade away when it turns to day..."
Strangely poetic, he had to admit. "Not the ones of your memory..." Mentally he punctuates that with an insult.
He couldn't see her at the moment, and was unsure why she hesitated...
Then her sweet voice piqued! "...We all have our demons, sir..."
"I suppose so." He clearly didn't believe her. The Black Prince now turning toward the woman to take his leave. A brief pause as he gazed at the ridiculous creature. A night gown worn (for once), instead of some strange dress in a light shade. These white night-cloths made her look like a porcelain doll. Even more so, to say, than her usual garb did. The moonlight lit her skin, she glowed gently.
Perhaps the night suited her more than the day; or... or maybe light in general just made her glow. Whether or not it was the moon or the sun, she seemed to take the rays of light to make into her own. How queer.
With his hesitation over, he walked past her. Once again, as a time before, he found her hand grasping his own in some desperate attempt to have him stay. Such a troublesome woman.
Her plea was strange; shuddering. "P-please stay..." She actually begged of him. It seemed there was an edge of tears to her voice; a sadness. If he were not made of stone, her words would've brought him weakness.
"Why?" There was no surprise to his own words, he was curious.
"...When the moon... when it shines like this. I remember the day my mother was... when she was k-killed. The day I almost lost my own head." Her words came out in breaks. The fear creeping into her voice. He had judged her wrong then; she did have her own ghosts. Who knew?
He snorted. What a foolish girl. The black prince (aptly named) walked off toward the castle once again. "Fear instills great strength in people..." This was a comment more to himself than her.
Now the grip that grasped his wrist was surprising. A woman that delicate should not possess such a hold; one that seemed to be as if a demon was possessing him to that very spot. He stilled.
Annoyance crept up, he asked her quite calmly (rudely) to unhand him. She didn't yield like a proper woman would. No matter how much of a delicately little bird of a princess she acted; she still did not adhere to basic social standings of the day. Women were to obey men. They were to be seen and not hurt, that was all! Her defiance of these things had continued to stroke the nerves, and rattled the ghosts that were swimming around in his mind. Damn her!
She was an annoying brat! He was being made out to be such a babysitter for this... this child! Infuriating was one of the many words he could use to describe this woman and her actions!
There was some surprise as he felt the wetness of a tear hit his hand. Lids lowered to cover charcoal colored eyes, he gazed at the downward turned head of the princess. Perhaps just tonight, he'd let her get away with this... He was too tired from fighting his own demons after all. Rayden would keep her company. Just for a little while.
Leanne had some sort of strength within her when it was... in her ability. Her arms almost clamped around his slim form, thin arms latching to him like a lifeline. This of course put the man off; he attempted to pry the woman from him. A muffled sound did come from her. It couldn't be made out...
"You... strange thing. This is such behavior of a girl that is not of the princess stature..." He was chastising her, true. It was honesty, she was being rather inappropriate for her station. They were not even officially engaged, and here she was! Holding onto him like they were lovers or something foolish!
Now the reply he received was surprisingly witty, "My, I've never seen you behave like a proper prince. I would like to have an exception to my improper behaviors next to the grandeur of your own. Pardon me for having a weakness." My, so there was a spark of something other than niceness and tears.
A hand of her own reached up to wipe the right eye dry. The left refused to shed tears, oddly enough.
"I was a solider before I was a prince. That is how it is."
"I've never met a solider as rude as yourself. Pity... I can't imagine you another way."
"I doubt this." Naive little thing, wasn't she? She had obviously never encountered the women-starved creatures that were hardened from years on the battlefield. Even if she had, they were probably kept far away from touching the delicate flower that was this princess.
Her next act was possibly the most shocking of all thus-far. A hand was suddenly on his cheek, the contact was strange. It had been a long time since another had touched his face. A surprise that his scar was stroked by her thumb, silken skin rubbing against the unfeeling scar tissue. Also, the touch was upon the cooled flesh of his face. Eyes widened slightly, even before he had a chance to gaze on her face.
An expression that held something he didn't wish to recognize, her eyes partially closed, head tilted with this soft smile across pale pink petals for lips. Her words strange:
"Even if you are... very unconventional... You're still a perfect prince to me, Lord Rayden."
With that, the female ran off into the moonlit path that was toward the castle. The candle had landed upon the ground; extinguished.
Rayden watched her. It took a time after she left for a hand to go over where hers had been. "...Perfect prince...?" His words, different.
Then a curse muttered; a shake of the head. "Bothersome."
But to whom?.