it started in the simplest of ways, with an itching in the back oh his neck which irked him and did not have any intention to leave, not even if he kept scratching it. His features turned into a grimace as he stopped in the middle of the street, trying to understand what was paining him so much. Hadn’t the weather so cold, he would have taken his coat off and see if it was that one to cause that terrible itching, but he was not willing to let himself freeze to death yet. All he did was to move to the nearest building and lean against it with a sigh, nails scratching his skin to bring him peace again. How ANNOYING. He had kept his gaze low till that moment to reach the troubling point better, and only in that moment id he loo up at the crowd again, glancing at it in mere curiosity. Later on, he would have wondered if he had met her anyway even if he had not seen her there. Who knew. It was better not to question certain events.
It was not a sound to strike him first, but a sight. The brief meeting of eyes as blue as the depths of the sea, as a clear sky, followed by short, blond hair let loos on her shoulders. It lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to paralyze him as if he had turned into an ice statue. He could have thought it was a vision, but when he turned in the direction that blond head was going he saw it again, as real as the ones around her. And he had run his fingers through those locks too many times not to recognize it. And then memories hit him like waves, memories of pain, shadows, blood, fire, a betrayed look on her face, her sword in his chest, darkness dropping from the wound like blood, last words he could not repeat ever again falling from his mouth before he dropped dead, dying like every villain should.
Her name had a foul taste in his mouth, different from the one it had had many and a-many years before. In him there was not a bit of love anymore only HATE because she was the one to kill him, to put an end to their story, unable to see he had done everything for HER only. He could spend hours questioning why she was there, when she had died and how much she remembered, but he had never been one to get lost in pondering for too long. Slowly, like a predator, he left the wall and followed her, making sure she would not hear him. The more he looked at her, the more he remembered, pictures from a distant past emerging like shells from the sea ( she dances, she burns, she is fire itself and he has never seen something as beautiful as her ); everything but affection came back. And when he bumped into her ( an accident, of course; why would you think ILL of him? ) the niceness and worry on his face were but a mask: he thought of crueler things, and all of them contemplated her body in a pool of blood.
( REVENGE, every port of his body was chanting )
“Ah, sorry! I didn’t pay attention while I was walking,” he said once she turned to him ( it really is her, he cannot be wrong ). A smile to ask for her forgiveness. “I hope you aren’t hurt?”
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