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The Balladeer was known for being cold and unforgiving. Often just the name alone was enough to send chills down anyone’s spine.
“Find him, now!” The balladeer growls to the soldiers.
I hold my side subtly, not wanting anyone to notice.
The gash I had gotten a week ago was starting to become irritable. I knew the bandage that I had wrapped around myself was soaked with red. A deep crimson red, I could feel it. The red was cold against my skin and it was even colder in the winter breeze.
The Balladeer stands prominently in the snow capped landscape, his white coat ruffling in the wind.
“You, Greenie,” his eyes find mine.
Although spending countless nights together, he refused to say my name.
Names change like the wind. And to The Balladeer I was nothing more than Greenie or on occasion, Green.
I found it fair, for I had only ever had the privilege of calling him The Balladeer and not his birth name, so why should he use mine?
“Yes, my lord,” I responded, gulping down the spit that formed in my mouth.
“I don’t want you going with them, it’s too dangerous at this time of the night.”
“Do you underestimate me, my lord?”
His eyes respond for him, piercing into my membrane.
Those purples.
Those damn purples.
“Understood my lord.”
“Good, follow me.” He beckoned me with his hand and I moved my feet before my brain could digest.
I’m a sucker for those purples.
The Balladeer leads me to his quarters. He cocks his head to the side and beckons for me to enter first.
Despite having met him on many nights, this is my first time in his quarters.
The Balladeer closes the door quietly behind him and gently, ever so calm and monotonous he simply says,
“Show me.”
Dumbfounded I cock my head to the side and pout.
“Show you what? My lord?”
Tsk.
He clicks his tongue and crosses the room in two long strides.
“You keep holding your side. Show me.”
Oh.
“I haven’t-.”
“Green…” his voice deepens and with his right arm he reaches to my side.
His purples never leave my face. They’re drilling holes into my skull, sucking all logic out of my brain and devouring them for his own selfish gain.
But this isn’t a selfish act.
Instinctively, like a wounded deer I flinch back.
He grins and invades my radius completely.
“You dare defy me?” He’s chuckling but his voice holds a low sinister tone.
“No, sir,” I gulp down my pounding heart. I can feel it in my throat. He’s going to take it for himself.
“Sir?” He almost laughs. He pushes forward and I step back. It’s like a rythem.
Forward,
Back,
Forward,
Back, until my back is firmly pressed against the cold wall.
“… My lord,” I get out more confidently.
“That’s more like it.”
He’s so close, so incredibly close that I want to wrap myself in his smell.
He’s so close, so comfortably close that I want to reach out and grab onto him.
He’s so close, so devastatingly close that I want to shrivel up into the corner.
But he won’t let me do any of that. He’s grabbing onto the hem of my shirt with one hand and steadying my body with his other.
“One more chance, Green. Show me.” He is demanding in the politest possible way, if that is even possible.
“One…” he begins a countdown.
My body can’t move. Those purples have me paralysed. There’s nothing I can do, I’m a victim to his paralysis.
Those purples are like venom that has entered my bloodstream,
Intoxicating,
Suffocating,
Unnerving.
“Two…”
I compose myself the best I can. Inhaling sharply and closing my eyes. Calming my heart and steadying my shaking body, I close my brain off to sinful thoughts.
“Okay,” I give in.
The Balladeer leaves my radius and the temperature drops. He’s watching my every move. From my hands shakily grasping onto the hem of my shirt to when I pull it over my head.
Like I thought, the crimson red has seeped through the bandage forming the perfect circle.
“I knew it,” he sighs. “Take it off.”
My body complies without thought and before I know it I’ve done as he’s said.
He’s got sutures in his hand and he’s back invading my radius. He shakes his head at me before his purples look at my open wound.
“You are so incredibly stupid. You could have bled to death,” he’s grumbling like he’s angry but his voice has a hint of sincerity.
He bends down and begins threading my flesh with the sutures. He’s so warm, so incredibly warm. His hands are at my waist working seamlessly as each suture is perfectly placed into my skin. His soft hair blows lightly with every breath I take and I can feel his own breath against my skin, I can’t quite compose myself. The sight before me is incredulous.
The Balladeer bends a knee to me