Sharp

An extremely open-ended story of a princess(?) and a prince(?) who meet twice, in two very different situations.

Everything about him was sharp.

 

I met him twice: each time in a radically different situation. And each time with a severely different outcome. Only one thing remained the same about him between our two encounters: the raw sharpness of him. There was no other word to explain it.

 

            He entered the grand ballroom. Except, no one would accuse him of simply entering. He held himself with an indisputable air of confidence as he waltzed saunteringly into the grand ballroom where the celebration was being held. I watched him from the raised platform where I sat. His self-certainty both aggravated and intrigued me. His hair was a shocking white. Not the silver wiry hair worn by the elderly, but a bright, youthful white, which swept playfully in all directions, in a jagged mess that suited him. He wore a simple, white, sleeveless tunic, which, I’m sure purposefully, displayed his solid, muscular arms, which were encircled with blue and silver armbands that signified Nimaebian royalty. A blue and silver sash was draped across his chest, from shoulder to hip, which brought out his startling blue eyes.

Just as I noticed that sharp, brilliant feature of his, he turned to me and his eyes captured mine. My breath caught in my throat. There was a fierce challenge behind those eyes that I did not expect. To my great annoyance, I blushed. He quirked an eyebrow mockingly. This, of course, infuriated me further, and I blushed harder. The corner of his mouth twitched. I looked away, refusing to play his games. When I peeked back around again, he was still there, watching me cockily. At this point, I’d had enough. With a huff, I stood and marched down to him. He laughed at me playfully. My own, green eyes hardened with an adverse defiance. He faltered. Considering myself the victor, I brushed past him, out the palace doors and down the wide marble staircase onto the beach.

I padded across the sand, my long white dress trailing behind me, and let the tide roll over my toes. I lifted my head back and laughed at the stars. How long it had been since I got to experience a little conflict. I heard a throat clearing behind me. I turned to him, this time smiling. Music from the gala could be heard faintly from inside the palace. He bowed extravagantly, mockingly, inviting me to dance. His eyes still held a challenge, daring me to accept his hand. I took it cheekily. His eyes sparkled.

We waltzed across the stretch of beach, sand caking our wet toes, the stars above our only witnesses.

 

Across the battlefield, I saw him. His stance was tense. He leaned forward anxiously on the balls of his feet, muscles flexing in anticipation. My eyes followed the tight grip of his sweaty hand on his sword, up his arms, which were no longer decorated with the blue and silver bands of Nimaebian royalty. I let my sight trail across his collar, where I saw the edge of a rebel tattoo peeking from behind his torn and tattered shirt.  My eyes traced up his chiseled jawline, clenched with tension, and up into his hair, which, while still swift and jagged, was now matted with filth and blood, and plastered to his face with rain. Finally, I lowered my eyes to his.

Just as our eyes met, the battle began, as if our concentrated emotion had sparked the sudden clashing of men and swords. But we, instead, stood still as statues, staring. Just as before, I was nearly knocked backwards by the sharp challenge I saw in his eyes. I doubted I would ever be able to look into them without experiencing a fresh burst of surprise at their intensity. The clear blue pierced me like ice and my vision tunneled. Shocked into immobility, I stared through the downpour, across thousands of battling men, and saw nothing but those infuriatingly noncompliant, beautiful blue eyes. He narrowed them, challenging. I stared back defiantly, hoping my bold green eyes gave him the same dethroning shock as his did mine. Raindrops caught at our eyelashes as they fell.

A bear of a man barreled towards me, yelling, bringing me back to my senses. I quickly sidestepped. He tried to stop himself, but a combination of the relentless rain and a buildup of momentum caused his feet to slip from underneath him. He fell hard on his back, snapping his head back. I heard a sickening crack: probably a broken spine. I drew my sword and stabbed him through the heart for good measure. I remembered a time when I was delighted by the slightest hint of conflict.

I looked back to where my prince had been standing, but he was gone.

Author's Note

- I haven't got names for characters... I don't think I need them unless I want to turn this into a longer story with a real plot.
-What are they celebrating? Why are they battling? What is a rebel? LikeI said before: very open-ended
-I thought about having her kill him... but idk if she could do it... thoughts?
-Should their weapons be swords? I thought about making this more fantasy-ish and giving them some less-generic weapons than swords.
-Where/when is Nimaebia? I don't even know. I just made it up. It's obviously in a kind of ancient time period (castles, swords, etc) but I've no idea where... but it doesn't really matter, I guess
-If I did turn this into a real story, I would obviously have to figure out what happens between the two encounters to cause such a dramatic transition.
As always, any and all constructive criticism is welcome.

Reviews

[PadfootBlack]

Unf. I like this man being described. I like him very much. Makes me think a bit of young Sirius Black. "nobody would accuse him of simply entering" is a clever line. Perhaps consider changing nobody to no one? It just seems to roll off the tongue easier. I love this.

[Liefje]

Thanks so much! I agree about "no one" and I will change it. (Although the words "no one" have always annoyed me because I want them to be one word like "nobody" or "everyone" but they're not and they mock me constantly)

[PadfootBlack]

right? I type "noone" all the time and then it's like... Nope. THAT'S not it.

[Liefje]

sometimes I even type "none" like the two parts are sharing the "o"

[Maya]

i love this, you should definitely make it into a longer story. Id read it!

[Liefje]

I would REALLY love to do that, but I have no idea where to go with it... thoughts?

[Maya]

hmm .. you could try turning it into a novel and have this story be cut into small flashbacks in your main characters mind like her going about her average day and being hit by these sudden flashbacks ? idk just a thought

[Liefje]

Well I would love love LOVE to take this story somewhere. I will definitely play around with the characters, and see if I can string together a plot.

[Maya]

you should!(: