Hans

The castle shook, almost crumbling beneath the force of the screeching winds and the thrashing hailstones. Hans curled beneath his blankets, escaping the sound of the dreadful storm and the cold that crept into his room despite the closed windows.

Lucian... He must be screaming his heart out in terror out there. Hans clenched his fists in frustration. They just don't understand! Lucian was newly made. He was still not used to the horror of being trapped in that gargoyle, all alone in the cold dark woods. Even Agnes who had been made centuries ago still had her moments of terror until this day. And Lucian had barely completed a few months.

Hans. Get me out of here. Hans could almost hear Lucian's cries now, like he heard them every night at the gargoyles graveyard, and he closed his eyes in sorrow. If only he knew how. Getting Lucian out was as impossible as a human giving birth to a winged one. For centuries, no one had ever found a way to get the trapped souls out of the gargoyles. Not even the witches who had performed the curse. And it was only likely that Lucian would remain trapped there for eternity.

But Hans had tried though. He had tried with Agnes before. He had tried destroying her gargoyle. But the gargoyle stone was indestructible. An ancient rare stone that was powerful enough to withstand even the power of gods. Hans had spoken with other gargoyles from the graveyard as well, in hopes of hearing a story or even a myth, about any success freeing a trapped soul from its gargoyle form.

But he found nothing.

And he cursed Bernard, like he cursed him every night. Bernard... the cause of all evil in this place.

The storm raged louder and the gargoyle screams reached him as he cowered beneath his blanket. But Hans's distress was now replaced by anger as he kept repeating Bernard's name over and over in his mind, mentally killing him in the most insufferable and unimaginable ways. Bernard... Bernard... Bernard... He had taken Lucian away from him. And now he was going to take Mikal away as well...

***

His heart drummed manically against his ribcage. His soul whirled within the confines of his body, throbbing dangerously against his eardrums as it frantically searched for a way to be free. He screamed, but the scream died before it was even born, freezing within his choking throat. Endless terror shook every part of his being. Endless terror that drove him to the verge of madness.

Cold winds slapped against his body, and tree branches scratched against his back. He closed his eyes, in an attempt to escape his horrors. But the horror seized him anew as he realized that he could still see through his eyelids. A night owl flew towards him, green flame flickering within its big round eyes. He screamed again, and again, but not even a moan escaped his frozen throat.

He took in a deep breath and slowly tried to move his fingers. Nothing. He tried to squirm. Nothing. He tried to scream again. Nothing.

Hans knew it was a dream. He knew, because it was the same dream he had every night, among many other dreams and nightmares. But this one was always the most dreadful. Because despite being completely aware that he was dreaming, he could never stop the gruesome terror that consumed him, every single time. No matter what he did, he could never break the dream, no matter how many times he closed and opened his eyes, he could never wake up. As if an invisible dark spell had bound him, confining his whole being into an eternal sleep of terror inside a monstrous gargoyle.

It was eternal indeed, or so he thought, until he lost all hope and stopped struggling. There was no point anymore. He closed his eyes and relaxed, letting his soul float out into the dark...

He saw him again tonight. The same man he had been seeing for many nights, for as long as he could remember. And tonight, like most nights, he was that man.

A long black cloak concealed his tall lean form, a black hood masking his light brown hair and matching eyes. He cowered behind the shadows as he walked through the dark passage, avoiding the pale moonlight that flowed in through the tall arches in the wall. He was hiding from something. He was always hiding. And he was very good at it.

Every time Hans had a dream of that man it brought back vague memories, probably from his early childhood when he had been sickly and sleeping most of the time. Yet sometimes Hans felt that he had known that man far too well and too long to be mere memories from a forgotten childhood. Perhaps he had known him in a previous life, if such a thing was ever possible.

A black cat in the black night, he stealthily entered into a chamber. It was too dark and he could barely see anything. But he knew very well how to follow the sound of a beating heart. And so he did, holding his breath as he approached a big winged man sleeping soundly in the middle of a large bed. 

The dream felt so real and vivid, that Hans wondered if he was even dreaming in the first place. But it didn't really matter. Dream or reality, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. Dream or reality, he was in full control.

As quiet as a soulless ghost, he readied his experienced hand above the sleeping man's chest, before he plunged the knife right through his heart.

A low grunt followed, before another slashing stab sank into flesh. He pulled the knife out, and again he dug it deep into the bleeding heart, splattering wet thick blood all over his own face. 

He inhaled the gratifying scent of blood, before he stuck the knife once more into the shuddering man's chest. Again and again he dug his knife, stabbing him over and over with abundant vengeance until the air had grown too thick with the stench of blood and too quiet with the silence of death...

***

A shrill scream woke him up the next morning, and Hans's eyes fluttered open as the sound of scurrying footsteps faded outside the room. He could smell the raw blood within his nostrils, and as he attempted to rise, his hands sunk into a wet stickiness beneath him. His heart froze for a moment before he sat upright at once.

Blood dripped from his own face and hair, as well as the dagger in his hand, falling unto the butchered chest of the dead man lying beneath him. Blood blanketed the upper half of the man's body as well as his bed. Torn flesh and poking bones mingled with the shredded fabric of the man's nightshirt. Hans looked down at the victim's very familiar face, and he held his breath as dead blue eyes stared back at him vacantly...

Bernard's dead blue eyes.

Guards were already storming into the chamber before Hans had a chance to turn. Strong hands grabbed him and dragged him away from Bernard's dead body.

Vilfred appeared in the doorway, his face white with horror and his green eyes wide with shock.

And despite everything, Hans felt an overwhelming ecstasy building within his chest, threatening to tear him apart if he held it back. So the next thing he did, Hans burst out laughing.

He did it.

He had killed Bernard Nordstrom.

Chaos shook the whole castle as the news of Bernard's death spread like fire. Hans was still laughing as the guards dragged him straight to the Great Hall, the bloodstained dagger still in his hand, a proof of his crime. But Hans didn't care. Because he had killed Bernard Nordstrom. The monster who had killed Lucian. The monster who was going to let Mikal die too.

Chains closed around his wings and his limbs, rendering him immobile. Hans looked around him and his laughter came to a halt as he suddenly registered the number of faces present within the great hall. This must be the biggest number of witnesses to have ever witnessed a murder. Because of yesterday's storm, most of the Northern Lords had stayed over for the night. And now they stood in the great hall, staring wide eyed at the deranged young boy who lay chained on the floor, his nightshirt drenched in Bernard's blood, the bloodstained dagger still in his hand.

***

"He is only a child!" Vilfred snapped as most of the present Lords called for justice.

"He committed murder," the old Lord Hadrian of Cyla said.

"So what do you want me to do? Cut his head off?" Vilfred scowled.

"Killing a winged one is an unforgivable sin," another one of the elder Lords said.

"Come on, he's a fucking child. A halfwit at that!" Vilfred protested.

"Sir Vilfred, you are so intent on defending your brother who had just happened to kill your Lord, your very same Lord who refused to save your other brother. I can't help myself but question if this was your idea in the first place," Hadrian said.

"How dare you!" Vilfred turned to Hadrian with a murderous glare.

"Please my Lords, there is no need for that. We all know Sir Vilfred is an honorable man. He would never plot to kill his own Lord no matter the reason," Lord Pekka said.

"How can you be so sure?" Hadrian asked.

"It's simple. We can ask the boy," Lefan said.

"A halfwit who can't speak?" Hadrian sneered. "Well I can see how convenient that is!"

"Enough!" Vilfred growled. "You dare repeat your accusations again and I will not hesitate to kill you myself, unforgivable sin or not." Vilfred turned to the rest of the Lords. "And now since Lord Bernard is dead, I Vilfred Nordstrom, the eldest male in line, claim my right to rule Nordenvania as his successor."

Silence filled the hall as Vilfred stared long and hard at each of the Lords, silently daring them to utter a single protest. But no one dared.

"And as the new Lord of Nordenvania, I shall decide what to do with Lord Bernard's killer."

"And as new Lord of Nordenvania, I suppose you will also accept the alliance with William and save your other brother too?" Hadrian sneered.

"Sorry to disappoint you Lord Hadrian, but that is not going to happen," Vilfred said with a narrowed stare. Whispers rose and wide eyes looked back at Vilfred in shock.

"Mikal is my beloved brother, and I would do anything to save him," Vilfred said as he turned to the rest of the Northern Lords, "but not by betraying our dear friend Lord Frederik and surrendering our lands to our enemy. We are all honorable men, my brother Mikal included. And as much as it wounds me to know that I am endangering my brother's life, I would do nothing to stain my honor, or his. Like Bernard had said, if Mikal dies, he dies a hero. But if we surrender, then we are all cowards." Vilfred stopped and stared long at the presence where their earlier shock was now replaced by deep respect. Except for Hans who gaped up at Vilfred in utter horror.

"And thus, there shall be no changes to the late Lord Bernard's decisions," Vilfred continued "As agreed yesterday, I shall set out to Kassarath to gather more mercenaries, and you my dear Lords shall prepare your forces as well."

The Lords agreed in unison, while Hans still stared up at Vilfred in disbelief, his heart shattered by this unexpected betrayal. Hans had killed Bernard so that Vilfred would have the chance to save Mikal. But now even Vilfred was leaving Mikal to die!

Hans opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. No words ever came out. And he could only cry voicelessly in frustration.

"Hans..." Vilfred frowned as he turned towards Hans, and Hans trembled in both fear and fury. He wanted to yell and scream at Vilfred. How could he abandon Mikal like that!

"Take him to the Sky Tower," Vilfred simply ordered as he turned to the guards instead.

The guards came to take him and Hans gasped out as he tried to form the words on his lips. No! Wait! He tried to say, but the only thing he could do was rasp out a short hoarse cry. No matter how hard he tried, he could not speak.

Vilfred! Please! Don't let them take me. Vilfred!

Incoherent cries escaped him as the guards dragged him away, and he turned his neck as far as he could to catch Vilfred's eyes. But all he received from his brother was a long condemning stare...

****************

Yes, yes, I know, that was a bit sudden. Did you expect that Bernard would die that way? :D

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