A Date With the Villain in the Dark Dark Forest

Your casual noblewoman would have picked either a fancy tea room, the sweetness of the cakes supposed to feed the sweetness of their thoughts; a rose garden offering way too many opportunities to compliment her; or perhaps a stroll through town, expecting you to cover her with gifts.

    Anything that would have sounded romantic enough for a date.

    But, again, Ambrillia is far from your casual noblewoman.

    As agreed yesterday, I have reached the forest edge for a fair couple of minutes now. Arms crossed, I keep tapping my fingers against my forearm.

“What sort of trap is it… The more I think about it, the less I can ignore the red flag set by the choice of the forest as a place for a date. Maybe she truly plans to kill me in there.”

    The thought makes me chuckle to myself, shaking my head in mockery.

“This would be such an amateur move, though. If I were to be murdered there, the protection she’ll benefit from would fade along with my evil presence, and she would get devoured in no time by eager monsters. This is something I would expect more from Gallghaid.”

    Maybe this is why he didn’t show up at his parents’ planned execution. Maybe the monsters got him. With still no trace of him, I seriously begin to think that he died in a dumb way.

“I wish I had at least the opportunity to mock his absurd death.”

    Not even am I allowed to fantasise about different scenarios regarding this matter before a voice rings the bells of my mind’s demise.

“Duke Luphor!”

    Her arrival seems perfectly timed. Not a minute in advance, not a single one late.

It’s when I turn my gaze to her waving silhouette that I understand Ambrillia planned her apparition perfectly as well.

     Instead of a dress, she wears long pastel green pants adorned with frills and amber ribbons. Somehow the colours match what I assume is her favourite dress. Adorable. As for her blouse… she picked a milk-white one, overlong strands of fabric hanging from her collar. Elegant.

    Not moving an inch, I stand still until the marquessa is close enough to stop in turn.

“Are you alright?” She rhetorically wonders with her signature smile. “You’re shivering.”

“I’m not shivering I’m holding back the urge to push into an embrace the perfect creature I have before my eyes from fear of melting at the slightest brush of her celestial incarnation.”

    Falling to my knees, I exteriorise the psychological pressure I’ve been exposed to by torturing blades of grass one by one at an unmatched pace.

“I’m… perfectly fine…”

    Ambrillia doesn’t elaborate, most likely observing me until I muster enough remnants of my will to straighten up and strategically turn my back to her.

“Follow me, the banshee of the Luphor family isn’t far from our position. We shall greet her first.”

    With a nod, she complies and we head closer to the entrance of the forest, leaving behind an artistic trace on the ground… the missing blades of grass shaping the marquessa’s features.

    As we reach a bunch of bramble bushes, a grim, arched silhouette dressed in a brownish, slightly faded shawl stands there, awaiting us.

“What is her name?” The marquessa asks before we join her.

“Iagan.”

    Slowing my pace, I stop a few steps away from the banshee. Any being gifted with common perception would understand that despite her apparent grand age, her wrinkled forehead and tangled hair, defying a being like her would mean instant death. The magic infuses her every vein, maybe at the origin of the ruby dots in her vivid, emerald eyes.

“I greet you, mighty Iagan.” I take one step closer, bringing my fist to my chest. “Like each year, I offered you the finest harvests of Oneixium tea, and I hope they are to your taste. Thank you for preventing the monsters from entering my lands.” I pause, glancing at Iagan as she offers me a nod in approval. “Can you offer me your protection as I walk into the forest?”

“Go, child of the Luphor.” The banshee utters in a whizzing voice, as if the wind itself answered. “No monster will dare to touch a single strand of your fire hair.”

    At her promise of protection, I slowly nod at Iagan, briefly closing my eyes.

    As I turn then a glance to Ambrillia, I spot her bowing gracefully, pinching the frills sewn at her sides despite not wearing a dress.

“It’s an honour to be able to meet you, mighty Iagan.”

    A truly blessed sight… corrupting my gaze to linger at her instead of gesturing for her to follow me. That is, until she seems to glance up at me.

    A flutter of my heart sends me back on track, and I avert my gaze.

    We have already taken a few steps further in the direction of the forest when I feel a breeze brush my back. The banshee is watching us silently as we slowly disappear behind the first ranges of trees.

“For as long as we are in the forest, make sure to stay close to me, marquessa.”

“Do you often visit your banshee?” Ambrillia asks.

“Not that often.” I reply before frowning. “My father used to, but I never feel fully at ease in her presence.”

    My thoughts shape into words before I realise it. Is it another side effect of that curse called love? What a deceptive name, a mental disease hidden in the disguise of innocence and fluffy antics. To think that some ladies daydream about it. All lies. Love is alienation and corruption of the soul.

“Do you hold a grudge against her?” The marquessa’s voice dispels my thoughts.

“Grudge..? Why would I?”

“For not saving your father.”

    I part my lips at her words. That’s not something I would’ve expected her to bring up, especially after the words we shared in that antique shop. Didn’t she find me rude enough to avoid mentioning that subject again?

    Briefly, I glance at her.

    In her tone, there was no disgust nor hatred when she spoke about my father.

“There are many I hold a grudge against for leading him to his death. Iagan isn’t part of them.”

    But, truth must be told, each time I see this banshee I can’t help it… Memories of that piercing scream come back to my mind… Of that night she announced my father’s looming death.

    That’s not something I’m used to. Speaking with Ambrillia… feels easier than with anyone else.

“Banshees always know when the end of any member of the family they protect is near. All they can do is lament and share their prediction. Even their protection has its limits.” I avert my gaze. The light is already dimmed, though we’re not deep yet into this cage of leaves holding the monsters at bay. “These grim fairies wouldn’t bring themselves to disrupt the course of fate. Its threads… are not theirs to pull on.”

    A heavy pressure begins to weigh over my chest, driving me further into my thoughts, farther away from the marquessa.

    But…

    I barely have the occasion to notice it myself before I widen my eyes, yelping at the sudden pressure which settles, instead, around my forearm.

“M-Marqu..quessa Ambrillia….Wh..what are you doing?!”

    Her hand pressed against my shoulder, she has both arms wrapped around mine like a snake proceeding to choke the air out of its prey’s lungs.

“Didn’t you tell me to stay close to you?” She recalls.

    Her will to reduce my braincells to a buttery mess is so obvious that I decide to express my protest by not fainting.

“That isn’t what I was implying!!!!” I think without being able to share it as anything other than a couple of muffled noises, my lips numb.

    Bearing though the torture like the great evil mind I am, we walk like this side by side, dry leaves crushing under our steps, branches cracking every so often. Peculiar to think that despite this place being a deadly one — a heavy odour lingering in the air as a reminder of its rightful inhabitants — we keep strolling as if through the most colourful garden.

    Her warmth spreads through her clothes to mine, and it must have somehow numbed my senses in turn, as I surprise myself by finding it oddly appeasing. Even… comforting. Unless this is a side effect of her hair’s apricot scent. A fruity toxin.

“Do you feel any better?”

    That’s what she says after a while, in a quiet and soft whisper. Less quietly, my heart jumps in my chest.

    The thought didn’t cross my mind before. Is it possible that her attack on my breathing space… that she simply tried to dispel my grim memories?

    For a moment, all the sounds, all the scents seem to fade away. All I can feel is a fluffy brush in my chest. If, just if, I had her by my side years ago, would I have…

    The thought remains unfinished as I come to a sudden standstill, earning myself a quizzical glance from Ambrillia.

    Horrified, I realise in a second how close I got to losing common sense.

“No, I can’t! I can’t! If I let her intrude on my thoughts any further my soul will be irremediably corrupted! Don’t forget, Rowan! This may be a date for her, but this is a battle for me. I didn’t come here today to bask in her presence nor to praise her featherlight touch, but to defeat the terrible threat that love is!”

    That is when I recall the existence of the weapon I brought with me for this very purpose.

“This! It’s the perfect moment to use what I bought this afternoon.”

    Slowly, carefully, I reach my hand into the inner pocket of my mahogany red coat.

“Marquessa Ambrillia, I have a gift for you…”

    Let’s put an end to all this comedy.