No longer a promise of Spring
Since Melchior made the desicion to go in disguise there was only one person that knew of it. Normally he wouldn’t ever take chances but for some reason he had hoped to keep his girl alive. When word reaches him that the girl had spoken of her past and perhaps might have given small clues to who she was he feared some might guess as to who he is too.
—-
Melchior looked down on the slave sleeping. How beautiful she was and how often she had amused him with her stories, her wit. His eyes travel over her naked form while the light seemed to play tricks over it. The shadows almost like silk draped over her. How he had tried to reason with himself, tried to keep himself in the thought and mindset that she was able to adjust to the sudden changes he at times was forced to make. Her bright spirit more often than not had made him forget that he once took the dreaded black and denounce all of his life prior to his training. How he often longed to it while he had been awake and staring up into the dark sky. She was one of those stars, he figured.
Melchior softly caressed her soft skin, like a feather so light. She was so perfect and yet all that he had liked about her, could be his down fall too. A wrong word choosen could end up in her and his death. Her history so rich and filled with stories that it was torment to demand her silence over them. He felt the knot in his stumach when he even gave it thought. “How perfect you are.” he murmered while he kissed her cheek softly. “Perfect for any man but me.” he added softly.
Melchior tried to see other options and yet failed to see one that could keep her in the way she was. He could break her, but than again he would not own the perfection she was now. He turned seeing the silouhet of the reflection his dagger gave. It was as always placed near his pillow. He could draw it with the very ihn he felt there was need for it. It almost seemed to lure him, as if it already knew what he needed to do.
Melchior knew she slept and had cuddled close to him a few ahn earlier. Her warmth against him normally made him sleep but this time the grim thoughts didn’t seem to put down to sleep. Slowly he reached out to take the dagger. The reflection in the room sinister and dark. He took one of the sheets and placed it over her sleeping body. He couldn’t see her face, not while he would take the very thing he had enjoyed so much. If anyone knew of torture, he knew now. Doing something that held no outcome but loss.
Melchior than positions the dagger to that tender spot upon her body, that would make her death swift almost instant. Her brain instantly without oxigen and her heart no longer able to push her blood through her veins. He plungded it to her heart and twisted it ever quickly. The sheets instantly stain with her crimson blood. Her body contracted in that amazing will to live. He took the dagger from her chest, allowing the blood now gush out so it would drain her from all life.
Melchior didn’t feel pride, only that emptiness. That void which she had filled all the time. No longer had he a slave that could lighten his mood. A girl that served with a smile and laughter. He looked down on the now lifeless corpse of what once had been the shy girl that could lure candidates from the celibacy. His safety had a price and with it the price was high. “Thank you my spring.” he murmers while he would take the body up his shoulder to go into the sewers to rid himself from it.
Melchior didn’t mind to have to clean the floor of her blood, it kept him occupied and perhaps from crying. His heart broken and with it he made again his vow. Never would he allow to get attached to a slave again. His hands raw of his labour being so thoroughly. Spring would remain in his memories treasured. “The Priest Kings might curse me now.” he muttered. Lifting himself up for a midnight walk. One of the killer he was. Alone with gold and steel and with the lack of the promise of Spring.
Crows Murder 
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