BALLAD OF HUA MULAN 》THE WEEPING MONK

chapter 13

chapter 13:
your touch. . .
Lancelot

All I craved was peace and quiet. I was tired, so tired of being used and beaten for what I was born into, and I just wanted it all to end. Whether it would be in my own death or the smooth hand of the woman I have come to love taking my own and running away, I was just tired.

"You ignore my summons."

His very words sent an icy chill up my beaten spine, and I shivered from the breeze as it touched my raw wounds.

"His Grace," I mumbled, "I cannot feel it. I call out to him. . .I reach out, and there is only darkness."

"You are the avenging sword of light in pitched battle against the Lord of Darkness," Father stood before me.

"Did you think you could escape his touch? His corruption?"

I had hoped.

"The Beast does not tear the flesh, it tears the soul."

"Do you love me, Father?" I asked, breathing shakily.

Is it enough for you?

"Of course I do."

Am I enough?

I choked on a sob, "Even if I am damned?"

"Those are dangerous words," Father warned as he sat down.

"We will speak of this one last time. You were demon-born. An abomination in the eyes of God. But, I spared you from the fire because you could sense your own kind," I started to realize my usefulness in this war, slowly recognizing the lies that were forced down my throat.

She was right. . .

"I gave you scripture. I gave you discipline. I forged you into one of our sharpest blades. I turned you against your Maker. And I laid the first brick on your road to salvation," He leaned in.

"But I cannot walk the road for you, my son. I cannot save you from the flames. You have to have the will to do what is necessary. Do you have the will, my son?" Those words I yearned for now stung me like the whip striking my back.

"Yes, Father," I breathed out.

"Then we shall not speak of this again."

In that moment, I wanted to scream and cry, but the silence was too overwhelming. I craved any type of sound, even if it was the weapons they used against me. And it seemed as if my prayers were answered, as my bride walked in, making the softest of sounds as her feet walked into the tent. The bucket she placed unto the floor made the water inside slosh around, and it sprinkled back down inside when she ringed out the cloth.

"I will not ask you to speak, as I already know what you think. . ." She spoke softly as she cleaned my back, and I felt so ashamed and vulnerable. I wanted to tear off the cross they forged into my skull, burning it away with the strongest of flames.

"But I'm sorry he wasn't all you thought he was."

I'm sorry.

"And you don't need to apologize. Manipulation is a heavy tool that they use too often."

I let them do this.

"I. . .I only sang this once before, but I know you liked it. I could see it in those eyes of yours."

Please distract me.

Distract me from all this pain.

"The moon is bright, the wind is quiet,
The tree leaves hang over the window," She sung softly, and I closed my eyes.

"My little baby, go to sleep quickly,
Sleep, dreaming sweet dreams," The dipping of the cloth in the water to ring out the blood didn't cross my mind as she continued with her melody, only feeling peace and my craving for it dying down.

"The moon is bright, the wind is quiet,
The cradle moves softly," She then moved to the front of me, but my eyes remained closed as she cleaned the blood and dirt from my body.

"My little one, close your eyes,
Sleep, sleep. . ." She trailed off, and my eyes slowly opened up to see just how close she had gotten. Her eyes were steadied on mine, and the cloth slowly fell from her hand as it came up to cradle my cheek.

"Dreaming. . .sweet dreams. . ." She mumbled, getting ever so closer to me with her eyes now on my lips, and I nodded.

Our lips finally pressed together, suppressed feelings finally coming up to the surface, and they moved together in sync. My hand moved to her waist, resting upon it as I went deeper, my passion and craving for her bubbling up and she met me at that halfway point.

Her soft lips pulled away, both of us needing air, and rested her forehead against mine. No words needed to be spoken, as we already knew.

Hua Mulan. . .

I love you.