Dance of the Night

“My mother,” she paused clenching her hands tightly, taking a breath, “wishes for me to become a nun.”
“A nun? That is…debauchery!” he exclaimed. He paced back and forth, combing his fingers through his hair in frustration.  “Yes, of course becoming a nun is a respectable position, but…” he sighed, testing his words in his mind before he used them. “Why…does she wish this?”
“My dear Dante,” Gabriella breathed, a tear twisting down her cheek. “My father has lost his money due to his gambling problems. All of my sisters have been married. They all have taken on the names of their suitors; they were married off before I was of age for matrimony. And I…being the youngest and the last of a long line of daughters, am left with nothing. Our title has been stripped from us, as well as my dowry. They can no longer take care of me and have sent for the church to take me away and have me made for a life of abstinence.  I was supposed to be married to Lorenzo Gabirnillo,” she paused, looking up into Dante’s eyes, slight fear clenching in her stomach at his murderous expression,  “but,” she continued, trying to bring him out of his malicious stupor, “ I can’t marry him, nor can I become a nun now…”
“Not that I desire for you to become a nun,.. but why can’t you?” he asked, his eyes showing that he already assumed what had had happened.
“Well,” Gabriella trembled, her eyes dispelling more tears.  “I…I was walking through the woods late at night…about a month ago,” she looked up at him, agony and rage stewing in his eyes, “and the woods never bothered me before, they were always protective of me…comforting almost…” she trailed off, his hate was brewing more and more, not directed at her…but at…
“And what happened?” he growled.
“It was getting late, and the moon was already high in the sky… I started to run faster, hoping my mother and father wouldn’t be furious. I knew they wouldn’t whip me because I was to be married in a week. But…” Gabriella stopped, not wanting to go on. Her eyes clenched shut and she clasped her hands together tightly, her knuckles turning white.
“You don’t need to explain further,” he spoke with a forced calm. “I do not want to hear what I already know.” Dante shook with escalating rage, but tried to soften his expression when he looked back down at her.
“He will die for this. For I will kill him,” Dante promised himself and her. He took her close in his arms and stroked her lower back, hoping to calm her, to purge her of her distraught thoughts.
“No!” Gabriella cried into Dante’s shoulder, “Don’t! Please…” she sobbed uncontrollably, burying her face in her hands. “No…no…no.” She crumpled to the ground, her dress billowing in the wind.
He gave her a puzzled look and said, “Don’t what?”
“Try to kill him!” she bawled, tears spilling onto his neck.
“You still hold sympathy for him, even though he did that to you that night in the woods?” His teeth gritted and a muscle pulsed in his neck.
“NO!” Gabriella wept, “I don’t care about him!” She stopped speaking; she cupped her head in her hands and her folded torso against her lap. Fighting back tears she tried to steady her voice and said, “I want him to die, I want him to die so deeply, I would do it myself but…I am no murderer.”
“That is why I will do it!” he pledged.
“You are no murderer,” she whispered, love and caring saturating her voice.
“I will be, in this case, to gain revenge for what your fiancé did to you before holy matrimony!”
“You can’t do this!” she moaned, looking up at him from the ground. Sobs crept into her voice, shaking her shoulders ever so slightly.
“LORENZO TOOK SOMETHING FROM YOU!” he bellowed, “and you lay and cry here, as if defending him!” There was strong conviction in his voice that made her cry even more.
“You don’t understand…” Gabriella whispered around sobs.
“Are you calling me an imbecile?” he said viciously, his brown hair whipping around his face from the strong wind.
“If I say you are will you stay away from him?” she implored, tears that were clinging to her lashes now being carried downwind.
“No. I love you! Do you not see that? I am risking my life to gain back your honour!” He kneeled down and cupped her face, looking deep into her eyes, trying to fathom her response.
“You will never be able to defeat him,” she mumbled, hoping to use that as a deterrent from what he planned to do to Lorenzo.
“Are…are you calling me a coward?” he asked, disbelief in his voice, as well as something else…anger…betrayal…grief?
“Yes,” she lied. Anything that would make him change his mind she would do. Gabriella didn’t want to risk the chance of his failure and for him to be on the other side of the sword. Hoping to save his precious life and to dishearten his impulsive action she said, looking back into his eyes, “I do not love you. Dante, you are not meaningful to me. You never have been.” Each word ripped her heart out of her chest and tore it into shreds. Tearing it again, and again, a sadness stomping on them, crushing them into the ground.
His face…oh she could not describe his reaction. She saw his loving and passionate expression harden, becoming stony and unrecognizable. She saw his lips form a line, but lastly…she gazed into his eyes, but at first, they did not match his face. They were full of ardor and caring. Full of affection, full of… love. Slowly she saw his eyes were jointed with both love and sorrow. They drifted in his jade gaze, as if on a calm lake. The sorrow pushed itself further in, gaining victory of his eyes. But the sorrow was no match against the anger that easily dominated his gaze and replaced it. The anger was a pirate ship, pillaging his compassion, taking over.
His hand fell limp from her face. His countenance turned blank and he stood up swiftly. Opening his mouth to say something, nothing came out. Words were devouring each other. He stopped trying to reply and glared. Glared down at her with disgust and revulsion. Instead of speaking gentle words, he spat, “You are worthless now. Even more so than before. You lost the last thing that made you worth even the smallest thing!”
“And what would that be?” Gabriella said, her voice gaining steel. She was starting to regret this choice… She shouldn’t have said those words that broke him into pieces, just like her heart. In fact, he was her heart.
“You had my love. Even with your purity taken, even though you are poor, I still loved you. But now…”
Her face crumpled, her decision to discourage him had flown back at her. She did not foresee that happening this way. Of course she knew he would be furious, but she did not expect his scarring words, followed by his righteous fervor.
“Wait!” she pleaded, “I shouldn’t hav---“
“Save it for someone who cares about your wretched soul!” 
“NO!” she begged for his understanding, “Please listen to me!” She wrapped her arms around his ankles, mumbling beseeching words for him to listen.
“This is revolting!” he hollered, stepping back forcefully, trying to get her off. She held on as if it was her lifeline, hugging herself tighter to him, not letting go.
Reaching down with a furious scowl on his face, he pried her fingers off of his legs, and shoved her backwards.
He watched, as if in slow motion, as his love flew backwards from his strong push and her head crunched against the hard stone of the balcony. Her body skidded across the ground, leaving a streak of blood as she went. Her dress thrashed in the wind, and her eyes was full of terror and grief. Her fright immediately dissipated as she slammed against the railing of the terrace.
Dante heard the loud snapping of bones. Not once did she scream. She kept her lips pursed, half wanting to die this way. She felt broken, contaminated. She was not worthy of having someone love her. She welcomed the pain, welcomed the feeling of loss, and welcomed…everything she could to rid herself of feeling.
She didn’t deserve to hold the love of another’s tenderly. Dante dropped to his knees, horror manifested on his face. He looked at his hands, loathing himself.
Crawling on his hands and knees over to where she lay in a heap on the floor, he felt her blood that was on the ground ooze between his fingers, reminding him that he was a killer.
Touching her frame delicately, he lifted her wrist and let go, seeing it fall limply to the marble of the balcony. Disbelief of what he had done shook his body, slaughtering him inside.
“Gabriella?” he sobbed, shaking her slightly. “NO!” Dante moaned, crouching his body over hers protectively. “Gabriella!” he hollered yet again, stroking her face. The blood on his hands smeared over her face. Her warm body remained motionless, and she opened her eyes to the fullest they would go.
“Dante,” Gabriella whispered, death slowly creeping into her throat.
“Shh,” he cooed, hugging her broken body inseparably.
“No…” she moaned. “I need to say this…”
“I’m so sorry,” he grieved.
“Listen,” she pleaded.
Dante clenched his jaw and looked at her, tears in his eyes. “Yes?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle.
“I really do love you…but…” She started to cough, her eyes becoming dimmer with each uproar.
Dante’s eyes trembled. He tried holding her closer, wanting to switch places with her. Wanting this fate for himself. Instead, he only felt her small breaths.
         “But,” she continued, after her coughing subsided. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”
         “It doesn’t matter what happens to me now.” Dante clutched her closer to him, longing to transfer his entire life source to her.
         Pressing his lips against hers, he felt them growing frigid. He pushed harder, not permitting death to take her away. He wept; relinquishing pent up emotions of the whole ordeal, letting them spill over her face, cleansing it of the blood.
         Dante massaged her cheeks, attempting to warm her, to do anything…
That’s when Dante heard the low chuckling of another behind him. It was a deep and throaty laugh, one that made Dante feel murderous and hateful.
“Oh no,” the voice said through laughs. “Such a shame. She was very pretty too. Wasn’t she Dante?”
An evil hatred erupted through Dante’s veins, fueling his spite, fueling his desire to see this man suffer.
Dante arose, covered in her crimson blood. He bit back convulsions and wiped his face with the back of his hand. “You shall die,” he said in the coldest, most bone chilling voice.
“Ahh good sir…” Lorenzo patronized. “Why do you seek revenge on me? You are the one who killed her, not I.”
Dante didn’t reply. He had already decided to die after he took Lorenzo’s with him. He couldn’t live knowing he killed once so innocent, one so caring, and one whom he loved so much.
“Do not contempt me, for I have enough to go around.”
“Haha,” Lorenzo grinned wickedly, his brown hair forming daggers in the wind. “Do you truly believe…?” Lorenzo began, pausing to increase Dante’s anger.
“What?” Dante spat, clenching the hilt of his sword resting in its sheath.
“That I didn’t love her?” Lorenzo spoke seriously, his face not giving away any emotion.
“You never loved her!” Dante howled, unsheathing his sword.
“Can you be so sure? Can you seriously believe what that little wretch said was true?”
Dante laughed humorlessly, a trace of malice in it. “One who loved another would never refer to them as a wretch. And for calling her a wretch, and the other crime you committed…” He left his threat go unspoken.
“Dante…Dante…Dante,” he mused, shaking his head from side to side. “She was only fifteen. She didn’t live a very long life, so this loss isn’t very important. If she lived…say…a few more years, then perhaps she might have some more worth in my eyes.” Lorenzo laughed spitefully, and then stopped seeming to remember something. “Oh yes…” he recalled. “I guess she lost her worth already due to some…aggression in the woods. Pity.”
Dante dug his fingers tighter on his sword, and stepped closer forcefully. “Do not speak of her that way!” he growled, a hidden threat underlying his words. “You know perfectly well what happened!”
“Dante, you are like a brother to me…one who I cherish fondly. Do not forget that on that fateful night, I lost a wife, and a possible long line of children. We both are of the age to start a family. You will be twenty in June, and I will be next month… I know what it feels like to lose a future. Do not spite me for my…bad choice.”
“You broke a most sacred law…a law in which is punishable by death.”
“Only to a woman,” Lorenzo snickered.  “But I as I see, you being the vigilante that you are, already took care of that issue. Enforcing the law like a good man, I raise my sword to you.”
“And as you raise your sword,” Dante spoke with derision and fury, “I will strike you in your chest and rip what life you have in your body,” he yelled, charging at Lorenzo with his gleaming sword drawn.
Lorenzo parried his blow and stepped backward, sending his sword cutting through the air towards Dante.
Blocking his jab, their swords clanged together, sending a ringing noise echoing out over the ocean below.
Lorenzo growled, his teeth gritted, “You’ll be joining her shortly, and once I dispose of you, I’ll dump both of your bodies in the churning sea below.”
With his strong arm, Lorenzo shoved Dante to the ground, Dante’s sword  flew from his grasp and clanked across the balcony before tipping over the side of the terrace.
Dante yelled a curse and pounded his fists against the stone. “Your undying humor bores me brother,” Dante hissed.
Once again, slow motion captured Dante’s mind. He tilted his head backwards awkwardly and saw the wide eyes of Gabriella staring at him, her head still leaking blood on the floor.  Leaving her eyes for a split second, he saw Lorenzo raise both of his arms, hands gripping on the hilt, guiding sword towards its decent to slice his neck in two.
With quick footwork, he twisted Lorenzo’s ankles and sent him flying backwards. Making him lose his grip on the sword, it grinded across the ground with a sickening noise over to where Gabriella lay.
Lorenzo landed flat on his back and groaned.
Dante took that short moment to bolt up and crawl to snatch Lorenzo’s blade.
Frantically he searched where he was sure the sword landed. It was nowhere to be seen except in the pale hands of Gabriella.
Using the sword as a crutch, she dug the blade into a crevice and forced herself to a standing position. The fire of determination blazed in her eyes, compelling her to stay strong. She set her jaw and looked straight into Dante’s eyes, sending him into blank shock.
Limping over to where Lorenzo lay, she raised the sword in her feeble hands; it wobbled a bit, and dropped out of her grasp. As it fell, she went backwards, weak from standing so long. The sword landed with a deafening crack as it went through Lorenzo’s arm with a crack.
A smile played on her lips and she closed her eyes. Blood trickled down her neck and down her dress.
Dante bowed down, tearing a piece of his shirt off in the process and wiped away the blood. She looked up at him with sad eyes as he blotted away the red liquid. “How?” he breathed, looking deep into her grey eyes.
She shrugged, wincing as she did so from her broken bones. Gabriella was more coherent now, so she was able to reply. “Lorenzo…is…getting…up.”
Dante reluctantly turned his head and saw Lorenzo.
Lorenzo slid the rapier out of his arm. His blood clung to the gleaming blade as he yanked it out with one fast movement. Blood gushed out of Lorenzo’s arm and flowed down his sleeve, soaking it and plastering his shirt to his body.
He clutched his arm, trying to stop the large flow. “Damn you,” he hissed maliciously at Gabriella.
Dante bounded up, fists clenched. He felt a small tugging on his tights. Looking down, he saw Gabriella shaking her head from side to side. “Don’t bother,” she mumbled. “His blade is poisoned. That’s why I held it up over his arm; to let the toxin spread gradually and agonizingly.”
Lorenzo glared with strong hate at the two. Growling at them, he dropped to his knees, and fell limply on his face.
Disregarding that Lorenzo had fallen, Dante took the sword that was lying on the ground and plunged the blade again and again and again into Lorenzo’s body, causing more blood to spurt out of his chest. 
Gabriella watched in horror as her love took out all of his anger on the corpse.
“Stop,” she calmed, trying to soothe his rage. He didn’t hear her, just kept ramming the blade into Lorenzo’s lifeless form.
“Dante!” she screamed, using the last bit of her energy.
He froze, grief- stricken at his actions. He crept slowly to where she lay and rested his head on her bosom. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, truly appalled at himself.
With weak and trembling hands, she placed them around his neck, caressing away all of his worries.
“Make love to me,” she whispered in his ear.
“We are not married,” he moaned, deeply wishing to fulfill her desire.
“Dante,” she murmured, “I would not live long enough for us to be married in time. So please…” she left the sentence go unfinished.
“Yes my love,” he breathed.

In the morning, they were both dead. It was said that soon after their passion, Gabriella died. Minutes later, Dante killed himself to end his misery. But right beforehand, he bound himself to her body and jumped off the side of the balcony, plunging into the frigid ocean below.
Together forever.