Welcome to

HEARTLESS.

I have been long obsessed with East of the Sun and West of the Moon, and Howl's Moving Castle. A good while ago now I came up with this: Heartless. A story inspired by both tales. And I thought... "Why not tweak bits so that it could fit a TMI fanfiction?" With Chasing the Sun over, tada! Here is your new story. Heartless most definitely has adult moments and situations in it. (Because since when have I ever wrote a story that has no sexytimes in? Lololol.) There is magic, there is romance, there is drama and even more drama. It's Jace with teeth and claws... for real. And I love this story, and hope that you do as well! So please, please review! It would mean so much!

Enjoy the prologue!

oOoOo

The stars were nothing more than silent sentinels as the figure cloaked in shadows slipped through the line of towering trees and into the castle grounds.

As quiet as the still wind, he hurried his pace. Soon he would arrive. Soon the Beast would return. Soon it would shed its weak human skin in favour of claws and fur. At sunrise the monster that haunted his - everyone's life - would return. At least, that was what the stories said. And there was always some truth in every story.

Jonathan's chaotic thoughts turned to Isabelle. When the Beast was slayed, and he was hailed a hero, she would have to accept his advances.

Isabelle was terribly beautiful. You're barking mad going after a piece of tail like that! his friends had said, punching his shoulder and roaring with mirth. Though Jonathan knew that they were the voice of reason, he still lost himself within those deep dark eyes. It was like she had captured the stars within them. They had bewitched Jonathan immediately.

Rows of bright white flowers lined the path. Small and delicate with heart-shaped petals that shone silver in the moonlight. I'll pick them, Jonathan vowed. After the Beast is vanquished and I am royalty, I shall gift her with an entire field full of them. Girls liked flowers, didn't they? Isabelle always seemed to sport a little pink starflower in her midnight hair. The white flowers he had found would look just as lovely, he reckoned.

Maybe the bouquet she would hold on her wedding day would consist just of them. Or her veil. Or train.

But first he had to bring back the Beast's head.

The blade at his hip didn't belong to him. It was a piece commissioned for the prince of Idris, but Jonathan figured that a hero like himself needed a sword that reflected his bravery. Plus, when he ascended to the throne, he'd need a fine sword to keep at his hip.

The servants quarter door was unlocked when Jonathan tried it. Arrogance, he sneered. He thinks he's safe!

And with that, the young blacksmith slipped inside.

None of the torches were lit. The entire castle was shrouded in a darkness so penetrating that it seemed to steal the very warmth from his breath. Jonathan wondered silently as he passed through the shadowy kitchen how he was actually going to find the Beast, let alone kill it. So many rooms and no light? It seemed next to impossible. Right now, it could be watching from the dark corners.

When Jonathan stepped into the vast ballroom, he stopped dead. Even though he was barely more than tiptoeing, the sound still echoed again and again. Heart hammering inside his chest and breathing uneven, he spied a warm golden light filtering out from beneath a colossal set of double doors.

This was it. The time to steel his nerves and become a legend.

Raising the blade, Jon took a step towards the door. "Think of Isabelle," he whispered to himself. "She will bear you beautiful children. And with your strength and brains, strong ones at that."

Jonathan threw himself into the room with a war-cry, sword held high and a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. The room was a library even larger and grander than the ballroom and its walls were lined with more books than he could count.

And right before him was the Beast. At least, the back of his golden head showed above the chair he was sat in. It shone like the golden statues set either side of the door.

"Visitors?" the figure in the chair suddenly called. It shocked Jonathan how young he sounded. "Or another man here for my head?" he sighed wearily. Jonathan watched him set down his book upon the table next to him; he didn't understand what the title said. He didn't read so well. After all, why did a blacksmith need to know how to read?

"From your silence, you must be neither. Or maybe you are a mere, desperate man? You are no professional assassin. Otherwise I'd be dead already. Do hurry up and decide what you're going to do, I'm really rather tired. And dawn approaches. You and I both know what that means."

Isabelle, he reminded himself. Then he charged forward with a wild cry and thrust his blade through the back of the chair and into the creature. He didn't stop pushing or let go until the hilt slammed against the back of it.

Time seemed to stop.

Jonathan sank to his knees, numbness spreading through him. He felt weak, shaky even. Done it. He had done the impossible and killed the monster. And it hadn't been quite as difficult as he had been expecting. Now, he was a legend. Now, he would be a king.

The sword clattered to the floor by his knees. Jonathan only vaguely noticed that there was no blood on the blade. Nothing at all stained the metal.

And then the sword moved, a slim hand picking it up by the hilt. Alarmed, Jonathan began to look up.

His blade was a flash of silver and nothing more as it sliced across his eyes.

"Count yourself lucky," the monster growled above him, though Jonathan could barely hear him over his own screams of agony. "You didn't see me. Therefore, you may live."

But Jonathan just screamed and screamed, scrabbling at his ruined eyes. And the Beast paid him no attention, reaching once more for his book.

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