Dead Inside (18+)

You pulled at the fabric around your neck, eyeing the man stood ordering a black coffee, trying not to meet his dissatisfied gaze. From the sleeve of your thin cardigan, you plucked a stray bit of lint as you pressed your lips together feeling the lip balm you had applied thin out, dryness creeping back across your skin. You were trying. Not like he would ever notice. Or care. That’s what you thought at least. Yet you still tried to get his attention, any kind of positive attention.

“Next.” The barista called you forward, offering you a warm smile, meeting your eyes. You gave him your order, thanking him before passing over your change. You didn’t even bother to check over your shoulder to see if the person you had come with was still there, or if he had retreated to a booth to sulk over his notebook because I’d rather, we just explore, this is a waste of time and money you should have eaten beforehand.

You had pestered him to get something to eat before venturing out in the summer evening to a local abandoned children’s hospital, and despite his protests Cain finally had to give in when you complained of low blood sugar after tripping over in front of him.

You sighed to yourself hearing the click of his tongue echo across your memory.

“Something up?” The barista asked as he plated up a slice of cake for you, passing it over the counter. “You seem glum.”

You shook your head. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“That’s good then.” His previous warm smile crept back over his face, “you’ve got a nice smile, don’t lose it.”

Your cheeks burned as you adverted your gaze, embarrassed at his flirting. It was one compliment, but it was enough to make you shamefully duck your head.

“Oh? Thanks. You as well.” You mumbled picking up your plate, but the barista was not done.

“You look nice. I assume you must be doing something special tonight, all dressed up? I hope it brings you some joy.”

“Oh!” Your cheeks burned, “Um, thanks. I’m not really… doing anything that special.” You said fumbling with the plate of cake. “To be honest I bet you might end up having a more interesting evening than me.” You laughed awkwardly as the words tumbled out of your mouth. The barista had a kind expression, and a warm disposition that was refreshing against Cain’s gloomy vibe, it was enough to perk you up just a little, and the barista noticed.

He laughed leaning in, “I doubt that, but maybe we can both find something interesting to do together later if you’re still bored? Just let me know, I don’t want to keep your friend waiting any longer for you.” As he said those words he pointed to behind you. Turning your head, you were surprised to see Cain standing behind you still, holding his black coffee with a very dissatisfied look on his face. Daggers pointed at both of you with his stare.

“Where do you want to sit?” He asked dryly.

You turned back to the barista, but he had already excused himself and got busy cleaning up mess from previous orders. “Window booth?” You asked feeling embarrassed he had been there the whole time, though you were not sure why.  Cain turned quickly heading to sit down, as you awkwardly followed behind. He slumped down into his seat, setting his drink down rather harshly causing it to spill slightly over the top, dripping down across the table. Yet, Cain paid it no attention as he set his familiar black notebook out in front of him away from the spillage and began his regular intense and abstract recordings. You gave a silent sigh, adjusting your skirt as you sat down, glancing out through the window to the world bathed in a rose-coloured glow. Your fork dug into the cake but for whatever reason you no longer felt that hungry. Just tired.

Time passed, not a lot of it, only a few minutes, and yet as every second passed you felt as if some force was pulling you away from Cain, who only shrunk away further into himself, his pen ever so slightly getting more and more aggressive as it scratched across page after page. Something told you there was a very intense conversation taking place in his head.

Maybe even an argument.

You dropped your fork onto the plate, finishing the last bite of you cake and braced yourself to hit a wall that you were still going to run towards either way. “So, you’ve already been to this place, right? What can I expect?” You forced a friendliness into your voice, scooting yourself to the edge of your seat and closer to the table. Of course there was no reply.

Yet.

“If it’s a children’s hospital, do you think the spirits would like it if we brought some toys, as like offerings since we’re going to poke around and such?”

“I don’t ‘poke’ around. Besides spirits have no need for material objects destined to rot in landfill when the building is inevitably demolished.” Cain’s voice was scratchy, like a record warped in summer heat. He still refused to look up from his notebook, and you knew better than to point that out.

“What about some sweets then?”

“Wasteful.”

“Come on, help a girl out here.” You teased, feeling yourself grow a little more comfortable as the awkwardness of earlier passed. “I want do the right thing when we go-“

“If you’re going to be this bothersome, I’d rather you just leave. I’m not going to hold your hand as if this is some novelty experience.” He was quick to snatch away from you that passing moment of feeling settled, his eyes flicking up to yours to take in the fading smile on your face, not even hiding the satisfaction caused from his spite. “Sorry if that makes me boring and this even less interesting for you.”

Clutching the edge of the table with both hands you ducked your head ever so slightly, something uncomfortable wriggling inside of you. “What’s your problem? If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

Cain dropped his pen on the surface of the table and sat up straight, crossing his arms. “Maybe.” He quipped, tongue razor sharp, defences up. Of course he was ready with them, having rehearsed them all before hand in his head in that imaginary argument you had predicted. I should have known better- wait. What were you even thinking? Why were you getting ready to bow to his oncoming tantrum? Cain continued, “Or maybe this was all just a last choice distraction for you until something better came along to take your interest.” His eyes flickered over to the side towards someone else. He lowered his voice “You’ll leave, I know it. Just like everyone else.”

“The hell are you even talking about?” Cain bristled at your choice of words, scowling, but you left no room for him to chastise. “If you’re referring to what I said to the barista I was just being polite. You should try it sometime.” You mirrored him, crossing your arms and leaning back. “God, why is everything an argument with you lately?” You muttered but he still heard. You had gotten along with Cain at the beginning, or well enough compared to the rest of the Hauntnet group, but in the passing few weeks he had seemed more irritated. Intense even. Very quickly he was beginning to swallow you whole with his moods, capturing you with his messages, locking you into chaotic hypnotic conversations that were breaking your perception of the world. While frightening, it was addicting, to hear his ideas, to receive his thoughts on yours no matter if he swung from being judgemental or validating. You had found him interesting at first but now it seemed you had become joined to him enough that you were seeing through to the sharper parts of his personality. And these sides, he only showed them you. He was gritty and intoxicating. And it was becoming a problem since you were letting yourself free fall into him.

“It’s not like that.” He said at last, chewing on his lip.

“I asked you if I could come with you tonight. Privately might I add, I haven’t even told the rest of the group chat we’re exploring you know.”

“That makes your flirting with him even worse-“ He cut himself off wincing as a painful silence settled over the two of you. He mumbled something quiet enough for you to not hear it, but you assumed it was a curse.

“If you think that I was flirting,” you said eyebrows raised, “then you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

Cain visibly flushed, his ears going red as he played with the metal cross around his neck unconsciously. “He was.” He accused.

“Him.” You said ignoring the unwarranted jealousy in his voice. “And why does it even matter if someone flirts with me? Just because you hate and ignore everyone doesn’t mean the rest of us are like that.”

“I don’t hate…” he paused. There was a word held at the tip of his tongue, but he was denying himself from admitting it, instead he finished his sentence by saying “I don’t hate everyone.” Cain’s voice had lost its edge, his fingers pressing harder into the edges of his cross as he rubbed its surface anxiously. “Look, we can drop it and get going-“

Now it was your turn to narrow your eyes and glare, “No. You said to leave. So, I’m leaving.”

“What, why?” He asked, his voice raising as he ever so slightly raised from his seat.

“Because I know enough about you by now to know this wont be the last attack I put up with tonight. Honestly Cain being your friend is exhausting so you know what, you win, I’m done.” You grabbed your things, ready to storm out. You walked away from the table without even looking back and ignored the faint sound of a regret filled apology fall from Cain’s mouth, trying to win back your attention. He doesn’t mean it. You told yourself. He’ll probably start calling me a ‘sheep’ soon, so I shouldn’t care.

What you didn’t see was the man you had left behind, still sat at the booth, staring at his notebook cursing himself as he flicked through certain pages, running his fingers over the letters of your name scribbled across the paper’s surface. Letters that had found themselves there these past few weeks without him even realising it.

The summer evening was cool; the sky had deepened into a dark red as the sun was almost done setting. You were thankful for your cardigan as the wind drifted over you, the peak of the heatwave having passed. The café you had made Cain stop at was a roadside stop, in the middle of a stretch of nothing but forest in between town and the abandoned hospital.  The nearest bus stop was going to be thirty-minute walk along the main road. And it would feel even longer considering how straight the road was, but you were thankful for it since it would give you time to process everything that had just happened.

The whole time you walked you felt the same uncomfortable presence of judgement loom over you, the same feeling you always had after a disagreement with Cain. The remnants of scrutiny. The forest trees to your side cast dark shadows over you, their rustling in the wind always sounded like whispers as of late. You shivered; the sun was gone now, and the world had been creeping you out as of late. Soon your legs began to ache as the road carried on aimlessly, how much further until the bus stop? You reached in your pocket for your iPod classic, pulling out tangled earbuds and plugged in to your moodiest playlist, ignoring the world around you.

An almost fatal mistake.

As you enjoyed the brief feeling of distance from the emotional ache settled in your stomach you cast your gaze to the sky, eyes wandering over the stars, having now emerged over a navy canvas. It was already too late before you noticed the frantic flashing of a cars lights as it swerved behind you. You turned your head, pulling an earbud out confused just as it approached you, fast, unpredictable and dangerous.

There was no time to swear as you closed your eyes, the breath leaving your chest while a pair of cold hands grabbed you roughly and pulled you into the forest at the side of the road. Your iPod tumbled from your pocked, smashing on concrete as your earbuds were fully snatched away from you by gravity as you and your saviour fell backwards into the trees. All while the car carried on without caution, swerving across lanes down the straight road at sixty miles per hour.

“Fuck.” You heard a familiar dry voice hiss, arms still gripping around you as he sat up. You could smell the familiar scent of his hoodie, the same kind of smell an antiques dealer had, and strangely it comforted you enough that you leaned backwards into his chest, feeling safe.

“Oh my God.” You whispered turning around to see Cain behind you, still holding you by the shoulders.

“Don’t put that-“

“You saved me.”

Cain was not about to show any pride however, he pushed you away from him when realizing how close you were and stood up, wiping his hands anxiously across his hoodie. “You fucking idiot.” He hissed. “Who’s dumb enough to walk away from oncoming traffic? And while not being able to hear anything. You’re so fucking lucky that I came after you.” His criticism may have been right, but damn, it hurt you to hear the words come from his mouth as he towered above you, who was still down in the dirt, fingers pressing into the earth’s dust.

“I’m sorry.” You pulled yourself up to his level, not looking at him. “Are you hurt?” Trying to not let your voice break, you knew Cain wasn’t sympathetic to tears, and it felt too humiliating to break down in front of him now.

He sighed, tutting. “I should be asking you that.” His voice was low, any trace of anger at your stupidity gone as he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry that was… harsh of me.”

Two apologies from him tonight, record breaking. And this one you could not chose to ignore. “What you said was true. I wasn’t thinking, it was dumb of me to be so careless.”

“No.” He shook his head leading you back out onto the now dead road. He picked up your destroyed iPod and handed it over, your fingers ever so slightly brushing. “I know this road better than you; I shouldn’t have let you walk alone. Or at least warned you. Idiots always speed down it since it’s so quiet and with the lack of street lights it can be a problem.”

“Yeah well, I stormed out. Neither of us planned for…” You trailed off shivering in the wind. For a summer’s night it was colder than usual. You pulled your cardigan closer to you and winced, feeling the cold air smooth over your back. “Shit I loved this cardigan.” You mumbled, pulling it off to see the big tear it had down the back and across the sleeve, probably from where you had fallen.

“You are hurt.” Cain said grabbing your arm unexpectedly, twisting your elbow towards him to look at your injury. You glanced over his fingers pressed into your skin, checking his expression for the usual signs of disgust at human contact. But surprisingly he only seemed concerned. It was weird.

“It’s only a graze.” You said pulling your arm from him, a little unsettled at the whole situation, shivering again. “I can clean it up when I get home.”

“I’ll walk you to the bus.” He said already moving ahead before glancing back and stopping. “You cold?” He asked noticing you shiver, clutching your destroyed cardigan, smashed iPod and tangled earbuds in one hand. “Here.” Before you could say anything he was taking off his brown hoodie and putting it over your shoulders in a rather gentlemanly manner. You had yet to see him uncovered by the thick fabric barrier in all the time you had known him. It gave you a chance to cast gaze over his slender torso, black and red striped top clinging to him tightly, an obvious size too small. His notebook remained clutched at his side.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I don’t tend to feel the cold.”

“Oh yeah.” You whispered, “I remember you saying when we first met at the fare.”

Cain nodded continuing to head down the road, you trailing behind watching his messy jet-black hair drift in the breeze and you had to stop yourself from staring. The two of you walked in silence for a while, the trees having ceased their whispering as well.

Suddenly you realised something. “Cain thank you.” You said feeling guilty it had taken so long for you to tell him that.

He did not look back. “Don’t worry about it, I did what anyone would do.” “That’s not what I meant, well, I am still appreciative of you saving me from being ran over, but I meant thank you for coming after me.” That caused him to turn and glance at you, and through the dark you could see his aloof mask slip just a bit from his face.

“I’m sorry. It was a stupid argument.” He said at last turning back. “I don’t want to lose you over it.”

“Lose me?” You asked.

Cain pressed his fingers into his palms, posture stiffening. With a hoarse voice he replied, “Yeah, lose a friend.” The words were forced, but also a warning to not pry further because something told you that he did not even know what the significance of that word meant to him. You were more likely to reach the conclusion of what he wanted before he himself even knew.

And it was becoming clear to the darkness at least, what he wanted was you.

The two of you arrived at a dimly lit bus stop, taking a seat you wished you had brought your flip phone, or watch if only to check the time. The bus came hourly this late, who knew when the next one would come. Cain promised to wait until you got on it though, he himself preferring to walk the long way back to town on his own for what ever reason. Perhaps you thought that it was because of you? Maybe he had had enough awkwardness for the day and wanted the familiar company of just himself for the trip back to town. Or maybe he would finish the adventure and go back the children’s hospital alone like he had done before. Soon thoughts of Cain swam around in your head, keeping you occupied while he returned to scribbling in his notebook until the engine roar of the bus reached both of you. The door pulled open as Cain closed his notebook, turning to you with a new, unreadable expression. His eyes glanced to the bus.

“See you on the node?” You asked.

“If you’re not giving up on me just yet.”

You shook your head. “I’ll give this back.” You said beginning to shrug his hoodie off from your shoulders, but he stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it, keep it, you can give it back whenever.” Cain took a step back, hands in his pockets, notebook resting on the bust stop bench as he chewed on his lip. “I’ll check the node tonight, if you can message to say you got home alright.”

You nodded taking a step towards the bus, Cain’s jacket still wrapped around you. “I will.”

A promise he would hold you to. Cain watched you grab a window seat on the bus as you put both arms through the sleeves of his hoodie, pulling it close to you. It was surprisingly soft. A sad smile tugged at his lips, as he watched the bus drive off after you waved goodbye to him from inside.

After

A muffled cry. Hand pressed to face, he growled, blood smearing skin. While it delighted him to watch his victim writhe and bleed while gagged and humiliated, it still physically disgusted him being covered in the insides of someone so inferior. How could the pathetic man in front of him even compare in the slightest to himself? He screamed in uncontrolled anguish followed by uncontrolled laughing.

Alistair gave a mocking grin as he took the blade to the man’s next vulnerable spot, drunk on the power of knowing there was nothing his victim could do but suffer in agony, unable to move. How long had it been since he had maimed another like this, really taken his time to push his victim to their limits? His most recent contracts had been so ‘clean’, in fact ever since he had been ‘rehabilitated’ after mentoring you he had gotten better at exacting control over his more violent impulses.

But then again, this wasn’t a contract target. This was personal.

Before

You sighed stepping in from the rain, the hit of warmth from the hearth welcoming you in from the dark, stormy night. The air buzzed with jovial amusement as patrons chattered loudly against the light music of a bard strumming away in the corner, while the clinking of cups chimed against the notes of laughing and cheers in celebration of the end of a blessed harvest.

You removed your soaked cloak, stripping from it to reveal your civilian clothes, and hung it on a hook by the door. Carefully you manoeuvred through the busy inn towards the familiar innkeeper who noticed you immediately. He offered you a kind nod and smile as you took up a bar stool resting on your elbows, leaning across with an intrigued look. Your eyes landed on something, behind the innkeeper, seeing his wife who was speaking to someone who’s back was turned to you. You took exactly three seconds to yourself to enjoy what you saw before shutting your selfish desires out and focusing on your current obligation. Work.

Pushing two coins across the bar towards the innkeeper, you requested a glass of blackberry wine, sweet and tart, perfect for a cold night. He nodded, swiping payment from the counter and headed to get you your drink, moving away just as another turned their head towards you, having heard your voice. Don’t look at him for too long. You reminded yourself as you locked eyes with the handsome innkeeper’s son, melting slightly at his boyish grin. He headed over towards you, chuckling as you took a deep breath in, keeping yourself grounded, balanced on the stool.

“Same room again my lady/sir?” He asked with a flick of his tongue, you rolled your eyes at his flattery, nodding you passed along ten coins his way, payment for two nights, exactly the same amount of time you always stay. He pocketed the coin and slipped you a room key, just as his father placed down the glass of wine in front of you.

“How are the roads?” The innkeeper asked as you took a sip. His son lingered by.

You shrugged, “busy, with the festival and all.”

He nodded, “Still, the best time for a merchant such as yourself to trade. You must have made quite a lot of coin passing through here.” He said, “We ourselves have, we’ve been full up for the past month.”

You gave a curious look as you noticed the innkeeper’s son look away biting his lip from your peripheral vision. “I see, then I must have been very lucky to secure a room tonight.”

“Yes…” The innkeeper said eyes flicking over to his son just a few feet away from him, “Lucky.” He left you to enjoy your drink, heading over to some of his other patrons to top up their glasses of ale while his wife delivered steaming pies to the tables of starving guests. You listened to the sweet melody the bard played over the crackle of the fire, your enhanced abilities picking up the splattering of rain against the windowpane. Focusing your attention, eyes closed while you paused over your glass you internalised that which was being fed to you by the people drunkenly spilling their thoughts.

“The Elven Emperor has a new wife, she’s rather pious apparently.”

“I heard Elven knights are gathering on the border of Burrowspire, not far past the mountains… I’d never sleep a wink if I lived near there.”

“The harvest this year has been cracking, the God’s must be pleased with us. I pray this means we will see less bloodshed from the Empire this year.”

“Didn’t you hear, someone went missing again near the base of the mountains.”

“I know, it’s frightening! I had to beg my young one not to go into the woods near there any more, when she protested I decided to finally tell her the stories.”

You smiled taking a sip into your wine cataloguing and compartmentalizing everything you were absorbing. Gossip, news, idle chat. All of it was logged deep within your memory. That was what you were instructed to do, so you could relay it back to your superiors at the sanctuary.

Being a follower and assassin of the Dark God Idol did not always mean acting as the blade in his hand, sometimes it meant information gathering, spying, stalking. Keeping informed on the outside world and your Sanctuary’s enemies then reporting back. And it had become a frequent duty of yours. So now you spent a lot of time travelling through the four nearest cities, staying for a few days at a time in the central most inns listening out for anything useful. All while posing as a travelling merchant selling the odd potion. This responsibility kept you on your toes, going from city to city, keeping inconspicuous while still blending in. At times you would be overloaded with information while at other times there would be a dry spell giving you little to feed back to the Crusader. But most importantly this duty came with a chance to play pretend, the space and solitude allowing you to cast off your hood as a murderer for a time being and pretend you were as normal.

Not to mention it gave you well needed distance from Alistair, who was less than happy you kept being saddled with this duty, conveniently whenever he himself was free from his own contracts. The Crusader, Tar, was behind it all of course.

“So lay on me the profits this time.” You were snapped from your focused routine of listening by the innkeeper’s son. You set your glass down, taking a small bit of parchment from your pocket and passed it to him. He whistled as he scanned the page. “You’ve sold out of everything. Your father will be pleased.” He said handing it back to you.

You nodded presenting a smile that suggested proudness. “I’ll heading home to him after stopping here for some rest, then it will be back on the road again once I pick up his next batch of potions.” You lied, playing the role of the alchemist’s dutiful child.

“You ever think about settling down though?” He asked trying to frame the question innocently, grabbing an already clean ale glass to wipe while he tried to draw something out from you once again.

You shook your head, “I like to travel, and meet all kinds of interesting people.” You downed the rest of your wine. You could feel the man hanging onto your every word, trying to not make his interest in you too obvious. You knew he yearned for two things, his own freedom and a companion to accompany him. Men like him were obvious.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He said sighing, “The freedom to go wherever you want, do what you want and be whoever you want to be. Not having to follow certain expectations. Why give that up?” He glanced at his busy parents running around the inn chatting with their regulars and performing as the beloved hosts that they were. He had placed the now even cleaner ale glass down and rested his hands on the bar opposite yours. Taking a moment to pause and confront the small, busy room in front of him, the room that would be his world for the rest of his life. “I’ve never even left the city… I’m never getting out of this place.” He murmured. Without even thinking you reached out and gently placed your hand on his, startling the both of you. What were you doing? But neither of you moved, instead the man in front of you moved his thumb to rub your hand in small circles. His touch was gentle and kind. It anchored you down in a sense of safety, growing within you a familiar feeling of innocent longing. Foreign to what you were used to.

“Milon you’re only twenty-eight. There is no time limit. You can do whatever you want.” You said feeling a pang of hurt.

“As, can you?” He challenged you, the same way he always did when he had a chance to pick your brain.

You faked a smile, “I already do what I want.” Another lie. In truth you were far more trapped within your life than he ever would have been able to image. And yet it did not stop you from feeling a sense of pity for him, empathetic to his plight locked within family obligations. Really it resonated with you, that’s why you made up the story about being an alchemist’s son/daughter, stuck to distribute wares across the land. That way when the two of you shared your private conversations over the bar counter and alluded to the chains of ‘family duty’ you could disguise the true context to what you meant.

Milon smiled rubbing his shoulder bashfully, giving a signature dreamy grin, the same one that had originally stolen your heart, although you would never admit to it. Casting your mind back to your first encounter, you remembered the way he had grounded you within a room full to the brim of people, your first time pretending to be the same as everyone else. Nerves had been wracking you, worried you would somehow give yourself away. And he had noticed, pausing from his duties of serving to take a seat opposite you to check that you were okay. Before you knew it the two of you were conversing long into the night, he even had managed to draw a few laughs from deep within your chest. Surprising you, once having assumed that your true sense of humour had died with your morality once you became a follower of Idol. But even after all of that, when he showed you to your room wishing you a good night, you had to ignore the speckle of hope that he had shown you. You simply told yourself that he did this with all the younger patrons, flirting with them to drive up business. And yet every time you came back, he remembered you, prioritised you. Watching out for your cloak to join the hooks at the door, to hear your voice request the same room again. Only to rush over and find some way to start a conversation, even at times ignoring other patrons. By your fourth stop at the inn, it was clear he had a crush.

But I don’t. I don’t like him like that. I cannot.

You felt the cold chill of paranoia at your back. Don’t even think about it. Don’t give ‘him’ a reason to suspect anything. You were unsure if you meant Idol, or the deadly possessive and obsessed assassin waiting for you to return to his side back home. Either one would not approve of your relationship with an outsider.

“I mean it when I say speaking with you lightens my day.” Milon breathed. “If you have time to spare tomorrow, perhaps we could take a walk around the city? I have some time off.” This was not the first time he had propositioned you with an invitation to spent time alone together. Another reason you had assumed he was just a hopeless flirt, sweet talking unsuspecting patrons to get what he wanted knowing they would leave the city within a few days and save him any further awkward interactions. And yet even though you had said no, twice now, keeping that image of him as a secret heartbreaker in your mind, he never stopped trying to appeal to you. Correctly sensing your inner longing to say yes.

“Milon,” you said reminding yourself of the rules, “I’d like to, but I can’t.” Taking a deep breath in you quickly pulled the first excuse that popped into your head. “I’ve got to forage for alchemical ingredients in the woods outside the city, it will take all day.”

“Then let me come?” He asked, hopeful, voice tinted with an ache suggesting desperation. “No offence but I probably know the woodland better than you, I’ll be of use, I promise.” You adverted your eyes making him frown, something you hated doing. “I swear I’m not trying to play you if that’s what you’re worried about. I know what you must think, I’ve worked it out since the last time we spoke, that I must charm patrons like yourself all the time. But I swear, I like you. Since the first moment we met you’ve had me enamoured. So, please Y/N.” He said making your heart spike, you shushed him involuntarily causing him to look confused and worried. You winced remembering how the first time he had asked your name you had been slightly intoxicated, feeling bold, you decided to give him a name. Something you had been advised by Tar to never do unless necessary, instead you should always aim to be a ghost, present but untraceable. And yet the alcohol had made you forget that piece of instruction and so stupidly you had decided in the moment that you should tell the attractive barkeeper your true name, not a made up one as you were meant to.

“Another glass please.” You said desperate to both distract him and your thoughts, passing more coin across the bar counter. Milon nodded wanting to move past the awkwardness, taking your glass and heading to top it up. As you waited you felt a sudden uneasy chill creep over you, knowing that you were walking a dangerous path. The fear of condemnation stood at your back as you waited for the knife to drop.

“I’m being paranoid.” You whispered to yourself. And yet your heart squeezed in on itself as the warning bells rang in your head. Detecting an unusual vibration spread out across the floor. Even amongst the boisterous inn and its drunk patrons, you felt it. The cautious movement of someone wanting to be unseen. Swivelling your head, alert you scanned the room, but you were unnerved by what you saw. Nothing out of place amongst the ordinary happy people. But a nagging feeling gripped at your chest. When Milon placed down another full glass of wine in front of you, you downed the red liquid in one swift motion, slamming the glass down and almost choking on its tartness. “I think I’ll retire for the night.” You mumbled getting up from your stool, catching Milon’s disappointed look.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He said as you headed up the staircase to the vacant rooms, feeling a shadow of dread cast over you as his voice calling your name echoed in your ear.

Clambering into the small bed, wrapping its scratchy cover around you, you felt sweat bead your forehead as you gave a long exhale trying to quell your anxiety. Perhaps it would be unwise to stay for the assigned two days. You were supposed to loop the city tomorrow and soak in any more useful information, but you could tell you would just be too distracted. And what if Milon followed you? Honestly, if the circumstances were different, you would probably have enjoyed his advances, but currently you were leading a lie over him and letting him get close was just putting you both in danger.

You felt your thoughts settle just ever so slightly, sleep being able to slip in, you were drifting off… Knock, knock.

You sat up startled, pulling the sheets to your body as someone continued to knock at your door. You stifled a breath. No one should be disturbing you, not even Milon would go as far to come up to your room while you were a patron. When you sat still, unmoving trying to assess what to do you heard the gentle tinker of the lock being picked apart. Forced open. Swiftly you jumped across the room, keeping quiet and held your body against the door, ear pressed to the wood. The lock picking stopped as you tried to work out the potential, size and threat of the other body across from you. Your powers as an assassin allowed you to sense that they were medium height, not too imposing, but as dangerous as you-

“Y/N?” A familiar woman’s voice whispered from behind the door. “It’s just me, I’m sorry if I startled you.”

You finally let yourself exhale as you quickly whipped open the door and pulled the woman inside. “Vivienne, what the hell are you doing?” You hissed, “I could have hurt you!”

Your friend Vivienne rolled her eyes, “I don’t know about that.” She took a seat at the edge of your bed, smoothing out the skirt she wore, leaning back, her dark curls falling away from her face. She ran a hand across the scratchy bed sheet. “This place is a dump. The beds are better at the Sanctuary.” Her voice was dry and monotone.

“It’s not that bad. Downstairs is nice.”

Vivienne gave you a look of judgement, “The Crusader really has you sleeping rough. There’s a better inn by the East gate of the city, higher class patrons, why is he having you placed here?” Here voice was hushed in case there was the chance anyone passing through quietly in the hallway outside could overhear.

“I don’t know, I just do as I’m told. Maybe you should question him.”  You had not meant to sound rude but the two of you knew it was a silly question to ask in the first place. Vivienne shrugged, leaning back and sighing. “What are you doing here Vivienne? You know we’re not to communicate outside the Sanctuary, it could be dangerous to give away our association.” This was a well-known rule that you recited knowing Vivienne did not need to be reminded.

Vivienne sounded bored, “I was actually just passing through. I’m staying overnight before I head back to the Sanctuary and I saw your horse stabled at the outside gate.”

“And you came looking for me?” You asked.

Vivienne nodded. “Oh Y/N I’ve been so bored on the road, my contract took so long, and I’ve been feeling so lonely. Plus, I missed you and the others.” Her voice had perked up back to the more familiar version of herself you knew, the one you were friendly with. “I knew you were likely on an information contract, so I took to investigating the cities’ inns until I saw you here…” Her voice trailed off. You suddenly realised you were right to have sensed a presence earlier.

“I didn’t see you.” You asked. “Were you watching?”

“Watching what?” Her voice dropped back again, cool and dry. “You and that handsome barkeep holding hands and staring dreamily into each other’s eyes?” She sounded accusing, sitting up and leaning towards you with a pointed gaze. She no longer felt like a friend. “I’ve not done anything wrong.” You said assertively, “I don’t know him other than seeing him here when I’m working-“

“And let me guess you’ve gotten close to him to aid your task of collecting intel?”

“You seem keen to pin something on me Vivienne?” You said voice stern before your gaze dropped, “I thought we were friends?”

“We are!” She said getting up from the bed, “I don’t want to see you hurt. That’s why I’m here to warn you about whatever it is that you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything!” “He called you by your name!” Vivienne said, her voice a little too loud. She bit her lip as you shushed her panicking. “Why does he know it?”

You looked away cursing yourself, “It was an accident…”

“Then he should be dead.” She said moving to find your eye, staring straight at you. “You know the rules. No outside relationships. Nothing that could jeopardize the Sanctuary.”

“It’s just my name.” You said defensively.

“But it’s not just your name, is it?” Vivienne cautioned, “It holding his hand and speaking with him as a friend, its being familiar enough with him that he has confessed that he likes you! I heard everything.”

“So, what I should just kill him, right? Wont that just make things worse? His death wouldn’t go unnoticed and then word will get back to the Sanctuary…”

Vivienne sighed, nodding, “Yes, you’ve left it too late now. Look I’m not judging you for living a life, but rules are rules, and we both know the worst possible scenario here is not getting in trouble with the Crusader, is it? What do you think he’ll do if he finds out you’ve made a fool of him?”

Your blood ran cold as all possible scenarios flashed through your mind. Vivienne was right, you could survive the punishment from the Crusader for being careless and getting too close to another, you could probably survive condemnation from The Lady. It would be the inevitable storm from Alistair, who would be merciless in his payback for even so much as daring to speak casually with another man, let alone flirt with one.

“When did you care about what Alistair does?” You asked trying not to let on to your nerves. “Furthermore, when did you care about our relationship?” Vivienne and Alistair never hid their contempt for one another; the law of Idol was the only thing keeping themselves from stabbing the other with a very sharp knife. And Vivienne had made her disapproval of you keeping at his side known time and time again, until finally she just gave up trying to understand why you chose to be with him. Of course, you could never tell her they why – that Alistair had good dirt on you that kept you under his control, always finding more ways to sink his claws into you trapping you in his possession. Vivienne always said she would be happy to see you cast him off, little did she know how much you longed to do so yourself.

“I’ve stopped caring. If you want to sleep with crazy, then you do you, but I at least don’t want to see you be hurt by him. Which is inevitably what will happen if he finds out, not to mention the chaos he will leave in his wake will impact us all.” She was not wrong, if Alistair was upset or angry he always made it everyone else’s problem, and if you were the cause, like after an argument with him, your fellow believers always seemed more resentful of you than him. It always felt unfair. “Besides,” Vivienne said sighing, wrapping her arms around herself and looking away shyly, “even amongst people like us, cheating... It’s just not right to betray another like that.” You noticed the genuine hurt in her voice, it softened your defensive posture, and guilt hit for the first time. It’s not like you truly considered yourself with Alistair, he may have thought so, but for you it was just the way the dice had rolled. It was not a choice but rather the way things had to be. Did that still make going behind his back with another any less terrible?

“I haven’t betrayed anyone.” You whispered. “I haven’t done anything wrong except flirt a little and it’s never gone anywhere. And that’s allowed within the rules of the Sanctuary.”

“Believe what you want, Y/N. I’m not going to meddle any further, but I am your friend, and I wanted to warn you only despair lies at the end of this pathway.” She moved to the door, twisting its handle and looking over her shoulder to you. “He’s handsome, and young, has his whole life ahead of him, right?” You tried to harden your gaze as she looked at you, genuine concern plastered across her face. You chose to ignore how sad she was making you feel, she truly was a real friend looking out for you. “So, don’t be unfair to him and lead towards pain.”

Vivienne left you alone in your room, closing the door behind her. You were cast in its closing shadow to stand and stress over the conversation you had just had, until fatigue gripped at you. As you fell asleep your last thoughts were the imaginings of Alistair’s reaction if he ever found out about Milon. Because deep in your heart you knew it was a form of betrayal, and he would make you pay for it, severely.

Your horse Sower trotted through the early morning dark, his hooves slashing in the remnants of heavy rain, eyes glowing as you guided him towards the mountain path that would take you home. You had snuck out of the inn at the break of dawn, leaving the key to your room on the counter in front of the sleeping wife of the innkeeper. You also left a note thanking them for their hospitality, but you had decided to go home early after all, they could keep the extra coin. As you wandered the road, your thoughts brought Milon to the front of your mind, much to your own frustration. You hoped your sudden departure did not cause him to be suspicious, the next time you were inevitably stationed there again would be harder to bare if things were awkward. Maybe your turning him down yesterday and avoidance of his confession might give him some closure, and he’ll move on to another by the time you next were in the city.

You had to ignore the sadness that thought brought you, while you wondered if your feelings of infatuation with Milon were similar to whatever Alistair felt for you. A deep ache for a hopeless and doomed romance.

The rule of relationships with outsiders had been ingrained with you, but of course there were loopholes. Acquaintanceships or dalliances were tolerated. You would not fall out favour with Idol for a surface level friendship or a one-night stand. In fact, many of your fellow believers frequented pleasure houses openly. It was revealed to you once that even The Lady herself used to enjoy her time there, before she ascended to a higher ranking within the Sanctuary as Priestess. It was an encounter in one of said houses where she ended up blessed with the child who now ruled your fate. All of that was permittable, so long as it did not endanger the Sanctuary, your fellow believers or Idol. Your brethren made sure not to see the same harlot more than twice in a row or made sure to give space in between visits to the local tavern where they may run into an acquaintance who had gotten used to their presence. So how was your relationship with Milon any different? You never sought him out personally, he just so happened to cross your path when you were working, and it’s not like you could ignore him. That would be suspicious. You squeezed Sower’s reigns, you had still revealed your true name to him, that would not look convincing in the eyes of your brethren. You had to let the thoughts of him go.

Climbing up the steep mountain path, Sower knew the way, heading in the secret direction towards the hidden and heavily guarded fort, protected by magical and ancient enchantments. You looked up at the sky; its warm morning glow casting you in the light, and yet you felt a chill. It was rare you felt the sun’s warmth any more. Since turning to a dark and bloody path the world had gone cold to you, even when the sun shone it felt as if its rays never truly reached your bones. Eventually you found yourself at the gate of the sanctuary, it lowering itself for you as above the orc, Drua, head Sentinel and protector of the Sanctuary’s security stood alert on the morning patrol. She gave you a nod, as your horse lead itself back to the stable and to the stall next to a formidable and intimidating mare. Alistair’s horse, Depraved. So, he would be here to welcome you back. You inhaled, ignoring Depraved’s wandering eye, never certain if the mare liked you or not. She was as equally protective of her rider as her rider was of you. The two made for quite a jealous pair. Topping up Sower’s water trough and feed you gave him some attention, letting him settle down with a carrot before heading back into the Sanctuary. Yawning as you crept through the stone corridors, you headed deeper within the structure that was built within the mountain peaks. However, despite your need to set your belongings down, you avoided your bedroom as well as the training room corridor. The two most likely places Alistair would be, and after the previous evening, seeing Milon, holding his hand, you were too scared to be around him just in case. Instead, you focused on finishing your task, seeking out the crusader who would no doubt be awake by now. Sleep never lasted long within these walls.

You found the Crusader, Tar in the library, enjoying a morning liquorice root tea over a stack of papers. He did not have to look up to know it was you approaching him, having memorised the way you walked by now in the time you had worked under him.

“You’re back early.” He said as his eyes continued to scan documents. “I calculated at least another day until you should arrive back.”

You kept your hands firmly stuck to your side, not knowing if he was displeased with you or just stating the obvious. “I felt I had heard enough from the last placement, there has been a lot of common gossip, and I wanted to get it to you sooner than later. I hope it’s okay that I made that choice.”

Tar finally looked up over the edge of his papers, his red eyes framed by white lashes checked you for something. “Are you alright?” He asked setting the papers down and giving you his full attention, “You seem tense, did something happen on the road?”

“No.” You said quickly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Tar eyed you, not with suspicion but concern making you swallow. He sighed, “Very well, have a report on my desk by the evening of everything you documented, I’d hear your findings now but I’m busy for the rest of the day and I’d like to focus.” You nodded excusing yourself; you had already written most of what you had heard down, usually doing so in the early morning hours before you would travel from city to city, so at least that cleared your to do list. “Saying that Y/N,” he said causing you to pause just as you got to the door of the library, “I’ll never be too busy if you need to talk to me. About anything.” You turned and nodded to him, not expressing anything else. As you turned to the door you felt the handle twist without your control, pulling open to reveal another standing in the gap. His amethyst eyes were locked on you before flicking to Tar who had begun to resume reading through his reports.

Alistair stood in the doorway, frown affixed to his face, voice low but cold. “When did you get back?”

You cleared your voice feeling Tar’s eyes flash over the two of you, watching intently. You did not need to give him another reason to be worried about you.

“Only half of an hour ago. Shall we go somewhere else?”

Alistair looked you up and down, unsure what to make of your tone, his eyes hardening as he watched Tar sip his tea, watching the two of you with full attention now. “Fine.” He growled.

Pulling you out into the corridor he led you towards the common room where the two of you could talk more comfortably.

“Why did you not come find me first?” He asked accusingly.

“I had a duty to report to the Crusader.”

Alistair only grunted in response. You had to be careful when mentioning Tar around him, never using his first name any more in case it set him off. After a while it became clear that even the insinuation of the Crusader was enough to upset Alistair. Another reason for him to cause chaos for everyone else to put up with.

“You’re sweaty.” You said changing the topic, “did you have a good morning training session?”

“Yes.” He said, voice low.

“How did you know I was here?”

“I went to check on Depraved, saw Sower.” His eyes flicked to yours as you rounded the corner to the common room, pulling out a seat you sat down enjoying the comfort after a morning of sitting in a saddle. Alistair headed to the kitchen to pour you both some water, placing it down in front of you as he took a seat opposite.

“You know I like to be the first to know when you get back.”

“I know.”

“Darling, I missed you so much.”

“I know.”

“I hate it when he sends you on these pointless information contracts. I think he does it just to keep us apart.”

“That’s not fair.” You said hurt, “Don’t label my duties as pointless. It makes me feel useless.” Alistair tentatively took your hand, his thumb rubbing you in a familiar way, your whole body stiffened.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “but you’re talents are being wasted. And while I love not having to worry about your safety, I get mad thinking about you all alone, bored amongst stinking drunkards.” You could not help but smile just a little, for he was not entirely wrong. And he noticed your reaction prompting him to tighten his grip on your hand, pulling you across the table to lean in towards him. Pushing a stray few hairs out of your face Alistair got closer. “Darling life is so boring when you’re not with me, I can’t put up with it when you’re far away. Thinking about you stuck amongst vermin… I just don’t know how you manage it. You’re too good for them, drunks and wenches who loiter in filthy, seedy taverns. I worry that they’ll taint you.”

“I keep to myself.” You said trying not to wince as he squeezed your hand and you knew you needed to change the conversation. “You said you went to see Depraved; shall we go to the stables? Sower could probably use a brush down-“

“No, I want you to myself, now.” Alistair whispered in your ear, lips gently grazing skin. “I’ve held back long enough, I could have had you then and there in the library, but he was watching. So, you’re not going anywhere.” He pulled your face in, rough and needy, lips pressing against yours as his tongue invaded your mouth, always dominating, always harsh. This is what he meant, a chance to pull you in and lock you into his touch. Stealing your breath was his current favourite thing to do. After a few minutes of being joined together he finally let go as you gasped for air. Wiping his mouth he smirked. “I’ll never grow tired of the feeling of your lips against mine.”

“I’ll never grow used to going that long without air.” You panted making his smirk widen at how he had your cornered.

“Then we better lock lips more often so that you can. Then we can go even longer. Practice makes perfect”

“Ugh.” You shoved him way making him chuckle, “You’re tasteless.”

Alistair kept himself joined to your hip for the rest of the day, taking full advantage of you being in-between duties to absorb as much of your free time as he could. All the while you fed into him for once, trying to give him no reason to suspect anything about your time away, amongst others who could ‘taint’ you. At one point you passed Vivienne in the hallway, having herself just returned to the Sanctuary. She gave Alistair one look before nodding her head at you, a promise she would not give you away.

She truly was a friend.

It had been months since you had last walked the city at the base of the mountains. Other duties had prevented Tar giving you an intel gathering contract. Instead, you had been sent to assassinate two different targets instead of posing as a travelling merchant. Not to mention you had spent an awful amount of time tied to Alistair who kept you near himself anytime he was within the Sanctuary walls. And during that time, he did everything he could to lock your thoughts onto him. Always trying to move your heart towards his direction, intent on making you fall as deeply for him as he had for you. And there was nothing you could do to escape him, resistance just made him try harder and harder. And with no good excuse that did not lead to pain, suffering and torture, you just had to endure his suffocating possessive obsession while he claimed you as his ‘lover’ and he yours. And in a way that endurance became acceptance, after all you shared his bed, locked mouths and were one of the only people to ever be able to freely converse with him. He let you glimpse a more vulnerable side, his way of giving you a slight bit of leverage. Even if you had not consciously chosen it, you were his lover now, even if you didn’t ‘love’ him. You still played the part enough that it had become real, whether you liked to admit it or not.

But once again amongst the midst of being ensnared in the Reaper’s arms, Tar assigned you to another information contract, sending you to the usual locations, picking out the best inns and lodgings where useful information would most likely be exchanged. A month is all it would take, not too long. You had set out heading the long way, avoiding the nearest city where you might run into Milon, leaving that possibility until last. Until eventually time passed and you had circled back, mountains ahead of you upon the horizon. You inhaled as you passed through the city gate, evening sun setting behind the rocky peaks. You checked the list Tar had given you again, having already looked at it a dozen times, but the answer always remained unchanged. The same inn that housed the handsome barkeep was always your placement. You crossed your fingers unconsciously, let there be no rooms there tonight.

Passing through the door into the dimly lit inn you were met with a quieter atmosphere than the previous time you had taken up lodging. There were quiet groups of older men dotted around, a few lovers in their pairings. There were also a sparse few loners, enjoying a solemn meal, poking at their food slowly. Except one, a woman sat smiling as her eyes drifted off into space. She looked trapped in bliss. Approaching the bar and shedding your hood you met the innkeeper with a smile.

“It’s quiet.”

“Aye, always is this time of year. It is also early; more people will come in once the dark casts over the city walls. Then we’ll be tightening our belts ready for a rush.” He chuckled, unbothered by the quietness. You chewed your lip glancing around uncertain you would hear or notice anything of use tonight. It was off putting and meant only awkwardness was in store. Perhaps you could just hide in your room and try again tomorrow. Exchanging the usual rate for your lodgings the innkeeper set you up with your usual glass of wine, this time the seasonal fig and grape. Low and behold as he set the glass down in front of you his handsome son emerged from the kitchen, immediately noticing your presence. He paused, stopping where he stood before ducking his head and delivering a small package to a woman of similar age to him in the corner. You caught her laugh, thanking him by name. An unconscious undesirable feeling of jealousy twisted inside of you as you ever so slightly twisted your head, checking in your peripheral vision. Milon stood in front of the woman who had risen from her seat, she was pretty and genuine. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he bent down to kiss her on the cheek.

Your chest knotted, something like nausea choked at the back of your throat while the room began to sink, pulling you down with it.

You adverted your gaze as you pushed away your wine glass, suddenly losing your appetite. You listened out to the sound of her boots against the wooden flooring, waiting for the door to close behind her all while staring into the dark purple liquid within your glass. You hardly noticed Milon appear before you, pulling the glass away.

“If it’s not to your taste I can get you something else?” You shook your head, forcing a smile on your face, trying to mimic the sweetness you had seen on the other woman’s face earlier. But you knew from the reflection in his eye you hardly measured up.

“I guess I’m not as thirsty as I thought.” You said taking it back from him, “But I’ll finish it and retire for the night.”

“Been busy?” He asked, and you noticed an awkwardness within his voice. “It’s been while since you’ve been through the city.”

“Really? Feels like I was here not long ago.” You said trying to sound casual and alleviate the tension.

“It’s been three months since I last counted, unless I just missed you?” Milon let himself show disappointment, which you warranted he had no right to considering he had just said goodbye to an obvious sweetheart. Had he really been keeping count of the months?

“She seemed nice.” You said meeting his eyes with slight interrogation then taking a long sip of your wine. “Don’t worry I still believe you from when you said that you’re not out to charm patrons. I hope the two of you are happy.” Your wine disappeared as you downed it, throwing another two coins on the bar, nodding at your now empty glass. Milon snatched it keeping level with your eye. The air felt tense, your body stiffened as the room shrank enough that it felt as if it were only the two of you present. Restless you played with the topaz pendent necklace around your neck, forgetting where it had even come from.

Milon placed down the wine in front of you. “Will that be all?” He clearly was holding himself back from saying something, you recognised the sense of control of guarding one’s tongue. And then suddenly you realised the weight of what was happening. This could be your chance to end your acquaintanceship with him, and inside you knew doing so on a bad note would only leave you filled with regret.

“Milon I’m sorry, that was unfair of me.”

He sighed, grabbing a set of beer mugs his mother had just cleared up from a table, “Its fine, I can see how it must have looked to you.”

You nodded, “You did tell me that you ‘liked’ me the last time we saw one another, I suppose I just regret not having a chance with you after all.”

“Well, you didn’t say anything then and the next day you left early, and I didn’t see you for months. Time gave me the chance to move on; I meet lots of people who come through here including Meredith.”

That wasn’t the chance you meant really, but it was good cover for the darker truth. You sighed, knowing it was time to let him go. “I know, I’m a fool and I let you get away. But I meant it, she seems nice.”

“Thanks.” He said, pausing for a moment, “Still…” He leant over the bar’s surface, checking over his shoulder for either of his parents before whispering to you, “I won’t take what I said back. Because of you I’ve finally decided to get my life together.”

You gave him a curious look, feeling his warm breath on your face as you mutually leaned in, for a brief moment forgetting where you even were. “What do you mean?”

Milon took a step back, his dreamy smile etching his face and with a shrug he looked away shyly, “I took inspiration, I’ve started making plans and I’m getting ready to get out and see some of the world.”

You raised your glass to him, “Congratulations. What’s first?”

“I’m thinking parts of the Eleven Empire.”

“That’s bold, I heard the military have been restricting passage across the border recently.”

“Yeah, well if I’m going, I’m going big. Perhaps I could show you my plans back at my place? Get a seasoned traveller’s insight.” 

“Your place?” You asked finishing your second glass, “you mean upstairs?” You nodded with your head to the staircase, knowing that Milon lived in the attic above the inn rooms, while his parents resided in the basement underneath.

He surprised you by shaking his head, “my parents got tired of me moping around, so I moved out. I rent a room in the Narrow quarter.” He surprised you even further.

“Brave. I’m surprised your parents agreed to that; it’s not the safest part of the city, is it?”

“Only for those with possessions worth taking.” He lied, and you knew it. Every city has a rogue district, a black market. The Narrow quarter was not at all unfamiliar to you as a follower of Idol, it was dangerous, even for someone who had known the city all their life as Milon had.

“Still, don’t put yourself in harm’s way. I’d be sad to hear you were injured.”

“Don’t baby me.” Milon whispered as he stalled, chucking the cloth over his shoulder as he watched the busiest table of patrons leave into the fresh evening darkness. “It’s going to be a quiet night.” He sighed. “Perhaps you do want to see where I live? And I can dispel from you any notion that I am unable to look after myself properly.”

“Leaving with me? What if your sweetheart comes back and sees us? That wouldn’t be fair.”

Milon shook his head, anxiously glancing at his mother who was serving one of the last remaining patrons. “Admittedly we’ve only been courting for a few weeks, and only because my mother encouraged it. Says I’m getting older, I need to think about settling down with a family soon. We’re not elves, we don’t have a lot of time to live.”

You understood what he meant there, a young healthy man in his mid-twenties without a spouse? Uncommon amongst mortals. You stood up from your chair, “Very well. And then I can see you off one last time before you make this big journey across the lands. Can you leave now?”

He smiled, quickly checking with his parents who nodded without word. You noticed the way his mother looked at you, she was sad. Even sadder when her eyes flickered to her son’s face, knowing that whatever he was after was likely hopeless.

It seemed she had at least figured you out.

You walked in the fresh darkness of nightfall side by side, shivering in a soft breeze, your cloak wrapped around you. Milon assured you there was not much longer to go as you walked down the narrow streets of the Narrow quarter. You tried not to meet any wandering eyes of passerby’s, just in case there was a familiar face from your line of work who might recognise you. Eventually you arrived at a small squat building, two stories high. Outside stairs took you up to the upper room where Milon had come to reside. Unlocking the door, you followed him inside, forgetting to check over your shoulder.

His room was small and dark, with only one window. A small bed sat in the corner opposite a hearth with cookpot. A washtub was under the window while a small table and chair took up the space in the centre of the room. Upon it was a large map of the immediate continent, little red pegs pinned across it. Across the floor lay notebooks all scribbled in with various lists. Milon stretched out his hand as you shed your cloak, taking it and hanging it on a hook nailed to the wall by the door. He then turned to the fireplace, striking a match above leftover kindling.

“It seems redundant, but would you like another drink?” He asked. You shook your head, declining politely. Stepping over to the table you ran your fingers across his map checking all his target areas. Burrowspire, Mayvale, Ethernhall and the Gilden City. All holds within the Elven Empire. They were said to be some of the most beautiful and oldest settlements in the world.

“I mean no disrespect, but this will be quite a trek for someone who’s never left the city.”

“I know.” He said with a warm laugh, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “They’re actually just hopeful goals, I’m going to start smaller, focus on the nearest three cities here.” You couldn’t prevent the sigh of relief that escaped your mouth. “Perhaps you could give me some advice about travelling in the area?” You gave him a look, thinking of what you could say, but you must have looked nervous. “Don’t worry I’m, not trying to pressure you to accompany me. This is something I have to do alone anyway.”

“It’s not that! I was just thinking of what to say!” You defended yourself as he chuckled. You took a seat on the one chair he owned.

“Well?” He asked hopeful.

You gave a shaky sigh, “Go anywhere, it’s beautiful out there.”

“But?”

“But stay away from the mountains.” You warned before quickly adding, “they’re too dangerous to climb, not worth it in the long run.” “I know, I know,” Milon shook his head, “I’ve heard the rumours but wouldn’t the path across be quicker?”

You shrugged, “They journey around them is more scenic.” You stretched your legs out, feeling your muscles relax just a bit. You enjoyed how normal this all felt, being amongst someone normal, someone innocent. Talking about life and dreams. It made you forget that you had no dreams of your own any more, for they all belonged to the Dark God.  But being in front of Milon, it made you forget that. All for a brief moment. As well as your earlier decision to end things for good with him. Vivienne’s warning could not reach you now.

“What were you ‘moping around’ about anyway?”

Milon sat up, giving you a flirty look, nervously playing with his fingers, “You.” he whispered. “You really messed me up after that night.”

“I’m sorry.” You stood up and headed over to Milon, sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. The familiarity in his words knocked you in your gut, as another familiar voice echoed deep from within your mind, what have you done to me?

“My plan was actually to travel the lands in hopes of crossing paths with you. But something held me here, it didn’t feel like the right time to go yet. And I was right. If I had left, we wouldn’t be here now.” He brushed hair from your face, getting close once again. The hairs on your arms spiked up, as you felt a buzz cross over you in excitement at his proximity, it energised you. Milon took his arm and brushed it down yours as you took his free hand. Pulling you in he landed a soft kiss on your lips. Tender, caring and shy but full of hope. You pulled back unable to control the smile across your face. The world around you stopped, time was still while the two of you were hidden in this room. You knew this would be the last time you would see him, your desire to say goodbye fought to remain your choice, but that did not mean you would not allow yourself to enjoy the moment. It was pulling you back into a life you once thought lost. You were being transported to the version of you that once was repulsed by bloodshed.

Milon’s hand worked up your arm and grazed across your collarbone, playing with the fabric of your shirt. As his hands explored your neck, he felt something small and hard, pulling at your collar curious, all the while locking lips with you once more before he pulled away.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t sure what I was touching.” He apologised. You were about to brush it off when you noticed how his eyes had latched onto something that had soured his expression. In his hand he held the topaz pendent that always seemed to adorn your neck. You hardly ever remembered putting it on any more, where had it even come from? His fingers traced an inscription written across the silver backing of the yellow jewel.”

“’My love?’ What does that mean?” Milon asked nervously. You peered at the necklace. Truthfully you weren’t sure until a painful shock across your head sent with it a memory of recognition.

“That’s right.” You whispered trying to snatch the necklace from his hands however his grip was strong and you heard the snap of the chain as it fell down from around your neck. Panic set in. How could you have forgotten who had given you this? It was basically their way of marking you as theirs, and to have it damaged would surely raise unwanted questions. Milon looked at you both suspicious and reserved. You cleared your throat, “It was from my late fiancé.” A technical truth in a way, remembering how you had come to wear this piece of jewellery in the first place. He still had it in his hands, turning it over between his fingers. You watched for his reaction, more scared of what he would say than of any other possibility now. The peaceful moment had ended, and reality was hitting you hard.

“I still want a chance with you.” He said finally, tossing it on the bed covers before looking at you with a look of kindness. “I want to know you and I want to change my life. And I’m convinced this is the first step, you can’t tell me otherwise.”

But that fleeting moment of hope he had given you earlier, that there may be a happy ending in all of this was long gone, you pushed his arm away as he brought it towards your cheek, standing up and taking a step back.

You cleared your throat. “I’m sorry Milon.” You said trying your hardest to make eye contact, but failing at the last second like a coward, “I can’t give you what you want. Nor can I be who you want me to be. But I think you should travel the lands, and I also think this will be the last time we see one another.”

Milon was already shaking his head. “Y/N please, you don’t mean that? Have I done something wrong?”

“Nothing. You have done nothing, but I know in my heart that we are not meant for anything more than a fleeting romance. Go past the walls and find yourself someone better, someone who equals your worth.” Without further elaboration your swiftly turned and headed to get your cloak, reaching the door. You turned to face the heartbroken man behind you. “I will probably leave early again tomorrow, but it’s not because of you. Good luck out there.” You pulled the door handle emerging into the cool night air however Milon caught you by the arm.

“Y/N, wait!” he shouted much to your dismay, but before you could tell him to lower his voice, he planted his lips on you one more time, embracing you in a passionate and tender kiss under the night sky for all the stars to see. When you finally pulled away, there were mutual tears in your eyes. You wiped them away, breathless, adjusting your cloak, you walked away from him for the last time.

After

The black-haired assassin paced back and forth as the body lay unmoving on the bed, however his eyes were wide open, frantically scanning the room. A moan gurgled from his throat.

“Shut it.” The assassin hissed. “If you’re not going to confess then I don’t want to hear a thing.”

“We didn’t. We didn’t. I swear it!” His victims whimpering turned to sobs as the assassin landed another kick to his torso. He was being purposely gentle, knowing too many hits would break a bone too early into his interrogation and yet the man cried in agony from the impact.  

“Shh! What did I say? If you’re too loud then I’ll go to mother and father and make them talk instead.” The man whimpered, shaking his head, the only part of his body not under the assassin’s influence. “Quiet now, or else.” The assassin threatened. He grabbed the paralyzed man’s hair at the scalp yanking him upwards, feeling his nails dig into skin. “You touched them! I saw the two of you kiss. You’re really going to lie to me and tell me you didn’t fuck them in this bed?”

“I- I did- didn’t-“ He stammered through sobs. The assassin slammed his head back down. Spitting on him.

“Pathetic.” The sound of a freshly sharpened blade being unsheathed echoed across the room. “I’ve tried to be diplomatic long enough, let’s see if you’ll own up to it once you’ve lost a few fingers.” Before his victim could beg or scream Alistair gagged them with a rag. This may be a seedy neighbourhood where people minded their own business, but guards were still known to patrol occasionally during the night. “When you’re ready to confess,” he smirked bringing the knife to the man’s neck, “just nod three times.”

Now

The early morning came, and you awoke, having packed your things ready to head back the sanctuary. The regret of the previous night lay thick upon your conscious, but you chose to ignore it along with the many corrupt choices you had made across your life so far. As you headed downstairs you found the inn vacant except only the innkeeper, who had awoken earlier than you to get work done.

“Before you go, this was left for you during the night.” He said, passing you a sealed note. “Who left it?” You asked wary as you took it from him.

“Not sure, seemed like a beggar perhaps.”

“When was it left?”

“A couple hours ago, so the fourth hour of the morning? It was what awoke me, his banging on the door.”

You hid the alarm on your face, “I’m ever so sorry then.” Excusing yourself, not wanting to be a burden to the man for much longer, you bid the innkeeper goodbye. Heading out into the quiet morning street, still cast in pre-sunrise darkness you navigated the cobblestone. As you walked you opened the note, recognising the paper from the previous night. On one side was a list of settlements within the Eleven Empire, on the other was a note written in a deep sanguine script.

You forgot your pendent. Come collect it.

You rolled your eyes, of course you had to have forgotten something so important. And there was no way you could just abandon it, Alistair would be outraged not to mention it left a perfect trail for him to follow to find the man you had betrayed him with. It was just a kiss. You had reminded yourself of that all night, despite the fact it was actually the want, the desire, the pursuit that kept you awake with guilt and fear. Cursing yourself you headed towards the Narrow Quarter, frustrated at the delay in your plans. Milon was no doubt using this as an excuse to see you again and probably try to change your mind, it was too good of an opportunity that was for sure, you couldn’t blame him.

Climbing the same stairs again to the second floor of the building you reached his door, standing on his porch under the setting moon. Knocking gently on the door you waited for him to come open it, knocking again after several seconds of silence. Perhaps he had fallen asleep, but then you had warned him you would be leaving in the morning. That’s surely why he had paid a beggar to deliver the note so early-

Wait. Something was wrong. Why would Milon send a beggar to deliver a note to the inn his parents owned, an inn he surely still had a key for? You knocked more frantically this time, your heart beginning to race, until you tried the door handle. It effortlessly pushed open as the door widened, you almost falling through its gap unprepared.

And then you smelt it. Blood.

Your heart hammered in your ears as your mind grew dizzy just as you glimpsed whatever it was that lay mangled on Milon’s bed. No, not whatever- whoever. And truthfully you already knew who. You screamed falling to your knees as you searched his corpse trying to piece together just what he had suffered. Mutilated parts of his body were cast across the floor, his bedsheets still dripping, saturated with his own bodily fluids. He had been castrated, the remnants of his appendage shoved into his mouth that stretched out across a pale face. A haunting face. The expression of a body pushed to the furthest places of pain was all that was left. You had led Milon to a fate worse than death. You knew the torture must have been, long and brutal.

His body lay surrounded in the dark by candles lit illuminating the room, golden flames flickering against freshly stained walls dripping red. The door swung shut behind you from an enchanted force, the lock clicking. Through the thick stench of blood, you could taste trace amounts of burnt embers and citrus in the air. Your eyes wondered across the floor, following bloody footprints to see the culprit of this vicious crime. He was sat relaxed on Milon’s sole chair, legs spread, leaning back, head tilted. His eyes obscured by his damp hair, slick with sweat and blood. Still on the floor, your legs weak, you could only look up at him, cowering under the sadistic inhumane grin spread across his face. His teeth dripped with blood. He lifted his arm and chucked the topaz pendent across to you, it landed back side up, its romantic inscription staring accusingly at you.

“And this whole time I assumed you must have been bored out here. But it seems you’ve been more than satisfied- look at me!” He yelled standing up from the chair towering above. His tone frightened you, never before had you seen him like this. This was not just Alistair about to throw a tantrum, this was the wrath of the Reaper, and you were before him ready for sentencing.

“Alistair.” You whispered, shaking.

“Yes, say my name.” He spat, “Say it because you know it makes me fall for you, oh what a fool I am! How dare you make me a fool.” He crouched down next to you, roughly pulling you by the jaw to look into his eyes, glowing alight with a fury you had never seen before. It took this one look for you to understand that he was right, you had done this to him, pushed him this far.

“You followed me?”

“I came to visit you.” He growled, “At the inn, I saw everything, from his flirtations to him leading you here. I saw you go in and come out before kissing him.”

“Nothing else happened.” You said wincing as his grip on your jaw tightened, you hated how he had you under his control, at his mercy, “It was only a kiss. And I was ending it-“

“Ending it?” He asked accusingly, “Oh darling, I already know all about your little affair, he told me about every encounter the two of you had. You’ve been talking to him for months; you even gave him your name! So not only did you betray my love for him but the security of your family.” He pushed you to the ground stood up, walking over to the corpse he had disfigured, wrenching free the blade he had left embedded in the cadaver’s neck. Yanking it out he wielded it towards you as you unsteadily crawled onto your feet. Could you defend yourself if he came for you? Or would it be better to accept defeat? But then again Alistair was not likely to give you a clean swift death, rather he would be testing your endurance in all the cruellest ways possible until he had you screaming his name, screaming for mercy. Begging for him to forgive you, please will you forgive me, I swear I will never ever betray you again.

“The worst part of it all,” he said taking a steady step towards you, “is that you let him touch you.”

You shook your head, denying it, “he didn’t, we kissed and that was it.”

Alistair laughed, the manic strain in his voice a juxtaposition with the laser focus he had on your movements. “He said the same thing. Both of you are such liars!” His voice raised into a shout as he shook from anger. “Damn it, why aren’t I enough!” His scream was raw and painful, and it made you flinch, cowering from him. He marched over, tears beading his eyes, face contorted in agony as he grabbed you by the shoulders. “Why do you do this? Why do you fall for anyone that isn’t me?” In his grasp he shook you repeatedly, as if doing so would cause a satisfying answer to tumble out of your mouth, but no words would come, your voice had dried up. He continued rambling manically, “I got so lonely waiting for you here, I kept thinking that if bled more and more then it might distract me from the pain you’re putting me through.” You felt his dagger’s blade flat against your back and gently your eyes wandered over him, concerned, though you had no right to be.

“What did you-“

Alistair pulled his shirt up to reveal his torso, dried flakes of blood caking around red engravings across his stomach. Your name carved across his skin. They were not healing themselves, he really must have been mad, wracked with pain because of you to do this to himself.

“I want to hurt you so much, like you have me. Is that what you want?” He asked tears streaming down his face, he looked so heartbroken. Defeated. A stark contrast to a few moments earlier when he had been at his worst. You had broken him, truly ruined him. “Do you want me to forsake everything I have built during my life, my devotion to my God, my reputation, my love for you?” You tried to steady him as he began to hyperventilate in between words, but he pushed you away. “If I hurt you, if I kill you then that means I must love you more than Idol, right? If I’m going to betray his rules I have to know if you’re worth all of that, tell me- did you touch him?”

“We didn’t have intercourse; he didn’t even touch me. It was only a kiss, I swear Alistair, and I’d do so at the feet of The Lady, or even Idol!”

“He held your pendent, that’s how I know he was close enough to touch.” He said wiping his face with one bloody hand before picking up the discarded topaz pendent from the floor, holding it up. “I’ll always be able to sense if someone else touches it. Someone other than myself.”

“He only looked at it… wait,” You said pausing, “What did you mean ‘sense’, did you enchant it?” Alistair ignored you, his eye zoned in on the pendent as it swung back and forth like a pendulum. “Alistair!” You shouted trying to snap him out of it. He looked up, angry before throwing the pendent at you.

“I’m glad I did. Although I never would have imagined it would have led me to this.” A smile came back as he sinisterly took his arm to stroke your head. “And when I saw him, holding it after you had gone, as if it were his… Want to know what I did to him then?”

He grabbed you by the hair yanking you towards the bed, “No! Stop it Alistair!”

“Save your begging for later darling.” He threw you towards the filthy bed, causing you to stumble and bang your head on its wooden frame. Looking up you could see the remains of Milon, the smell alone told you all you needed to know. Alistair crouched down next to you, mockingly grabbing you again by the jaw, his nails etching your skin with their imprint. His breath, hot, fanned your ear.

“First, I paralyzed him from the shoulders down, his disposition was so weak it was easy. And then I interrogated him, removing a few fingernails look-“ He picked up something bloody from the floor and held it in front of you face while you grimaced, struggling to get out of his impossibly strong grip. “And when he wouldn’t confess to fucking you, I started to remove limbs, and I guess I just had so much fun hearing the noises he was making. Every knife wound, your face flashed across my mind, the thought of you and him, it spurred me on.”

“Stop it!”

“I took my knife, and began to flay and skin him alive, there was so much blood.” He rasped, disgusting you, he was enjoying re-telling this story. “I hope you don’t mind but I’m keeping a finger, its just not fair he got to touch you. I solely claim that right.” Alistair was close enough now you could feel his lips on your ear, his voice vibrating against you in a low electric shock. “Then I just kept carving away, looking for it.”

“Looking for what?” You whispered your eyes pinned to Milon’s bruised and tattered skin.

“Whatever it was that made you fall for him.”

Your voice quivered, still staring at the body, desiring nothing more than to lay a thousand apologies at the corpse’s feet. “Milon-“

“That’s not my name.” Alistair snapped, yanking your head again. “Don’t ever say his name, or any other mans in front of me again.”

You gritted your teeth, the pain he was projecting, starting to eat away at your remorse leaving you with your back against the wall. A defensive feeling beginning to show itself, getting sick of his psychological torture. You grabbed the arm locked on your jaw, gripping tightly forcing it away. You pushed Alistair, hard enough he lost his balanced while crouched, sending him down so he was on your level, leaning against the bed frame.

“I never asked to be ‘yours’.” You said, forcing conviction. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you, but this wont get me to fall in love with you.” You exhaled, feeling a small part of a weight release from your chest, a knot beginning to untangle. Alistair leaned back, pressing his hand against his chest, a ghost of a chuckle escaping his lips. He still kept a twisted smile.

“I don’t need to you to fall in love with me. Not anymore, I can do without the reciprocation. It will almost kill me, but I’ll survive.” His arm slowly snaked its way towards you. “I just need you to be mine.”

“Don’t!” You were too late, Alistair lunged at you, pushing you over, slamming your back into the hard worn wooden floors. You struggled to get away from him as he climbed on top, but with one single arm he had both of yours pinned. Then his dagger came back out. He held it to your neck as you struggled to breath comfortably. He smirked when you tried to kick him, but he was just too heavy. He brough the dagger to your stomach, using it to lift up your shirt, tip pressing into skin.

“I want you to remember my name only from now on.”

“You’re vile.”

“I know.” He smiled as you felt a ringing cast over your body, your eyes flicked down to the dagger. Enchanted, much like your pendent. Alistair let go of your arms, no longer needing to stop you from squirming. All you could do was lay motionless, screaming on the inside as he spent the next long tortuous hour carving his name into every clear inch of your skin all the while he soaked himself in your blood. Once he was done, he cradled you in his arms sighing in deep relief.

“Say it.” He whispered.

You choked in disgust feeling his body, hot and heavy on top of you, “A-Alistair.”

“I’m all you’re going to know from now on my love. Just me.”

“A-a-Alistair. Alistair.”

Your body ached and burned as he hugged you tighter and tighter, finding comfort in the way you stuttered his name, delirious, unable to stop. The two of you lay this way, for the rest of the day. Milon’s rotting corpse the only thing to keep you company. No one came to save you.

Alistair had you wait until the following night, where he pushed you through the city gates, making you hide in the shadows while he retrieved your horses. You knew better than to run, he had made it clear what kind of punishments would be in store for any further disobedience. He had you ride atop Sower yet held your horses’ reigns while leading you up the mountain path towards the Sanctuary.

“And when we get there what are you going to do?”

“Stay by your side.”

“And what if you’re told to leave me.” “I refuse.”

Layton slithered out from a hidden crack in your kitchen wall, listening to you lock the door before walking away, heading out for the day. In between the walls his hivemind kept track of you, checking that your footsteps made it out of the building, and not back towards where the ghoul who was stalking you stood. Layton inhaled the fading scent of your presence, the sweetness of your skin imprinting on the space around him, it set his hunger on edge. Sure, he could come here anytime now since he was your boyfriend, but there was always something special about breaking into your private spaces without you knowing. Able to go through your things at his own pace. Able to defile them.

Trailing a hand across your table, he picked up your forgotten sunglasses, running a finger over the lenses, all smudged. He thoughtfully wiped them clean with the fabric of his shirt before placing them back down, his attention turning to the clothing rack sporting freshly washed clothing of yours, still damp from the machine. He blushed noticing the delicate items hidden at the bottom, hoping to see you wearing them in front of him soon even if it was when he was watching you through the cracks in the walls. But he knew better than to get ahead of himself, you’d become suspicious if the clean pairs got spoiled.

Layton continued his intrusion, rifling through your things, taking his time to study them just because he could. It made him feel closer to you, and the fact that you would never know made it even better.

Heading to your bedroom he pushed open the door, stepping through the dimly lit room. You had told him once that you never opened your curtains because you were afraid of your neighbours looking in.

He ran his hand over your neatly made bed, smoothing out some lumps in the sheets before sitting down and laying across the pillow, making sure to cover the same spot you always slept in. Indulging in his memories he felt something stir inside of him as images flashed of his previous visits here. Hot and sweaty, grinding on your pillow, spoiled garment pressed to his face as his tongue caressed the fabric. He didn’t have to look down to see his body show excitement, pressing his fingers hard into your covers, staring up giddy at your ceiling he knew he could not wait any longer.

Getting up Layton headed to the spot you kept old laundry, rummaging through it for today’s treat. He always tried to find a different pair, cycling through until he had partaken in his fun with each one of your undergarments, staining them all. You would never know though, he’d take the mess home with him, wash it and slip it back into your washing basket so you would be none the wiser. But it was the thought that counts.

Today he settled on a black pair, your favourite to jog in. He could smell the saltiness of your sweat; the particular smell tinted with something else more intimate. Unbuckling his trousers letting them fall to the floor he got comfortable on your bed, sat on the pillow you would later fall asleep on. Fabric to his face he inhaled your scent, stroking himself in slow movements, imaging you in nothing but your underwear. The same underwear he traced with his tongue, tasting the remnants of where your skin had touched its surface. His hand moved quicker as his body bucked, his balls pressing into the satin cover of your pillow. His mind wandered to imaging that his tongue was against you, tracing your sensitive areas before inserting itself inside of you. His cock twitched, oh how Layton couldn’t wait for that day to become a reality, and yet he loved doing this. He loved having this secret, loved dirtying your clothes with his own fluids, loved the idea of cumming all over your underwear and then forcing you to wear them soaked for him. Most of all he adored the idea of you one day slipping past his parasites, entering your home completely unaware anything was wrong only to walk on into your bedroom to see him sprawled across your bed, your dirty underwear in hand pressed to his face as he came in front of you. Maybe one day.

He could feel himself getting close now, humping your pillow letting his own musk sink in, his movement was fast and desperate, his parasites getting higher and higher in their gluttonous lust until he felt the peak tear across him. Ripping your underwear from his face he wrapped the damp fabric around his cock’s tip, catching his mess within as the wave of pleasure sent him shaking breathlessly until he crashed back face down on your bed. Hand still clutching the soaking pair of underwear.