TW: Violence. I wrote this for school and I kinda like it so I'm gonna post it! 12/11/2021 edit: NO THIS IS DISGUSTING- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ With her features concealed beneath a grey cloak and mask, Nesryn Solace, Lyria’s Assassin, sat before an ornate desk alongside her fellow k1ller for hire, Nox. The extra clothing was an unnecessary precaution. But as Lyria’s most feared assassin, Nesryn’s master insisted she keep her identity a secret. After all, what would her enemies think if they were dealing with a 16 year old girl? Nesryn drummed her fingers on the shining wooden surface of the desk. “Why, may I ask, have you summoned me at this hour?” She crosses her legs beneath the desk. This meeting was undeniably important. She’d known that from the moment a servant girl pounded on her door, insisting she come downstairs at once. When Whitlock summoned you, you didn’t keep him waiting. Lionel Whitlock lounged in his chair, his shoulder-length blonde hair gleaming in the torchlight. His grey eyes met Nesryn’s, and he frowned. “Drey has been k1lled,” he says at last, his mouth a thin line. She tapped a foot on the marble floor. “This,” she started, “is why you’ve summoned me in the dead of night? To announce the death of a lowborn nobody?” The words came out sharper than she had intended. “Nesryn,” Whitlock warns. She clamps her mouth shut. Nox grips the arms of his chair, choking back a cry. “What?” Whitlock raises an eyebrow at him. “You heard me. We found his body near the castle gates, along with Lydon’s.” Nesryn’s throat closes up. Lydon-the ever smiling assassin-was dead. “And what do you mean, dead,” she snapped at Whitlock. Nox kicks Nesryn from under the table, another warning. He eyes her warily, a glimmer of grief flashing across his face. Nesryn fixed her stare to the crackling hearth beside the desk, it’s firelight illuminating the whole room. “And what else?” Whitlock’s lips stretch into a small smile this time, any sign of the grief he feels gone. “I want you to assassinate the Crown Prince.” Her stomach turns over. “What?” Whitlock’s smirk only grows. “K1ll him. I don’t really care how you do it.” She shakes her head, vision blurring, thoughts muddling. “No.” Whitlock raised a well groomed eyebrow at her. “No? Says the assassin?” “I’ll be caught,” Nesryn blurted. Whitlock’s eyes bore into Nesryn, his grey irises blazing. “Really? No one knows who you are, not even me! You aren’t Lyria’s Assassin for nothing, after all.” Nox stirred in his chair, listening intently. “Fine,” she spat, if only to end the drastic conversation. “Good.” From the way Whitlock said his next words, she got a feeling that if she didn’t accept his job for her, she would find herself doing it anyway. What she did know was that she’d just unleashed hell on herself. XXX No one noticed when Nesryn climbed the drain pipe or swung onto the windowsill. Nor did anyone notice when she slipped behind a curtain, now merely a slip of darkness. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the hallway. Latching the window shut and sucking in a long breath, she strides down the marble checked hall, swift as a snake and nimble as a cat. This castle, once filled with a feel of joy and importance, now only served as a reminder for who wielded the power in this kingdom, and many others. Resting a hand on the door before her, Nesryn’s lips stretched into a small, wicked smile. Somewhere beyond this point, Crown Prince Theseus Lauriel slumbered. The door opens, hinges groaning. The Crown Prince slept soundly, head resting on a pillow, oblivious to the havoc that was about to be cast upon him. Nesryn’s blade slides out of its sheath with little more than a whine. The Prince’s eyes fly open just as she raises her blade to his throat. A gloved hand pulls Nesryn back with such force she’s knocked off her feet. “Solace,” a male voice growls as her hood is yanked back, mask unclasped. The Captain of the Guard stands over her, sword hovering above her head. (next paragraph in Notes and Credits.)
Theseus Lauriel stands out the window of his tower bedroom, leaning out as far as he dared to catch just a breath of wind on his face. In the distance, the emerald roofs of Tyresan sizzled in the late summer sun, and beyond them, the foothills rolled toward the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. The rain would be a relief. It had been three weeks of stifling heat, two weeks without a whisper of wind, and the stench from the rotting city had now reached even the highest towers of the castle. The lightning storm the previous night didn’t do anything for the baking stench. In fact, it was so bad that many members of his father’s council had left for the southern kingdoms. And even whilst encircled by servants fanning everyone with palm fronds imported from Medarllard, the baking sun certainly made Theseus's temper fray. Wiping the sweat from his brow on the back of a hand, Theseus shoves up the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows and faces the Captain of the Guard. Lennox, who had been reading some document or report or other while sprawled on the couch by the unlit fireplace, looked up. “Well?” “I’m still thinking about it,” he says with a shrug, going to the oak table that had once been for dining but was now covered in ever growing stacks of books and papers. “Your father wanted your decision yesterday.” There was no hint of aggression in Lennox’s expression, only worry. Lennox was always worrying. Despite the fact that he rarely showed it. But no, even in the heat he was still wearing his black uniform, still looking crisp and alert, ready to face any threat. “Why must the girl live within the castle walls as my father's royal assassin? Why not send her to Arusite and let her suffer for the rest of her days?” Lennox stays quiet for a moment. “She tried to k1ll you.” Theseus reached for a pitcher of water wedged between two piles of books and poured himself and Lennox a glass each. “Why does my father even want a so-called royal assassin? He already has you and the gods know how many shady people he has working for him.” Lennox sets down the papers as Theseus hands him the glass, but frowns. “I don’t know. If I’m being honest with myself, I believe she should be executed.” Lennox drums his fingers on the worn fabric of the back of the couch. He sighs, furrowing his brow. “If you send the girl to Arusite, it will make a statement about where your loyalties lie.” A flash of bronze eyes. “And I do not think it is a statement you want to make right now.” Lennox knew, and had always known, about Theseus’s relationship with his father. He had never been outright rebellious, perhaps because Lennox had always been there to interfere, to keep him from saying or doing something he’d later greatly regret. But each year, each month, each day now, perhaps, it was getting harder to process the fact that he had a tyrant for a father. Theseus takes a long sip of his water. It was already warm. “But as you said, she tried to k1ll me.” Lennox raises his hands. “It is not my choice to make. But sending her to Arusite or executing her would damage your reputation.” Theseus choked on his water. “And since when did I care about the reputation I don’t even have?” Lennox shrugs. “I suppose you have a point.” “Well, then, I’m not agreeing to my father’s absurd plan to crown her royal assassin. So we’ll execute her.” Lennox nods as if he had been expecting this, which wasn’t surprising. And neither were the captain’s next words. “As long as it’s entertaining, I don’t think His Majesty really cares.” I finish my water, and spread my arms in a wide gesture. “Everything is just a game to him, isn’t it? First the arena, and now this? It’s all just a waste of time. A waste of gold, and a waste of lives!” “Theseus, I would be careful with your words-” Theseus shakes his head at him. “It’s fine. I-I know.” Lennox takes a shaky breath. “Good.” He goes back to the open window to study the city laid out before him, as if he could see every person and creature winding their way through the streets. For just a heartbeat, Theseus could have sworn he felt a cool breath wind on his face, a pine and snow scent tickling his senses. He leans his head out the window, trying to catch some more of it, only to be greeted by the relentless, beating sunshine. He sighs and again studies the city, losing himself in it’s beauty. “Fine,” he eventually said in a hushed voice. “What?” Theseus turns from the window to find Lennox approaching him. “I will send word to execute the girl for the attempted murder of the Crown Prince.” Notes and Credits ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Writing - Me @captain-comet
