The man jumped up, rattling my tree, sending leaves spiralling to the ground. He leaped around three foxtails into the air, gripping the third lowest branch before tossing himself up, as if he were a cat with bones made of water.

I was mesmerised, watching as he spun and twisted and flipped around, higher and higher, ‘til he reached the branch below my perch. It was not until I could see into his black eyes and notice the flecks of brown that my reason came rushing back to me.

Run!

Fear roared in my ears, raging through my skin and scraping inside my veins, screaming at me to get out of there. I dodged his hand, quickly skirted around the trunk, swerving around one of the triple branches as I went further up the smallest branch.

The branch began to shake more and more viciously, precariously swaying in the wind as I climbed higher and higher. Surely, he would not dare follow me there.

He is not as light as me. His eyes had slight wrinkles, there by the corners, so he must be just barely older than Moriarty, albeit with the build of a panther! Now then, how can I lose him?

The tree shook more viciously until I had reached the end of my branch. There was no time left.

I glanced around, terrified; there was another oak slightly to my left which would easily take my weight, but I would have to jump roughly two horsetails at an angle in order to reach it.

It cannot bear your own weight, fool! You might as well die already!

The mercenary followed behind, not far off and time was of the essence. I could not risk waiting or pleading for mercy; his blade was gleaming in the afternoon sunlight, dangling from his hip.

Heavens above-

I backpedalled slightly and inhaled, glancing behind. I took two steps more, then ran to the edge of the branch; it shook under my weight, nearly making me lose my balance, but I had managed to leap off in time.

The oak was just within reach, but I was screaming in pain when my arms strained to catch the branch, aching and shuddering from the force.

He’s right behind me! Move!

I forced another breath, dropping to a lower branch, before running towards the other end of the tree.

The man was also behind, having to climb down to catch another branch to accommodate his weight.

Focus; the next branch is up ahead.

This time it was an old alder tree, with a trunk about as wide as my waist and the branch I had to catch was six spans below.

Shoot!

I wasted no time, dropping down from branch to branch. My skin split apart and blisters began to form on my palms, soft and pliable from a life of luxury. The blood made my grip slippery, leaving dark red trails where my hands had gripped the bark. My heart pounded in my throat and all I could hear was that wretched thump, thump, thump as it thrummed in my ears. The mercenary was still behind me, at the same distance as when we started.

I was not used to climbing trees like that; it was the first time I had ever experienced such a thing and I am sure Mother would have thrown a fit if she had found out what I had done. Regardless, when one's life is at stake, they will tend to ignore such trivial matters and focus on escaping - a lesson I would learn the hard way.

Faster.

Faster.

Faster.

I dropped until I was around seven foxtails above the ground. It had felt exhilarating, yet absolutely petrifying; I did not know whether I would freeze from the sheer terror, or if I would keep running.

By then a small cramp had formed in my gut, but I pushed it down, leaping off to reach the alder.

Three.

I breathed in, forcing the cramp to scream out.

Two.

I could not go back up to a higher branch; the man was already there and would catch me.

One.

His hand brushed my hair; I felt his fingers tug at a few of the longest strands before I pushed forward.

JUMP!

I leaped, soaring again and I glanced back to see the man pause at the branch. His eyes were black, as black as the night before, yet I noticed them crinkle at the edges; he was laughing.

I soon realised why, rushing unfocused through the air. I had missed my branch by around two spans, seeing the leaves bristle in my face. I fell and a stick hit my stomach, cracking in half and knocking the breath from my lungs; another stick beat my spine as I spun in the air, still another attacking my arm, another cracking my rib.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!”

I was screaming, spinning like a ragdoll, lifeless, empty, dead, as I was beaten again and again and again, falling for what seemed to be an eternity. It was, in fact, no more than a few seconds, but those seven foxtails had broken me entirely.

Thud!

A heavy crash sounded from where I lay and blood leaked from my lips where I had torn it. My side screamed in pain and my left arm was twisted out of its socket as well; I could not move.

For all my effort, my incompetence had caught up with me once more.

The leaves hung above me and in the distance, I could just make out my own blood, dark and red, dripping steadily from where I was just moments before.

Who do you think you are? You did not believe that you, a pampered, worthless, empty imp, could beat a trained mercenary, did you?

Fear taunted me once more, cackling in my ears as I lay there, motionless. Reason still held me, though, giving me hope as I began to think of what I could do, there on the forest floor.

Could… could I escape if I… play dead?

That small voice thrummed quietly as I saw blurry boots enter my field of view; I held my breath, forcing the pained cramps to go away as I laid motionless on the ground. The wind brushed strands of my hair over my face and as the man crouched before me, he pushed them aside.

“You know,” he began, “it truly is the first time I’ve ever had a lady last the hunt for that long.”

He chuckled, voice deep with age and I could tell that he had been hired many, many times. That voice was not like the ones I was familiar with; it was low, guttural and entirely devoid of the blissful ignorance I was surrounded with.

“Still, it is a shame I cannot hunt you like the others; Alucard would never forgive me for that.”

He pushed me onto my side, laughing as agony reverberated through the corridors of my mind.

His voice… is soothing, yet I want to punch him. Agh, my rib!

“Oberon above, stop poking me! Will you quit it?” I could not help but breathe out, a pained whimper tearing out of my mouth. The blood leaked down my cheek to drain into my hair and leaves tangled viciously in the long strands.

“Firstly,” he began, “I cannot ‘quit it’, as you so eloquently put it, my lady. My job is to patch you up and guard you,” he grabbed my arm, “and secondly, my name is Aspen. A pleasure.”

He smiled, pulling his hood to reveal a face marred by jagged skin, scars nicking his ear, his brow, his cheek, his chin. I noticed more scars criss-crossing his neck, with a prominent one just above his jugular - the sign of a slow, horrific death. This man should have been a corpse at least fifteen times over, from what I could tell.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Distracted, I did not notice him holding my body in place until he looked at me again.

“Hold your breath, love.”

I furrowed my brow, looking up at him until I realised what was happening.

Oberon abo-

CRACK!

He snapped my dislocated shoulder back into place, making me scream once more, bloody murder on my mind as I cursed his being.

Oh, how he will pay for that one.

“ELIZA!”

Adrianne barrelled through the undergrowth, crying as she saw me lying down there in the dirt as a strange man covered in scars, daggers gleaming at his sides, grabbed my arm and hung over me. She held a small dagger in her hand, twisting it with beautiful efficacy and sending ripples of air swirling with the blade’s swish.

“GET OFF HER, YOU [...] FOOL!!!” she screamed, profanities spewing from her lips as if she had no other moment left to live, uttering words that dared not even touch her mind when she was with Lady Helena.

Aspen stood up, cracking his neck with a laziness only the most uncaring of dispositions could manifest.

Swoosh!

He dodged easily, sidestepping her as she flew in front of him.

“For a knight’s daughter, you’re not too bad, love.”

Slash!

“Shut up, you wretched miscreant! What do you know of a knight’s daughter?” Hatred bled from Adrianne’s voice, quietly seeping into every pore of her being. Her eyes were unfocused, hazy and murderous, with a rage that I had not seen in all our years growing up.

She’s lost it…

Another stab missed and this time, he twirled behind her, yawning. She arched her blade at an angle, nearly slicing another scar from his breast to his brow.

Dust kicked up as they danced in a deadly duet, spinning and sending clouds up into the afternoon light. Soon, my mind spun as the pain overtook me and I could not focus much on the spectacle, save for their exchanged remarks.

“I know plenty more than you, my dear, but,” he languidly paused, laughing before he spun behind her once more, “if something of that level were to catch me, then I would be dead long before I met you.”

He reached out, gripping her wrist, before yanking it down onto his knee. The blade flew out of her hand and soon, she was lying face down in the dirt with his foot resting on her back, her arms above her head.

“GET OFF ME, YOU SICK F-” she spat out, yelling and shrieking like a banshee; even I cringed, cupping my broken rib as I watched the encounter.

Oh Yvonne, give me strength-

I gasped as the rib dug into my side. It ached and groaned in pain; I was certain I saw stars in the evening light.

Aspen sighed, then slapped her cheek harshly; a bright red mark bloomed, covering her pale skin in a rosy sheen.

“Shut up, Kit. As much as I would love to banter, my ladies, I am afraid I cannot.”

He sighed.

“How Alucard ever managed to raise such things, I will never know.”

Fa…ther? He- he knows Father?

He continued to patronise Adri, sitting on her hips as she squirmed, kicking his back. She screamed and yelled and shouted, furious and hissing like a cat. More dust coated her sides until eventually, Aspen had enough.

He reached around with one foot, pinning her legs to the ground as well and fairly soon, she was unable to do anything but heave.

As he focused on her, I reached to grab the dagger from where it skidded by my side. Pangs echoed from my rib, making it difficult to move, but soon enough it was in my hand . It was a beautiful little thing, with a sleek silver blade etched with the Devienne knights’ wolf emblem at the base and the handle was a stunningly clean leather grip.

Adrianne spent a lot of time caring for this…

I looked up, aiming as best I could with my right hand, blood coating that beautiful brown leather.

Adri, forgive me…

I reached back, then threw it to the best of my abilities.

It flew, slicing the air as it spun in deadly arcs, but as soon as it neared him, I knew it was useless.

Aspen did not even glance at me, lifting a hand to catch the blade between two fingers. When he looked up, it had lined up with his throat, exactly at the very scar that was supposed to take his life.

Ahavet, strike me dead.

I held my breath, staring into his eyes. We were as good as gone now; there was no longer any hope.

I closed my eyes, waiting for him to finish us off, but the blow never came. All I could hear was his quiet chuckle, causing me to peek up at him.

By then, he had tossed the blade aside, throwing it until it stuck into the heartwood of a tall alder, high enough to where we could not reach it.

“Now then,” he began, languidly twirling his own knives in his hand, “are we ready to listen?’

I shifted unconsciously, crying out in pain, “Yvonne above, have mercy!”

He chuckled once more, nearing me as he pulled out a long strip of white bandage from his cloak, “You really should not move like that, my lady. Allow me.”

He crouched at my side, wrapping his arms around me and as the fabric tightened to hold my rib in place, I breathed out a small sigh of relief, leaning against the trunk.

Ah… Oh heavens above…

The relief made my vision swim, yet I could not bear to trust this mysterious man, Aspen, enough to relax completely.

Adrianne slowly got up, backing up towards the tree which held her blade. Her hair bristled at any movement and I was sure she looked like a weary tomcat at that moment.

Aspen ignored her.

“I must say, that was quite a throw, love. Where on earth did you learn to do that?” He snapped my attention back to him, making me zone into what he was saying.

“What say you?” I glanced back at him as he backed off to sit by another tree, leaning against the trunk. Adrianne began to squirrel her way up the trunk, reaching within four spans of the hilt.

“I would not touch that if I were you,” he called out, tossing another blade towards her hand and missing by a hair’s breadth, “and as for you, I meant that throw. The one that well nigh drove into my skull. A splendid throw.”

He shook his head, “Not many ladies will throw a blade like that, love. Where did you learn it?”

I shook my head, “I have never held a blade before, except for gardening tools… I… I was just worried for Adri. Who knew what you would do with two ladies in the middle of a forest, walking down a closed trail…”

I stopped, shuddering. Something cold slowly trailed down my cheek and when I had regained my senses, I realised I was crying.

I shook more fervently, wrapping my arms around myself as the situation finally sank in.

If he were not who he was… we would be dead, or worse…

“Oh Skarabeck above…” Aspen muttered under his breath, looking awkwardly out of place, “Uh… don’t cry, love. Please, don’t cry. By Oberon’s spear above-”

He swore a few more times, glancing around until his eyes landed on Adri.

‘Do something.’ He mouthed, gesturing towards me. She looked confused, furrowing her brow, before abandoning her dagger to approach me slowly.

By then, I was fully, utterly and completely spent, choking on tears and blood as my ribs echoed in pain. Shudders rippled through my body, sending thrills of agony up and down my spine and the bark of the trunk dug relentlessly into my back.

“Hey. My dear toad, it’s alright. Look at me.” Adri walked back slowly, keeping an eye on Aspen always before crouching down in front of me.

I cried all the more, wailing and shrieking as sobs wracked my body and pure, unadulterated terror thumped once more in my ears.

“Kit. Kit! Oh from the heavens above, THE GIRL WITH THE HAY HAIR!!” Aspen called out to one of us, but it took a moment for Adri to respond.

“What??”

“Yes you! I’m going back for your packs. Just-” he sighed, running a hand through his black locks, “just make sure she stops crying.”

Adri did not bother to respond, turning her attention towards her friend and ignoring the stranger. However much I distrusted that mercenary, my heart warmed up once again until I had finally stopped shuddering. The tears slowed as he walked away and fairly soon, my breathing had stabilised.

Adri rushed to hug me, patting my hair as I dried my face.

“I am so sorry, my little toad! I tried; I tried to hold him off - I’m sorry…” She hugged me again, tightening her grip.

“Adri- Ack! Adri, get off my ribs, you oaf! I’m dying!”

“Ah! Sorry…”

I sighed, “It’s alright. I was more worried about you. Are you okay? Did he hurt you??”

“Only my pride…” She shrugged, “do we trust him?”

Yes… Your father’s… man…. Your… Guardian…

That still, small voice surprised me, fading in and out of my consciousness like a hazy dream, but this time I did not glance around. It was clear that it had come from my mind, not outside, for neither Adri nor any other creeping creature that returned to the forest seemed to hear the same thing.

“I think so… He mentioned my father, Adri, and if… If he really wanted us dead, I do not think he would have left me alive before you charged in.”

She frowned, pausing, “Very well then; I… will trust you. Do you hurt anywhere else?”

“Maybe? I cannot say; my side hurts too much. At least I have my arm back…”

Footsteps echoed back as Aspen returned, lugging the heavy rucksacks on his shoulder as if they were lightweights.

“Ah, you’ve returned to your senses, love. Brilliant!” He smiled,

“Now we can actually do business.”

He plopped down on the floor, sending a cloud of dust to rise up around him and soon, the food was laid out before us.

A gurgle erupted from my stomach and, as embarrassed as I was after that, I reached to grab one of the berries offered to me.

“Very well then… Firstly, how do you know of my father?”

Aspen grinned, the scars on his cheek contorting until his face looked like some five year old’s abandoned paper mache project.

A shame… He has such a lovely face too, given his age and circumstances.

“Ah… that, my dear, is a long story and,” he grabbed a slice of bread, “one that I am absolutely enthralled to recount.”

And so, the last of our days travelling to Cheverton was spent listening to a complete stranger as he strolled down memory lane, speaking of battles and assassins and criminal underground activities ‘til the sky grew as dark and red as my blood. When the night fell, with the fire blazing high into the sky, he finally began to recount the real story.