The more officers I killed, the more the Authorities wanted me. The more they wanted me, the more officers they sent, the more I was forced to kill to protect Sun. So the vicious cycle continued until my skill became too valuable to lose. Yet, for the first time in a long time, I wasn't cold, and that allowed me to fight with more viciousness than ever.

I didn't allow Sun out unless we were moving camp, she was too obvious. Besides, she was the only one that could keep the fire going. She was my source of warmth. I needed her. Luckily, she needed me more.

Yet, one man cannot stand against a nation. Even my warmth couldn’t compare to the raging bonfires of the Authorities. Eventually, I was overwhelmed. I took out at least five of them, perhaps more. But there were nearly twenty, all experienced in combat, unlike most officers I fought before. They captured my body, but it was my cooperation they wished to secure. In a land this cold, there is only one way to truly control a man's cooperation, and that is to control his source of heat.

****************

I write this because I'm scared. I not know this country well, only its language. But, I know the Authorities help no one. They stole me from my home and brought me to this cold place. I escape, then you save me. You protected me ever since, fed and kept me warm.

But you haven’t been same since we were attacked at the bakery. You used to be so doting, then wouldn’t let me leave. Now you come dressed as an officer? My prison may be warm and I well-fed, but this a cold and hungry prison nonetheless.

Help me understand, why must I stay here? I want leave this place Rag'jah. I want go home where the sun shines and the moon glows and even poorest people are warm. Please.

-Sun

She wanted to leave. But I wouldn’t have joined the Authorities were it that simple. A man must guard his source of heat with his life, or even, his ideals. I used to be frozen, warmth-less and numb, but she changed that. She was safe now and that was all that really mattered anymore. On the run, I could only give her a spare blanket and some pastries. Now she could have any type of food she wanted at any time. She always had a fire to rest by and a coat to keep her warm. Couldn't she see her interests were mine? Couldn't she be grateful for what I sacrificed for her? I guess, in the end, a man will abandon his dearest held morals for a bit of warmth.

****************

Rag'jah

I don't trust the guards guard me. They leer at me and make excuses to check on me in middle of night. The other southern women, ones you sent serve me, tell me not to trust them. I am scared alone.

-Sun

That letter made me angry. It was infuriating to think of other men trying to take advantage of my Sun. I was no fool. I knew what happened to the foreign maids at the hands of the officers, and the price they paid should they say anything, or show anything. It was wrong, but not my concern. Ignoring it was equally wrong, but if I still cared what was right and wrong, I wouldn’t be one of the Authorities' assassins. My concern was Sun. Sun wasn’t a maid, she was mine, and an officer shouldn’t touch anything belonging assassin. We were their superiors.

I would talk with my own superiors. I doubted they would deny me anything. I was their most prized asset.

****************

I knocked on the door before entering Sun’s chambers. She sat painting on a canvas laid on the table. Since I discovered her love of art, I made sure she had only the best supplies provided for her at all times. She had such colorful, bright pictures. I deeply enjoyed them. She once told me she often portrayed her homeland, it was almost a way of visiting for her. She was so focused on her task she didn’t notice me enter, so I snuck up behind her to watch her work.

I was surprised to see her painting wasn't composed of the cheery colors she usually favored, but of blues and grays. The scene was that of the Frozen Country's landscape, snow and ice-covered rugged terrain. Bleak smog hid the sun and cast the world below in shadows. Where I could normally nearly smell the sweet air, I could almost feel the frost biting at my toes. It was uncannily accurate and disturbingly depressing.

"Sun," I caught her attention and gestured to the painting, "why such terrible weather?"

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

She shrugged. "I tired of trying to be somewhere I’m not. This is where I am, so I should accept it. What you think?"

"It’s beautiful," I told her honestly, "but sad."

She nodded. "Good, then I do my work well."

"Is that how you see our land?" I asked quietly. "Beautiful and miserable?"

She didn't give an answer, but I didn't need one. The way she stared at her painting told me all I needed to know.

"I brought you something." I presented the yellow flowers I had behind my back. "They're from the southern countries. Maybe you recognize them?"

She gave me a slight smile at the gift and accepted them in her arms, holding them almost like a small child. Her face fell. "You have blood on glove."

I glanced down. She was right. I sighed and pulled a cloth from my uniform, wiping the leather clean. "I'm sorry, I thought I got it all off."

Her face was blank, an emotionless mask. "I don't think you will ever clean it all."

I nodded in agreement. "You're probably right. See?" I held up the offending glove. "It's already stained."

"Wearing gloves won't keep blood off your hands," she commented quietly.

"Yes," I lowered my hand and my head. We were silent for a moment, then I looked up, smiling. "Anyhow, did something else for you."

"Oh?" She seemed disinterested.

"Yes, you're going to be staying in my suite, so there will be no need for guards at night. It’ll be just like when we stayed in basements, only warmer."

She stared up at me in confusion, surprise written over her features.

"I won't push you if you're not comfortable," I assured her, "I want you to trust me, not obey me out of fear."

Her slight, solemn smile was back, "You should know I always go with you. I do anything for you."

I grinned. "Yes, I know. You said that before, though I don't think you meant it as much."

"No," she agreed, "I didn't mean it same way at all."

****************

Rag'jah,

I never minded run. You should do what you think is right, not mind me. I owe you so much, my life, I could never repay. I go with you wherever you go and be your Sun however you want, as long as you wish.

I know what you do, you never really tried to hide. I not say it doesn’t bother me, but it doesn't matter. I want you to fight for what you want, like you did when you save me. Please remember the baker? Do you recall how sweet his danishes were? I think it was because they for you. You were brave, braver than any soldier, and that is why he put extra sugar in them. He was trying to thank you for what you were doing.

You know I be by your side no matter what you do, I just wish it what you think is right.

-Sun

She had sent the note on a tray, slipped under my drink, carried by one of the foreign servants. I had it tucked in my sleeve for the opportune moment to read it. That moment came in the space between barrack buildings, leaned against the cold brick alley wall where no one bothered to shovel.

Perhaps I should have tried to hide my duties from her, maybe she could’ve been happier in her ignorance. But she probably would have found out sooner or later, anyway. At least she trusted me, I had never lied to her. I only wished she could see I no longer cared who's side I fought for, as long as it let me take care of her. Fighting the Authorities made that awfully hard, and fighting with them made it awfully easy. Perhaps I should explain my reasons to her.

***************

She was crying. She refused to shed a tear while awake, but at night, in her sleep, she wouldn't stop.

"Rag'jah," she moaned. I was tempted to wake her, but knew she wasn't calling my name for protection. I was the evil she was running from, waking her would only bring her nightmare to life.

"Rag'jah! Rag'jah! RAG'JAH!!!" Her cries became more desperate with each word. "You not! You didn't!"

I hung my head. She was recalling the incident earlier that day. Somehow, she picked the lock of the chamber door and slipped past the guards. She came to find me, and had, just in time to witness the tail end of an execution. I was ordered to take part and had been told bullets weren't to be wasted on foreigners.

"No Rag'jah! Why?" she screamed. No matter how loud she was though, no one would dare disturb us, not if they valued their lives. Sun quieted and sobbed the same words she had earlier.

"I hate you."

I closed my eyes. The words still stung, perhaps more now that I was no longer numb from the cold.