Chapter 123: Contracts
He stirred from his sleep, his bladder reminding him that the caffeine intake he had increased also brought consequences with it. Groaning, Joseph sat up, lifting Jax’s arm from across his chest and extracting his leg from between Scarlet’s. A groggy smile crossed his face when he blinked away the bleariness. Volta was basically buried in the Wraith’s chest, her deep breaths making her look more relaxed than she had been in a long time.
“Joseph?”
He glanced back at his grey-furred mate. She rubbed her leg with a paw, probably feeling the temperature shift now that he wasn’t using it as a pillow. “Bathroom.”
She nodded, passing back out as soon as her head hit the mattress. It had been a long day for her too, he supposed.
He shifted towards the foot of the bed and slid off, careful not to disturb Violet in the process. Thankfully, Rose had taken the lengthwise side on the floor, so he wouldn’t be stepping on them. Not that it would bother the Atmo—he was pretty sure everyone could use the insect as transportation, and that was before the raid confirmed it was possible—but because the red carapace of their base was level with the bed and it would be an awkward shuffle to get over it. He wondered if anyone would end up rolling onto them before nature’s call reminded him why he was up.
Jax grumbled as the Grand Hunter reached the door, a quick check making Joseph stifle a chuckle. Tel had curled up—either to keep his spot warm, or to simply claim the empty space—leaving her arm to flop limply onto the black-furred male’s face. Jax captured the owner in response, dragging Tel into an awkwardly positioned cuddle.
Joseph left the room with a smirk and a barely suppressed yawn, trudging towards the singular place he could relieve himself.
Late-night needs taken care of, enough time had passed for him to wake up more than he would have liked—enough for him to remember where he was and what had happened so far, anyway. He grabbed a shirt and his push-daggers, clipping them to his pants as he mulled over the day’s events.
Jax had returned from the First Claw’s office after a while, his usual relaxed smile coming across tired and hollow. When asked, the male explained that he had caught up with his sister, and apologized for not recognizing her. Since he hadn’t seen her since he was pretty young, she looked quite a bit different. Normally, her scent would bridge that gap to the point where he wouldn’t even need a moment’s pause, but...
Joseph sighed, pushing open the door to the outside and stretching in the moonlight. The distant sounds of construction could be heard from the direction of the First Claw’s office, but it was pretty quiet compared to what he had come to expect over his life. The chilling air of autumn caused a quick shiver, though the refreshing taste of cool air was appreciated; the room could get pretty stuffy with so many people in it.
Even with the moon high in the sky, there were still soldiers doing their routes in the fluctuating light provided, a few slowing down to look at him. He gave a polite wave, but otherwise ignored them. They were quick to do the same. Unless he gave them a reason, they would likely just keep an eye out. It didn’t matter much to him, since he just wanted to go sit on the stump again and bleed off whatever thoughts kept pestering him.
Considering the circumstances, it was weird to be...well, he wouldn’t say ‘relaxed,’ but ‘accepting’ sort of fit; there was an arbitrary threshold that had been crossed where he couldn’t be bothered with where he was, or how many guns were constantly just a twitch away from shooting him. Maybe his subconscious just conceded that worrying was a waste of energy. It wasn’t like being a nervous wreck would make him bullet-proof.
Or, maybe it just didn’t matter as much anymore.
The back of the building was fairly isolated, thanks to the sparse placement of windows on the other structures and how much space there was between them. It made for a nice spot to just sit and think—when he wasn’t bothering someone’s break, anyway. A stump might not have been the best seat available, but the night air and echoes of distant conversations made it feel more like home.
There was no fire to crackle and warm his front, no Pan to claim a random limb with her tail as she hummed to herself, content with his company. Harrow wasn’t slowly coming back to herself with suggestive comments tucked between idle conversations. The girls weren’t causing trouble, Faye smiling as the wolves tried to stop the pup from misbehaving.
No comforts, yet no distractions either, and no expectations placed upon him.
Without needing to keep his guard up, or constantly think out what he wanted to say, he could just stare at the clouds drifting through the sky, letting thoughts come and go as needed.
Jax was keeping something to himself, but Joseph felt that it was a purely personal matter, rather than having anything to do with the settlement or the pack. It was the sort of thing that he made sure to stay clear of; his friend would tell him when he was ready. Tel would have let him know, anyway, since she—as they expected—had followed them and found a nice spot to hide away while still listening to everything going on. He was thankful for the peppermint she regularly applied; it’d be a lot harder to keep track of her, otherwise.
Joseph’s arms rested on his knees as he sat, his fingers lacing as he let the breeze take away his concerns. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, his thoughts transient and unfocused. It was the few minutes of nothing that he had been needing for some time now.
A faint scent of mint suggested that either Tel or Scarlet decided to check up on him. Given that both could come and go as they pleased without making a sound, he didn’t bother trying to guess which it was. He just closed his eyes and waited. His fiancee would probably tease him, and Scarlet would ask if there was anything he needed, assuming she didn’t just go back to bed once she confirmed he was alright.
The sound of soft footfalls lent itself to the visitor being Tel, he supposed. She was probably still groggy and decided to come find him. That, or she had gotten annoyed by Jax and came to make sure he was bothered as well. Either was perfectly valid with her.
The rustle of clothing and dull thud of someone sitting next to him caused a moment of confusion, but Jax might have sought him out, he supposed. Maybe the mint rubbed off on him when he grabbed Tel?
“My, my, Grand Hunter,” a deep, gravelly voice drolled in amusement. “So unbothered and unguarded? Much has changed since you visited my domain, has it not?”
He fought down the jolt, settling for a sigh at forgetting where he was. He cracked an eye, peering at the grey-furred male next to him. He saw the same scarred flesh, the same torn ear, and the same mercantile smile that didn’t match the bemused malice behind the eyes. One of the pupils was clouded over, a scar tracing from the ear to his muzzle. The same tone of grey he had grown so used to covered the Blademaster, though it thankfully lacked the subtle variations in colour as Tel.
“Trill,” he greeted flatly, his relaxed expression falling to annoyance. Surprisingly, he wasn’t scared or overly worried. He was just pretty irritated that his peaceful alone time had been interrupted. “I thought we were discouraged from meeting before the congressional? Security reasons and all.”
The male chuckled, mirroring Joseph’s posture and gazing outwards at random, as if taking in the scenery. “Security? Oh, no, no. See, I am one who was never hindered by such trivial things.”
“Like common decency?”
“Perhaps.” Trill returned the side-eyed glance. “Though, one could say that I am well within my rights to wander where I please. I am the one who suggested this gathering, after all.”
Joseph snorted, taking a breath and whistling out a long descending tone out of reflex—a subtle signal for the pack to be wary and ready. It was pretty pointless at the volume he used, but he hadn’t exactly thought about doing it, which only added to his frustrations. “Fantastic, more reasons for my time to be wasted. What brings you to ruin my moon?”
The male’s ear flicked, his brow raising. “Interesting sound,” he noted curiously.
“Interesting avoidance.”
Trill smirked, producing a quill from his fur and beginning to pick at his claws as he spoke, cleaning them at a casual pace. “I have already spoken with Sunundra. I assumed you were aware that a part of this congregation of power was for myself to speak with you as well.”
The Grand Hunter placed his hand on his hip, the size and shape of his push-daggers making them easy to covertly equip. “Finally come to openly disapprove of me taking your kit as a mate?”
The low chuckle was unsettling. “Quite the opposite, in fact. You still breathe, which means that Tersa has given you her approval. How you achieved as much, I suppose I will have to find out, but it means that it will not be my dagger to slit your throat.” He held his claws up for inspection, blowing away whatever dirt he dislodged. “Truthfully, I might have been irked further by my kit’s mark upon your flesh, but your scent has changed. I find it rather...familiar now.”
Joseph narrowed his eyes, shifting on the stump for a better angle, if needed. “You’re not the first to say that it’s different. Want to be the first to tell me what that means?”
The grey-furred male paused in his grooming, tilting his head without bothering to look at his conversational partner. “It means that the odd knife in your paw carries with it an actual threat. Interesting.”
The Grand Hunter stiffened. When did he notice? He was busy staring off into the distance or cleaning himself!
A furry appendage tapped his wrist, Trill’s tail performing a tiny wave at the tip before patting the clip holding the rest of the daggers. The male wore a smug expression as he switched which paw he was touching up.
“I have been drawing blood longer than you have had it, Joseph—assuming my information is accurate.” He tapped his lip with the back of the quill. “There may be some discrepancy based on how we measure time... No matter. What I intended to say was: you are no longer just bluff and facade. You have taken life, and have done so purposely, determined to cut that which binds soul to flesh. You smell of bloodlust.”
Trill stopped picking at his claws, turning to smile. “And I find that to be a rather pleasing scent to mix with my kit’s mark. It shows promise.”
Joseph swallowed, only now noticing how firm his expression was, and how loaded his muscles were to drive his longest push-dagger into the male’s throat. One sudden movement, one half-hearted threat, or one hint at something dangerous would have been enough to uncoil. He firmly slid the weapon back with the others, unclenching his hand to relieve the tension. “I’m not like you.”
“No,” Trill conceded, swaying a bit as he stretched his legs out, crossing one over the other. “But you are different than you were. Do tell, who brought forth your claws? How long did you relish in their suffering before bringing it to a merciful end? Was it quick, but a twitch of a muscle, or was it a slow and destructive process? Efficient, or vengeful? And—this is of personal interest—would you hesitate to do it again?”
“You know the answers to those.”
“Perhaps,” he allowed, drawing and exhaling a breath. “Hasen was found with bones more broken than intact, his muscles torn and fatigued. Whispers of the Liquid Claw slipped into my ears, you know. Quite fitting for one they claim an Essence. Hunted, dismantled, and only when time would take them did you strike the final blow.”
Joseph’s scowl deepened.
“For one who held a blade to my throat and dismissed the thought, it was a rather brutal execution—and it was an execution, before you attempt to deny it.”
His throat ran dry, but he swallowed anyway. “Came to even the score or something?”
Trill chortled, finally finished with his claws. He slipped the quill back into his fur with a flourish. “Nothing so dramatic, I assure you. In fact, you did me the favour of saving me the effort.”
“Then why bring it up?”
The Blademaster hummed. “Your actions have left me in something of a conundrum, you see. The contract of ten states that Avalon is to remove those who seek to disrupt the delicate balance of power—“
“—That didn’t stop you from letting Hasen gather as much as he did,” Joseph snapped, fighting back the snarl. “You had a pretty glaring weakness in your ‘contract’ that you missed.”
The rumbling laughter set him on edge. It sounded like someone rolling a barrel of stones. “The ‘weakness’ was intended. It is just a shame that someone noticed.”
“Intended?”
Trill tipped his head, an ear following the motion as he turned to give a curious look. “It would be rather insensitive of me not to give my kit the opportunity.”
Not to what?
The anger flashed faster than he could control it, shifting his weight to his legs to strike. “After trying to give her away like a breeding animal!?”
Despite the sudden shouting, the grey-furred male watched impassively, the blank stare reflecting back the moonlight. “That is a rather unfavourable way to describe it.”
“Pretty damn accurate, if you ask me.”
Trill frowned in disappointment. “How little do you still know to reach that conclusion?”
“Enlighten me.”
The Blademaster sighed, waving with his paws when Joseph eased back onto the stump. “We should be of true privacy now. Tell me, Joseph, what have you learned of Blades in your time commanding them?”
“Is there a point to this?” The expectant smile continued. “That they’re ripped from their dens by making terrible deals, then pit against each other in death matches?”
The grey-furred male raised a brow. “My, no wonder you carry such an opinion.”
“Am I wrong? I’ve heard it from them myself; the trials, the gruelling training, the faint memories of their family that linger from a young age. You take kits and turn them into numbed killing machines.”
“For one who serves the Goddess so directly, you are rather detached from her services.” He held up a claw to pause Joseph’s retort. “Grand Hunter, I do not ‘rip’ kits from anywhere; they are given to me as payment, and I make them more.”
“Oh, sorry. You extort dens into parting with their young, how rude of me.”
“Quite the opposite, I’m afraid,” the Blademaster sighed. “Are you aware of my titles, Guardian?”
“I’m assuming you’ll tell me anyway.”
“Quite so. I have been attributed to being an Aspect of Balance; The Weighted Scale, as it were. Though I do not put much importance into it, I do find it accurately describes my preference.”
“Your point?”
Trill smirked. “In due time. You see, Avalon is more than a mere disposal service and Blades; we are—first and foremost—where those in need go to alleviate their issues. From the desolate to the empowered, from the hopeless to the ambitious, Avalon provides. At a cost, that is.”
“Charging kits, I take it.”
A flicker of silver ended with a knife pointed at Joseph’s eye. “It is rather distasteful to interrupt so often.”
“Move it, or I break what’s holding it.”
Trill’s grin replaced the stoic glare. “Different indeed.” He tossed the blade up, catching it with his tail and returning it to its sheath. “No, I rarely set the terms of payment for those with little to give. Instead, I pose to them a question: ‘how much is your request worth to you?’ The answer varies; some plead for me to accept a pittance, others resign to losing all but their pack, and fewer still offer something that would be unthinkable otherwise, but is barely worth consideration to them.”
Joseph’s stomach dropped. “They put their kits up as payment.”
“They do. It is quite the trade for most, but those who seek my services often bring the least valuable possession that others may find of worth. This includes young that they despise.” For once, Trill wasn’t smiling or looking intimidating, instead letting his expression turn wistful and worn. “The Blades I raise are what survived after years of neglect and abuse, Joseph. Even when I have yet to set paw to task, they carry vacant eyes and distorted memories, clinging to fragments of time before they were to blame for life’s difficulties. How many have entered Avalon’s embrace as little more than shells, convinced that they only need to weather harsh words and physical punishment until care resumes, I cannot say.”
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The Grand Hunter shifted in his seat. “So you take advantage and make them killers.”
“So I give them the tools to thrive,” Trill growled back, stifling his anger with a breath. “I give them weapons to remove, training to survive, and contracts to fund their endeavours once their own has been fulfilled.”
“You make kits slaughter each other.”
“I...” The Blademaster backed down, slumping slightly. “That was not my decision. It was the consequence of an agreement.”
“So why do it!?”
Trill’s lips curled to reveal a savage snarl, the heat from his speech felt as he leaned forward, the flash of fury barely contained. “Because I do not break contracts, Yet the fools...” He choked down his ire, clenching his paw into a fist. “Yet the fools who made that one did, and did so in a way where I was forced to delay their punishment. They demanded drug implementation, providing documentation and results from previous research to support their claims of it being proven and safe. They just required combat testing amongst the dull of my Blades to confirm the benefits.”
“And you signed off on them making the trials.”
The Blademaster fell quiet, shrinking as he rested his arms on his knees. “I had lost my love, and my kit sought to become all that her mother was and more in a bid to ease my sorrow. For the first time, I failed to read the implications proposed within the contract, and signed it so that I may have mourned in peace. By the time such came to my attention, it was too late. Two generations had been sent off and only a few returned, twisted and Void-touched... I couldn’t stop the third. I couldn’t stop my kit from participating... And so I watched, determined to be there to witness her final moments, should they come to bear. I wished to burn the image into my mind, so that it might carry me through the vengeance I would enact. She returned, but not as she had left.”
Joseph stared cautiously, not quite sure what to make of the male looking distraught and the story he presented. “How did they break the contract?”
Trill huffed a wry laugh. “The drugs were not previously tested—not by any sanctioned body, anyway. They were the ones taking kits from dens, then injecting them time and time again. They were crafting their own Blades, but without the training and tempering, all they made were corpses and addicts. They falsified the documentation, ruined countless young, then presented the results to me once they had ceased killing their subjects so reliably. Investigation showed they had been repeating the process for a long time, ignoring the side effects to mimic that which I had turned into an artform through chemical means.”
Joseph’s voice lacked the intensity of before, the rage quelling to a sickening pit in his stomach. “What did Avalon get then? What made you justify drugging kits, Trill?”
“Their freedom,” he whispered in return. “They promised exemption from service, and reintegration into society for the Blades. They would find their Sheaths, then be welcomed back with no judgment for what they had done. My kit could know of a life beyond the sting of steel, and truly become more than her mother. More than me. She could find her other, then simply disappear, resurfacing as any other female in society, unknown and untainted. I would lose her, but she would gain herself.”
“Last I checked, Tel was on a military ship when she was dropped off here.”
Trill’s claws dug into the stump. “They got their results, then started the draft when the Union struck. The contract was ignored, and my Blades were ripped from my grasp one by one. They used everything to find, capture, then force them into service. Gone was their freedom, gone was the promise of a life they could mould with their own paws, and gone was the contract... I arrived at my kit’s hideout too late. They had taken her, and they had no intention of returning to me what was mine.”
Silence lingered between them as Joseph considered the words offered to him. As revolting and disturbing as it was, he bitterly sympathized with the idea of a father making such a mistake when his child’s future was ensured. It just didn’t add up...
“What does that have to do with trying to paw off Tel onto random males?”
“They were hardly random,” Trill corrected weakly. “I selected those who would prove ambitious and of bountiful worth. I picked the ones who would be able to support whatever endeavours she sought.”
“She wanted to choose her own.”
“She did, and cost millions their lives,” the Blademaster spat. “My kit chose one who had sought the end of an entire city, applied everything he needed along the way, then convinced her to set the explosives. By the time she realized what she had assisted, he was dead on her dagger, and the fail-safe detonator sent the city aflame.”
Joseph’s jaw dropped, Trill chuckling dryly at his disbelief.
“Imagine my surprise when she returned to me with a meek alien of all things, bearing her mark. From one Void-bent on destruction, to one determined to defend what was his, yet too weak to do so.” His gaze dropped to the golden grass. “She made no vow, nor informed him of what her loyalty entailed. She clung to her past, her mother’s past, and a fear of repeating that which scars her flesh. Of course I selected others—she was hesitant to choose at all... I wished to give her the future that was robbed from her anew. I wished to give her power.”
“Until Hasen abused the contract.”
Trill nodded. “It was framed so that my kit might rule. She would gather her following, then claim the world that they abandoned her on. Her refusal to oblige my demands would drive her to new heights, and I would have conveniently broken my own rule, nullifying the contract.” He waved a paw in Joseph’s direction. “Yet she found one who met the impossible conditions, claimed him, then was content to remain passive, leaving another to discover the path I carefully laid out. It has...complicated things.”
The bile rose again, pulling with it the tender flesh of loss. “It cost someone very dear to me, Trill.”
The male glanced up, returning his gaze to the ground after a moment. “It has cost many the same, Joseph, though I can not claim innocence in my involvement.”
“Forgive me for not thinking that the one who trains assassins is a person of virtue.”
“I never claimed as much.” The Blademaster paused, taking a moment to collect himself. “Regardless, I find myself in your debt, in one way or another.”
“For?”
“I watched your arrival, Joseph. Do you know what I saw from the shadows?”
“Can we skip the rhetorical questions?”
Trill sighed, his muzzle failing to hide the amusement. “So be it. I saw my kit smile. Surrounded by aliens and the soldiers belonging to the ones who stole her future, she smiled, blissfully content by your side. Alert, true, but happy.” His gaze faltered as he looked away. “The expression that had been nothing more than a forced facade since her mother passed, then eliminated after her trial. Think of me what you will, and despise my methods as you must, but I only seek to use my Blades to forge a place for others. I am very particular with the contracts I sign, Joseph, and your involvement has inadvertently extended to several.”
“I only signed one, Trill. Don’t drag me into your dealings with others.”
The male flicked out a quill, twirling it between his claws. “Ah, but you have become a part of my kit’s. You see, she is bound to two contracts. One of which is her search for an unmarked Grand Hunter to claim as her Sheath, in exchange for release from my meddling—an amendment to her original agreement, as it were. I am willing to accept the completion of that arrangement.”
Great. Not exactly how he pictured it when he thought of a father ‘giving away’ his daughter for marriage, but it technically counted.
“The other is more complicated, and is one in which you play an interesting role.”
Joseph scrubbed his face with his hands, tired of the emotional whiplash the conversation was giving him. “Fantastic. What’s next, I chop off an arm or something?”
Trill stood, taking a few strides before glancing over his shoulder. “It is not your contract, Joseph, and thus, not your information to know.”
“Well, you owe me something, apparently. What do I get? Peace and quiet?”
“A favour,” the Blademaster answered simply. “I have my own plans, of course, but I will adhere to a request you have.”
Joseph opened his mouth to quip or demand to be left alone, but Trill’s gaze gave him pause.
“Avalon is a very powerful ally to have, Grand Hunter. I will accept any request, be it my own life, or the claim of the entirety of the Lilhun people. Speak it, and it will be yours. This scale is weighed in your favour, for you have given me that which I sought most. By my own convictions, I present this opportunity to you. No cost is too great.”
He swallowed, suddenly wishing he had just stabbed the male and dealt with the consequences. “I’m not enslaving your species, Trill.”
A genuine smile was returned, lacking the malicious edge or calculating tint. “I know. Consider your request, Joseph. I must take my leave.”
“Wait—“
The male jumped back, barely dodging the roped dagger that embedded itself into the dirt. The whirring of Tel’s ratcheting mechanism yanked it free, returning it for another throw. A shallow bow was all that Trill replied with before he pulled a device from his pocket, tossing it in front of him. The soft pop billowed a dense smoke, leaving behind nothing when it cleared a few seconds later.
If Joseph hadn’t already made the ninja joke before this, he would have now.
Tel tore forward, her feet digging into the ground as she forced herself to a stop in front of him, each paw holding a dagger by the line connecting it to the box on her back. She was still wearing the small top and shorts she liked to sleep in, so gearing up was likely a rush job. Her fur was bristling and her teeth were exposed, the low growl pairing with her eyes scanning the area as she adamantly kept herself between him and anything that might try something. Reluctantly accepting that they were alone, she forcefully slammed her knives into the sheath on her thigh, turning her attention to him by grabbing his face and roughly inspecting him for injuries.
“You are in an encampment with the Blademaster of Avalon, and think it wise to leave without a guard.”
His mild annoyance at being manhandled was replaced by a bitter acceptance. “I just needed some air, Tel. He didn’t do anything, anyway.”
She bore into him with a furious glare. “What if that was not the case? What am I to do if my mate is bled dry while I foolishly allowed him to be harmed? What if another Blade sought to end you, Joseph? We are not within your walls. There is no pack to bend to your will, nor take the brunt of harm intended for you. You are but one mistake from the Void.”
He watched with surprise as tears built up in her enraged eyes, each blink freeing more as her voice grew hoarse. “He just wanted to talk. I have my daggers on me anyway.”
Her claws pressed against his skin as her grip tightened. “He had many Blades surrounding here, Joseph. His influence extends much further than the petty settlement he has claimed on this planet. What reply do you have to dozens of guns being but a flick of his wrist from riddling you with burns and holes? What would you have me tell Pan before the bond ripped our will to live, and after we have devoted what remained of it to purging those whom we could reach? What would I tell Violet? Trill is behind many sent to their end, one more is naught but an increment in his legacy to him.”
His throat tightened, choking off any answer he could have had as his fiancee peppered him with queries he didn’t actually consider when he abandoned the idea of violence. It left him with the spiteful question Trill had brought with him.
“Has he bombed a city of millions?”
He regretted it as soon as it left his mouth.
Tel recoiled as if he had slapped her, freeing him from her grasp and taking a few staggered steps back before scowling at the ground between them. “How much did he tell you?”
His breath hitched, but he eventually forced his answer to be heard, though softer than the question had come out. “More than you have, apparently. He said you found a Sheath before, and blindly set the explosives wherever he asked.”
Her paw fell to her inner thigh, covering where a small scar lay. He had noticed it on a few occasions, but never bothered to put thought into it. “I...”
“You said you wouldn’t keep secrets, Tel.” He fought the guilt for bringing it up, but knew that if he didn’t, it would poison and sour their relationship. He had come to terms with her past life, sure, but this was... It was too much to leave unanswered.
A tear fell to the grass after a minute of silence, followed swiftly by another. Her voice crept out in a low whisper, bitter and angry. “I never claimed him as my Sheath, but I wished to.”
“And that justifies it?”
“I never questioned it,” she admitted quietly. Far from the usual excitement that burned behind her eyes after sparing or violence, there rested only regret and an old grudge to stare aimlessly down. “I was advised by my Blademaster that he was not suitable, but I sought to prove him wrong, to claim that which my predecessor failed to. I saw a powerful male with drive and conviction for his cause. I saw one who would wield me to further his goals and craft more than he removed. I was taken by his honeyed words and confidence. He had influence, and would not hesitate to use it. He would rule, and I, his loyal Blade, would pave the path he walked with the bodies of his opposers.”
The other part of Trill’s recollection came to mind. “But you killed him.”
She nodded, holding up a paw to inspect it, treating the fur as if it was still damp with blood. “A Blade is to remove that which will hinder our Sheath. We dedicate ourselves singularly, and receive it in kind. Two parts of a whole, achieving that which either alone could not—equal in importance, but not in purpose.” Her paw tightened into a fist. “We are not tools for aimless bloodshed and wanton destruction.”
Her form shrunk further as the dull rage left her body.
“I was not even considered to be his Blade. I discovered him being claimed by another, and unveiled his true plans for the packages I had spent a season meticulously placing under the guise of supply drops. My loyalty was discarded, and my tasks little more than terrorism for the sake of terrorism. I bled them both, then watched as the city erupted. The reason I was given for his misdeeds, for taking my love as little more than an amusing happenstance? None. It was entertainment to watch one such as I—the kit of the Blademaster—bend a knee to his will, blindly obeying his commands, and yearning for his touch.”
She tugged at her shorts, exposing herself to the open air and angling her leg to run a claw along her scar. “I was branded for my actions; none would accept a Blade who had erred greatly enough to wear their disgrace where any potential Sheath would see it. Any attempt would be met with their failure drawing the eye. It would remind others that the one they saw was disloyal, and none would seek a disloyal Blade.”
“Tel...”
She stepped over her discarded clothing, freeing herself of the rest as she approached. Daggers, her ratcheting box, and her top all left a trail to him, her naked body on display, given only the illusion of modesty by her fur. She stopped just in front of him, holding her arms out slightly at her sides.
“Look, Joseph. See what a failure you have given your heart to looks like. See the sin beyond my nature that I carry. Fear the moon that my claws are behind the dagger in your ribs, because I bear the brand of one who would do such.” She drew a shaking breath, slowly cupping his face in her paws as droplets flowed from her cheeks. “I ask not for forgiveness for not telling you, for I do not regret it. I only ask you allow me your touch one last time.”
He furrowed his brow as he mentally caught up, his mind lingering on the fact that she had actually said that she loved someone. Even in their time together, she had never used the word. She would kiss, cuddle, pamper, and everything else that came with it, but the exact word had never been uttered. He never minded—the way she acted said enough—but with the new information, it just brought the thought forward. Add in the rare display of crying, and it was clear she carried it with a heavy heart.
Wait.
“What do you mean ‘one last time?’”
Tel forced a smile. “I am a bringer of death far greater than you were led to believe, Joseph. We both know your thoughts on such. If I am to be abandoned, I wish it to be with your warmth lingering behind, so that I may have a piece of you to carry with me to the Void.”
He reached up to grab her wrist, his other hand brushing away the dampness. “You were manipulated, Tel.”
“I am a failure as a Blade, and the culmination of all that you despise.”
Joseph stared into his mate’s eyes, seeing the pain and fear, as well as the small hope that he would accept her offer. “Do you love me?”
“You are my Sheath,” she whispered, the hope fading.
“Do you love me?”
She opened her mouth, but nothing besides a choked chirp came out. The terror she held grew until she shut her eyes, reluctant sobbing taking over in slow, powerful waves. “I do. I love all of you more than life itself, so please let me have a piece of it to see me off, so that I might hold some for my endless drifting. My body may grow cold, and my sins may follow, but it would be bearable if I had just that. Please, before I have time to abandon my pride as well.”
He pulled her in, enveloping her in his arms. “Am I going to be stabbed for Pan?”
She fell quiet, tucked in against his neck, shaking her head as much as she could without breaking the contact. The cool dampness of her fur bleed into him, but he was content to offer his warmth. “She is a part of you.”
He returned a dry laugh. “Make sure to tell her too, then. I don’t think anything will make her sun better than having everyone back and hearing you say that.”
“You...still accept me?”
“Tel…this planet, the pack, the Grand Hunters...everything has been too much for me. I couldn’t have done it without you and Pan there. What you did was...horrible. I want to believe that you never meant to do it—that you really were just lied to and manipulated—but do you know why I’m choosing to trust that you were?”
Another shake of her head, the words being too difficult to get out. Her touch on him was light, barely skimming the surface as it hovered over his skin.
“Because I have never seen you look that way for the things you’ve done. Prideful, dismissive, excited, sure, but never remorseful.” He shifted his grip, petting her fur as he held her close. “Is that why you chose me? Because you thought I wouldn’t ever try to do something like that?”
She started a nod, but hesitated. “I knew that any life you wished to end would be because more would fall if they continued. Blades are not a righteous entity, Joseph, but we do not abide by the death of another without cause. It is not what we are. It is not what we were made to be. Some might slip from that vision, but I wish never to do so again.”
He held her tighter, squeezing the soft flesh against him. “Then I know I was right to love you.”
Tel’s arms wrapped around him, her claws digging into his back as she broke down. In the morning, his usual fiancee would return, cocky and seductive, but for tonight, she was someone who was accepted despite her deepest flaws. She buried her face into his neck as much as she could and then some as she cried, murmuring words that she held back desperately for so long like she was making up for lost time.
“I love you, Joseph. I love you so much. I love you, and Pan, and Violet, and Daisy, and Sahari, and the rest of the pack. I love everything you have given me, and everything you will gain to share with me. I love you.”
He rubbed her back and let her emotions flood outward, a part of him still lingering on his conversation with Trill while the rest coaxed out years of regret.
He had two favours to call in—one from the UM, and one from Avalon. With the congressional being the event to decide what happens from here on out, those were very powerful cards to have up his sleeves. He couldn’t help but wonder about what contracts he had somehow ended up tied to, and how that would affect him. Would he be screwed over by dealings unknown, or was there a hint somewhere that told him more?
He let the conversation play in his head as Tel whispered her affirmations, eventually settling into simply holding him like he would vanish into the breeze if she were to let go.
“We should head in. See if we can’t get a bit more sleep before tomorrow,” he offered. Tel stayed silent, surprising him with a strong bite to his shoulder, her teeth piercing flesh as she marked him. She lingered, pulling away to lick the shallow wounds. Only when she was satisfied did she separate, looking at him with damp eyes and a small smile.
“As you wish, my love.”
He never heard her voice sound so sweet.