𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑— 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌?

.ೃ࿐ᴱᶜʰᵒˡᵒᶜᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ

And I felt love for the first time, whilst all he felt when he saw me was the triumph of his deceit.—A Palace Of Ulric Labyrinths, Elvira Crest.

|Than|

|Eastern Neon District|

THE PLANET of Than was certainly indecisive when it came to its weather. Some miles down, snow beat viciously into the grass, concealing all presence of natured green. From where Séraph remained, once again swallowed by the crowd of bodies belonging to Than civilians, she could feel the touch of the suns, patting and caressing her on the scalp of her head like loving mothers, guiding her body slick through the crowd. She wasn't one to complain, she and Scarlet were accustomed to the regular change of environment, and the drastic change of time when it came to their missions. In all honesty, that seemed to be the only thing that she hated about their missions, that and the fact that they came to an end.

"Oh, Scaaarlet," Séraph spoke in a sing-song, eyes cutting to the man in question some bodies away from her, going in the same direction. A smirk broke her face as his eyes cut in her direction, his stride unwavering as they continued on.

"What do you want?" he asked back rudely into the device in his ear. He wasn't fooling her though, Séraph had grown up around Scarlet long enough to know how to read his tone, analyse the shifts of his movement. He was usually velvety in his ways, but every so and now on their missions, she would see a miniature slip-up, proof of his feeling.

"Scarlet," Séraph repeated in the same dovey manner, getting an irked 'what' from her raven-haired companion. To be truthful, Séraph didn't have much to say to him, all she wanted was to hear his voice, rope herself from her own thoughts and away from the horrible ambience of Than's streets. "I forgot," she mumbled with faux disappointment, smiling at the grumbled insult Scarlet sent her way.

I guess that helped in a way.

A quarter of an hour must have passed until the found themselves in the neon districts of Than's eastern streets. The previously warm-lit lights were no longer in sight, the rainbow streams of light flickering and dashing across the pupils of Séraph's eyes as she took everything in. What a sight. She found herself drawn to the store with holographic displays, watching and taking the fluid sways of the figures they generated.

"Séra," came that familiar voice, the hand on her shoulder not taking her by surprise as it would've have if it weren't for the warmth of the man she recognised as her brother. She turned to Scarlet who now stood beside her, looking at her with creased brows. Séraph towered over him by an inch and a half, the difference in height was not big as they watched each other from a balanced eye level. "I-" He tussled with his words, opening and closing his mouth for whatever failed condolence trying to make its way out.

His hands travelled to the creak behind his jaw, just below his ear and with an almost inaudible beep, his face came into display, the foreign face which watched her moments ago no longer in sight as Scarlet's real face looked into her. Idiot.

His hand travelled to the button behind her jaw, placed in the same position as his. He pressed it gently as Séraph watched him without any expression on her face, feeling the tingles of her device wash away the stranger and reveal her true set of features to Scarlet. He furrowed his brows further, trying to talk with the crease of his eyes and the fall of his brows.

"Are you going to cry?" Séraph spoke condescendingly, her voice crisp in the air and trapped in the bubble of focus Scarlet had built around them, trying to tease the man and scrub away the heavy air of reality. She felt his fingers flex on her shoulders a little where they now laid, but apart from that, he gave no response. He let go of her, thinking.

Séraph knew what Scarlet was doing. He was trying to reassure her, comfort her, and for whatever reason, she wasn't sure. But she appreciated it regardless, knowing the difficulty which came with expressing something both he and she were taught was wrong from a young age in Alec, a message beaten into them. This wasn't the first time he had tried this, never being able to formulate his words and giving up after choking on some sincerity she knew he had been stocking and piling up inside of him these passing years. The attempts alone were enough to tell her how he felt, how he had worried. All for her.

Say it, Séraph promoted in her mind, please just say it. Like a child seeking their parent's approval. I deserve this.

Scarlet pat her head, ruffling her hair a bit as he said almost solemnly, "Nobody is immortal; everybody will die."

Séraph couldn't help but cackle at his declaration, earning her an offended, yet enlivened stare from Scarlet.

"What?"

"Honestly," Séraph chimed through her giggles, wiping the under of her eyes. "How ominous of you, Scarlet. I never knew you had it out for me like that."

"I would never harm you," Scarlet grumbled, smacking the top of Séraph's head as he turned his head away with a frown. "You know what I meant."

"Huh," Séraph replied amused, eyeing him with her chin low and eyes high. Gotcha. She knew what he meant, knew the warning was his way of saying he didn't want her hurt or dead, but she found it funny to see him annoyed. "Yeah, I'm not sure. Can you rephrase it? " Or pretending to be annoyed, she knew he was anything but annoyed with her at the moment as his eyes found her again, laced with that same worry.

"Pretty, pretty please?"

She knew it wasn't right to crack jokes in response to his concern, but a part of her feared his vulnerability, made her scared to see the man she always knew to be nothing by strong and closed up displaying something away from that. It felt wrong. It scared her because it reminded her that she could feel as well, that all the numbness and nothingness was just a veil for something else.

That's ridiculous, she walked over the theorizing thoughts, cutting them completely off, I'm not coping, this is just the way I am.

Her shoulder became heavy, forcing her to snap out of her thinking and focus on Scarlet who had placed his hands on her shoulders again, begging for her attention. "I can't lose you, Séra, please," he gave out, eyes bright against the neon glares about them. He shifted his hold, grabbing onto her face to bring back the girl before him, stopping her from turning away or racking through her thoughts for whatever joke he knew she sought to shoot down the concern. "Séra," he called, her eyes snapping up to his again. "Please."

Damn you, Scarlet, she jabbed mentally.

"Yeah," she whispered, not trusting anything else to slip out as she felt her throat constrict. Damn it, she was feeling. "I know." Realising that there was a chance to his words, a possibility of her dying, a chance that had been up since their first mission.

Something was hurting inside of her, something she favoured to neglect.

A possibility similar to her losing the boy who was the only ever person who had the time of day to worry about her, just as she was doing for him now. Scarlet could die...what would I even do if that ever happened?

Nothing, something grazed, and you'd be nothing.

"I'll never forgive you," spoke Scarlet, very stern in his declaration as he watched Séraph, the only person he had. His family. He would be the very thing he feared without her, truly alone. "If you die," he finished, eyes weak. "I'd hate you just as much as I'd miss you." The cold peck he placed on her forehead reminded her of the warmth of Than, the suffocation of the streets they remained planted.

They had a mission.

Scarlet let her go, observing to see if the message set in. Don't die on me. "The same goes for you, moron, " Séraph said, not looking him in the eyes. Fuck. "I'll bring you back from the dead and torture you to death myself," she couldn't help but joke, her words blank as they always were. Anyone who didn't know her would've assumed it was a malicious threat but Scarlet knew better. Just behind the empty, there was something. An earnest coat held her words.

Don't fucking die on me, asshole.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Awe." Scarlet chuckled, pinching her cheek as he spoke in a babied voice, "Awe, is wittle Sèra worried about wittle old me?" Her eyes blackened with displeasure at his mock. She smacked his pulling fingers away from her cheek as she sneered his way.

"Fuck off and die," she spat, her usual heat not as brutal as she pushed passed the taller man and onwards. She clicked on the button just behind her jaw, replacing her face with a new set of features as Scarlet did the same, trailing after her. His smile was as bright as the holograms which seared light into every crevice of the area. He knows she doesn't mean it. His cheeks pinched higher.

"See," he started, now side by side with Séraph as they strolled through the crowd. "Now you know how annoying that is."

"We're here," she announced, ignoring his statement. They had stopped before an open bar, just squashed in the centre of the neon district. It was prettier than the one Séraph had stumbled upon the first and last time she had encountered the royal couple, her eyes taking in the warm orange lights which consumed the place. "I want a drink," Séraph spoke, making her way towards the clove of the place which held the stools and where people were ordering. Scarlet let out a grumble, nodding his head at the message.

You deal with them, I'll be over there.

She found an empty stool and plopping down, she rested her head on her palms, balancing herself on her elbows as she watched people be served. A bartender spoke something to her and she spat the first drink that came to her mind, turning her head to scour the place for Scarlet's head.

Scarlet sat in a booth with the couple, hands clasped as he spoke to the prince who, in her opinion, looked displeased at the fact he was even there to start. Her eyes shifted to the side of Prince Levion, her gaze stopping on a familiar set of eyes which seemed to be glued to her. Séraph racked her brain for the name of the woman, Prince Levion's girlfriend. Esme, right? Or was it fiancée? It hurt her to pretend she even cared.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she watched the woman making her way towards her, Séraph's eyes flashing to Levion who had stopped his discussion with Scarlet to watch Esme make her way towards Séraph, dread and absolute fear pumping his veins. His fear amused the assassin, excited her.

Fucking pussy.

She couldn't fault him for his fear though. She had heard her code name slip his lips before on one of her missions, calling for her capture on the city's loudspeakers with a price on her head which she couldn't remember. She doubted he had ever expected to meet her, step a foot away from his palace and closer to the person at the top of his planet's to-be-hunted list.

Séraph faced forward again, watching the bartender place a rose-red drink before her and stick his hands out. She pulled out one of the loose notes in her left pocket, not caring for how much it was as she let it drop into his hand.

100, what a waste. The man watched her a bit perplexed, waiting for her to take back the large bill and replace it with something smaller, but she did not do such.

"Keep the whole thing," she stated bored, twirling the wooden umbrella that sat in her drink between her fingers. She heard a noise to the side of her, her eyes finding Esme who struggled the prop herself up on the stool beside Séraph, the legs meeting a little over halfway up her torso.

A mumble left Séraph's mouth as she got off her own, her hold catching Esme's sides, who at the contact had tensed, grasp finding the arms which held her waist as watched Séraph with large, fearful eyes. Séraph ignored the shrinking response and raised the shorter girl up with a single pull, placing her down on the stool to the right of her own before letting go and situating herself back down on her own stool.

"Thank you," whispered the woman beside Séraph, audibly beading sweat as she faced forward as well. Séraph paid her no attention, her eyes jumping over her shoulder and to the blond man who clenched the edge of the booth table, secreting fear visibly.

What a pain.

"This means a lot to us," started Esme, watching The Tempest take a sip of her drink, eyes now stuck forward. Regardless of the lack of response, she could still tell the woman was listening to her. "You and your friend helping us out of the planet, I mean," she finished, browsing the customers around them.

The was a miniature pause before she turned back to the taller woman, eyeing her. " Your friend seems to really know what he's talking about," she spoke, catching Séraph's attention, her watch swinging in Esme's direction, not moving her head as she did. "Hearing him gives me a boost of hope. He seems nice."

The Tempest coughed out an amused chuckle, a smile gracing her face. Esme only watched her, not knowing what else to say. Her laugh was husky, strained from the way she angled her head high up. Did that count as her saying something back?

"You're not very discreet, you realise?" spoke the assassin, both baffling Esme at the fact she had finally said something back and at the fact she did not understand the meaning of her words.

"Pardon?"

"I'm assuming you two had prepped the outfits beforehand, to fit in and all," The Tempest replied, looking Esme up and down, spiking the smaller woman's nerves. "But you don't do a very good job at it...blending in."

"Oh," was all Esme said. In all honesty, she had borrowed the outfit from one of Levion's maids, assuming it would help her in the outer city but maybe that was a mistake. Esme didn't say anything, only realising that perhaps what everyone within the inner city was used to differed greatly compared to the customs and norms of those in the outer regions, a difference with even those who struggled to get by.

I should have asked Rosary to help me.

"You're much different compared to the way people talk about you," came Esme's light voice again, quiet and hushed as she spoke to Séraph. "At least, I think...people talk about you like you're some kind of animal, not human."

"Yeah?"

"I've heard...you...you tortured a family."

"Yeah?"

"You have?"

"Possibly," spoke the assassin, taking another sip of her drink. "Too many things to remember."

"Even children?" whispered Esme, dread building up in her stomach. The other woman only lent her a smile, eyes glowing with amusement before turning her gaze forward again.

"I haven't killed a child yet," the woman replied, smiling in thought. "Not physically. But I have definitely killed people they love or need. That tends to kill children."

"Yet?" breathed Esme, clearly queasy at the reveal. "How?

"How what? How would I kill them?"

"How could you live with it? Don't you feel guilty, regretful?"

"No," The Tempest answered, "I don't feel anything."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why don't...why do you..." Esme paused, unsure of how to structure her question.

"You see," spoke The Tempest, poking the other woman's shoulder. "If you can't formulate it in your mind, it's not worth touching my ears."

"Sorry," muttered Esme, turning her head to the wooden table. "I wasn't trying to be rude. I was just curious, I just wanted to understand."

"Understand what?"

"You," gulped the green-eyed woman, sneaking a glance from the corner of her eye, feeling The Tempest's gaze heavy on her. "But it's not my place."

"Yes, you're correct. It's not."

Esme only hummed at her harsh words, resting her cheek on her propped palm as she threw her another question. "Do you dream?"

The Tempest only gave her a look.

"I met a man some months ago, a farmer. He told me that as a child, he dreamed of being a king," she spoke, eyeing the other woman. "But as he grew up and made his own family, he wished to be a farmer." Séraph only observed her blankly, with no show of care or interest. "You'd never think someone would willingly wish to labour their life away but a few years back, his village was hit with a nasty drought, making them unable to farm. Their animals died, and their crops never grew, meaning him and his people were left hungry. He was a farmer, you see. But since it was near impossible for him to farm, he dreamed about it. Dreamed of being a farmer."

"That sounds like a draining and pitiful life to live," replied the other woman, seeming a tad bit absorbed.

Esme ignored the criticism. "So, do you dream?"

"Only people who are deficient in something dream," replied The Tempest, taking another swing of her drink. "I have more than I could have asked for. It would be ludicrous for me to even contemplate dreaming."

"But—"

"You ladies having a nice chat?" a new voice cut Esme off, clearly intoxicated and pointed at the back of their heads. Esme turned behind her, taking in the fat man who stood behind them, eyes wide as if she had been caught sinning.

"Me?" Esme blurted, confused at the fact that she was being called out by someone she did not recognise. What did he want? Was her cover blown?

"Don't acknowledge it," spoke someone beside her, her eyes finding The Tempest who spared her a strict stare before turning away to down the remainder of her drink.

"What was that, you bitch?"

"I said," the woman spoke, standing up from her seat, towering over the older man who huffed out a drunk and short dose of concern at the larger woman who sneered down at him. "I will fucking disembowel you."

"No fighting in that bar," called out the bartender, tapping on the wood before them, pointing towards the exit as he did. "Take it outside."

The Tempest ignored him, tugging Esme off her stool with a pull of her arm. Once her feet found the ground, Séraph nodded her head towards the table Levion and Scarlet sat, still in deep discussion. "Go to your little boyfriend."

Esme bobbed her head, avoiding the plump drunk who staggered in his stand. She spared one last look towards The Tempest who was making her way out of the bar, followed by an oblivious drunk and whether she knew or not, two other men.

"Esme?" Leviton called for her, pulling her in to sit beside him the moment she was within his arm's reach. "Are you alright, my love?"

"I'm fine, dear." Her eyes jumped to the man sitting on the opposite side of the booth of them, watching their interaction devoid of any expression. "The Tempest," muttered Esme, catching the silent man's attention. "She went outside with some men."

She watched as he squinted his eyes at her, amusement lacing the creases. He seemed unbothered at her reveal, not irked by the missing presence of his companion.

"She's more than capable of taking care of herself," he muttered, holding something in his voice...was that anger? No, disappointment. He dropped any sign of emotion as he turned back to Levion. "Do we have a deal?"

"I suppose," acquiesced Levion, soothing the skin of Esme's hand as he held their hands together under the table.

The man slid out of the booth, standing up as he said, "Then I'll be reaching out in a couple of days." And he was gone with that, out of the bar as quick as he had come.

SCARLET turned at the darker corner of the street where the crowd thinned, catching sight of Séraph who crouched before a bleeding middle-aged man, speaking and saying something he couldn't hear from his distance away, shuffling now and then as the pool of the man's blood reached out for her on the ground.

"Tempest," Scarlet called the name as he made his way towards her, careful not to slip out her real name. The half-conscious man let out a cry at his voice, more the name that left it as the realisation set in for the injured man.

The Tempest.

The closer Scarlet got, the more the sight before him registered. Behind her laid two other people—men, groggy and in pain as they withered on the floor.

"Please," the man before her moaned, voice slurred.

"Tempest," Scarlet called in warn, nodding his head to the exit of the alley once her attention fell on him. "Our job is done."

"Boohoo," she fake whined, standing tall. She ravaged for something in her pocket, pulling out a bundle of notes, sticking and soaking in her bloody grasp. "If you wanted these so bad," she said, letting them drop into the flood of red below her as she finished, "You should have just asked. I have no need for them." She lent one last look of detestation to the man before she made her way to Scarlet, the two of them starting the way out of the alley before Séraph paused and turned back.

"Oh," she called. "And tell the bartender, whatever happened to client confidentiality?" She pouted, watching the man's Adam's apple bob with a gulp. "I could take action against him, you know."

And the assassins left at that, Séraph notes now completely soaked red.