Eight Intertwined

18 - Primrose

Even when the blade is held at your heart, faith shall be your shield. 

Primrose Azelhart had heard those words more times than she could hope to count, and yet, they did little to bring her comfort or gratitude as she sat behind a countertop within her father's office of Noblecourt within the estate of her noble family. Her hands were gripping at the wood of a small shelf beneath the surface of the counter, and the digging of the corners into her palms were all that kept her grounded as she looked on at what would come to be the scene that thrived in all of her darkest nightmares and woke her from slumber each night for the rest of her life. 

There were four men standing before her, three of them shrouded in complete shadow. They wore all black clothing and stood in a triangle formation around the final man of the space. It was clear that the last of the figures was trapped with no way of escaping, and his expression remained painfully neutral as he watched his assailants with as much passive detachment as he could manage. Such was the way of Geoffrey Azelhart, the father that Primrose had come to care for so deeply. He was the strongest man that she knew, and yet, not even all the strength in the world could bring the most doomed of souls the salvation that they sought. 

The three men that had her father cornered each wore markings on the visible parts of their bodies. One was coated in black save for his right arm, and the symbol of a crow wound around his limb. Another man was in much the same position, but his marking of the crow was on his left arm rather than his right. The leader of the trio, the one wearing a mask bearing resemblance to the bird they fashioned themselves after, had the symbol winding around his neck, clear as could be to Primrose's horrified and youthful eyes. 

"Funny how it works, isn't it?" the man with the left arm tattoo questioned. "Everything that happens in this world falls into two neat little categories. Things one's better off knowing and things one's better off... Not. Geoffrey Azelhart, I'm afraid you've been poking your nose into the latter."

Primrose's father looked up to the men, his eyes stoic in the face of what he knew was bound to be his downfall. "I have only done what my convictions bade me do. I have no regrets," he declared. His voice was soft and possessed a secret dimension of sentimentality that only meant anything to his hidden daughter. He was unaware of her presence in the first place, and yet, she was confident that those few words were meant for her alone. 

"I thought you might say something like that," the man with the right crow snorted. "You're making this delightfully easy." His voice was a slow drawl, as if he had all the time in the world and he knew it. 

Primrose could see the man with the neck tattoo move forwards in the moments that followed. Her mind screamed for her father, but she forced herself to remain silent. She was well-versed in the ways of darkness, hearing stern teachings from her father about what to do in the case of an emergency, and she knew that her silence was the only thing that was keeping her life from being taken as well. 

Still, not even all the training in the world could stop the way that Primrose's heart shattered when the man with the neck tattoo stepped towards her father and slashed his blade. Geoffrey crumpled to the ground, not even having the chance to cry out in pain before his life flowed away from his gasp. Primrose's eyes were willing up with tears, but she forced herself to remain silent. Her shoulders trembled with impending sobs, but she refused to release them and cast aside the legacy of the man that no others would ever come to understand. 

"Make sure he's dead," the right crow instructed of his comrades. "And let's leave this place before we're seen." His voice had taken on an extra dimension of hardness, and that somehow only made Primrose feel worse, like her heart was being shredded even after being torn in half by the tragedy of her father's untimely demise.