Blades and Claws (Lady Dimitrescu x Female Reader)

2. Exile

You opened your eyes, but it felt like you just died. Physical pain and headache were tearing your body apart. You raised your head. Even your surroundings looked like you actually died and entered the gates of hell. Everything was covered in blood. Floor, even walls, your hands and clothes, the bodies around. You tried not to think about whose bodies these were to get your emotions together, otherwise you would cry yourself to death. The idea of death didn't seem so scary now, though.

Sobbing and shaking, you got up from the floor and ran to the second floor, locking yourself in the bathroom as if it would really lock you out from everything around.

You hastily washed the blood off your body and changed to a new set of clothes.

'What do I even do now?...'

'I have to bury them properly,' was the first thing that came to your mind.

You're gonna need help with that. And there's only one person you could really trust in this village – the swordmaster. Need to find him.

'God, I hope he's alive. He must be.'

You slowly went down the stairs and left the house.

Bright morning light blinded your tear-swollen eyes, you squinted and looked around. The village was recovering from the attack: fires were extinguished, there was only smoke still coming from some buildings, healers were tending to the injured.

Fortunately, your teacher was unharmed. To be honest, you wouldn't expect him to be injured in a fight against common bandit scum. He's the best warrior in the village, after all. Maybe in the whole country – but you haven't really seen anything outside of these local houses.

"I need... your help," you told him, voice breaking.

He seemed to realize what is going on. This was the first time you saw compassion in his eyes.

Without saying anything else, you two arrived at your house. It wasn't your home anymore. Just a house.

Time passed. Master called for more people, they helped him with the bodies and brought your parents to the cemetery, graves were already dug out by others.

You felt dissonance. Like your old life has ended. Everything has disappeared, there was nothing else for you in this village. Bridges are burnt. Only one bridge left to burn yet.

You were consumed by these thoughts as you watched your parents being buried.

After the tombstones were installed, workers left. You kneeled before your parent's graves.

"I'm sorry. I can't live here anymore. Not after everything that happened," you whispered as if they could hear you.

Your house, although quite expensive, was unusable now – the wooden floor was soaked in blood, and no one else would live in a house marked by several tragic deaths.

This will be your last night in this house. And the last night for this house, too.

You laid down on your bed and drowned in a dreamless sleep.

_____

The morning was cloudy and foggy. This all felt like a neverending nightmare – even the weather reminded you of that.

You changed your clothes to your favorite mournful all-black outfit including a black hooded robe and packed your backpack with everything you might need. Sharpened your sword and daggers once again, equipping them immediately – sword behind your back and two daggers in scabbards attached to a girdle on each side of your hip. You looked in the mirror. Time to burn the last bridge.