𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 | ❝Monsters don't get happy endings.❞
Rennen of Skellige was a cold-blooded killer, an assassin from the mysterious Dark Brotherhood. She liked to think that a life of blood and bruises was what she was made for, a life that was...
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ CHAPTER EIGHT ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ the disappearance of the assassin
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THE WIND CARRIED THE whispers of the Dread Mother to anyone who would listen. Carried through the branches of the trees and shrubs, wove itself with the soft chirping of birds and the gurgle of water over rocks. A lullaby in search of children it could lull to sleep, beckon them to the warmth of Her arms like every other child that had befallen to Her world and Her command.
Rennen was no child. No matter how much the Dread Mother sang with the wind, she would not waver.
She sat still, the cool metal of the Dark Brotherhood's broach warm beneath her fingers as she twirled it. Her brown eyes focused on the gleaming gold of it, the way the shadows of her fingers danced across the handprint with the flames. It was who she had become since she left the isle, who she was ever since she prayed and the Brotherhood took her beneath their arms.
She was an assassin, there was no space for her to be anything else.
An unsteady breath left her mouth as she craned her neck back, a soft crack from the space between her bones, an easiness that soothed her muscles. The sky above her held traces of the sun, rays of goldenrod in a deep purple sky that held countless souls or realms between the stars. A sun would rise over the sky, push away the stars until there was nothing but blue and specks of white.
An oncoming goodbye.
Her eyes moved from the sky to the sleeping bard by her side, naked chest with nail scratches rising and falling with each breath he took. He was a secret she told no one about, kept it close to her skin with every mark that he made with his lips and his hands. Secret meetings in taverns and inns, a room with a single candle as the bard kissed her and made her come undone in the uncomfortable beds or in front of warm fireplaces; a gentle bath where he helped her clean the blood from her skin with a sponge and the scent of freesias and apricot surrounding them.
How many times had she met with the bard throughout the years? Her secret.
Yet, the bard had let everyone know he fucked an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood through one of his ballads. His voice had carried through the countless taverns and inns he visited, the strum of his lute an enchantment others could not stop listening to. And when Rennen heard the song, she had grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and pushed him towards one of the many rooms in the tavern. She almost hit his head against the wall, over and over again until red decorated the wood, but she couldn't.
How could she kill the bard that fucked her so well and whispered the sweetest things into her ear? He was the one that allowed her to breathe in the midst of all the bloodshed, to be something more than the assassin she had become. Instead of killing him, she kissed him. Again and again, until he did the very things he sang about.
