DRAGONFLY

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by fakehxppy

by fakehxppy

dragonfly

I'LL BURN your name into my throat.
I'LL BE the fire that'll catch you.

WHEN IS FREEDOM never really freedom?

Saffron Ithaka had forsaken that when she was twenty-three. She deserves it, deserves to be locked away. She knows that and won't argue against it. It was why she'd plead guilty, with glee in her eyes, of the murder of the parents who made every day a waking nightmare. She'd never regretted it, only wished she didn't have to spend her days inside damp walls, being torn apart every morning and put back together every night.

When is freedom never really freedom?

When the sun shines on her skin and she breathes the fresh air, and no guard tears her open and lets a medwitch sew her shut, but she's tethered to a person who demands blood and torture. She's allowed to see the days; to walk down by the river, to climb the seven hills around the Eternal City. And she's allowed out every night; for wine and hard liquor and whatever drugs she can get her hands on. To dance in seedy clubs that smell like stale beer and take home whoever she wants. But when her handler calls, she must come. No matter what she's doing. When Estella Bright calls, she's only an assassin, the best in her troupe, and not Saffron Ithaka. Not herself.

The night Estella calls on her for the job, she's so high on lightseeker that the world is nothing but a blur of light. She remembers someone's hands on her waist, someone else's lips on her neck, a third pressed against her back. And she remembers the buzzing on her phone on the table of the bar, and how her senses zeroed in on the light flashing from the table.

Her voice is grave when she tells her; a job so lucrative it would buy her freedom, a life beyond. A difficult job, terrible and horrible.

To kill the Auxiliary Leaders of the Crescent City.

Starting with the Autumn King's son, Ruhn Danaan.

as described as
SAFFRON ITHAKA