A Tale of: The Widow and The Crown

One: The Widow

As the dark crimson painted Anastasia's emerald, slim-fit gown, complete with two slits that showed her milky pale legs, she moved quickly and wasted no time in hiding her family heirloom dagger into its sheath attached to her upper thigh; the blade made up of silver and sharp enough to draw not only blood but also bone, and the three diamond moons decorated the matching hilt.

Moonlight showered over the room from the very windows that Anastasia made her exit, out onto the connecting buildings roof and over a few more, down a fire escape, and ever so calmly walked the streets of the quiet early morning capitol with her mists of a shadow hiding her from anyone and everyone that passed by; shadow, mist, and darkness was the rarest and one of the most dangerous gifts a Fae could posses.

Of course Anastasia had to be cursed with this evil, all thanks to her horrenous mother.

But these curses made her who she was and allowed her to do what most called 'dirty work', she called it 'life-saver' and ironically enough, her job was a life-taker. Ever since Anastasia had been a young girl, she had been trained to kill both the 'good', 'bad', and whoever the hell was in the middle; money was the only perk to this job besides the fact she had free will to take whatever cases, or lives, she pleased - although there was never pleasure in taking a soul. The ink etchings that decorated her back could tell you that...

"Ah, the Widow returns," Smirked an old friend, his lips blowing out smoke after taking a drag. Shadow mists uncurled from Anastasia as Lorcan spoke, his deep voice and alike shadows dancing with hers; his light blue eyes focused on the crimson stains.

"And so does the Viper," These were the only names that the public, on rare occasions, called them; the press never knew who the Widow or the Viper really were besides assassins gifted with danger, fear, and the very essence of Hell.

Anastasia took a bold step forward, taking the rolled cigarette from the Vipers large hands and savouring a drag for herself; Lorcan watched those pretty pink lips and cursed the Sun God above for not making the beauty in front of him his mate. He knew just how brave, smart, and -mostly on drunken occasions- how funny this beautiful Fae could be; not to mention the way her curves reminded him of a river. Golden hair, stormy eyes, milky skin; daydreams of her often made Lorcan tight in the pants.

"So," She blew the smoke out, lightly it danced in Lorcans face, and handed the cigarette back to the 6 '0 man who took it like a mother would reach for her newborn baby. "What brings you to this hellish city?"

She already knew the answer.

"Same reason that brought you here," Lorcan flicked the cigarette onto the cobblestone, smashing the ash with a dark tan, leather shoe. Above them, clouds started rolling in and covered the moon, laughter of drunken beings a few streets over echoed hollowly. "Delcan," Lorcan's older brother, who possessed the same rare gift, matched the same blue eyes, short brown hair, and height as his brother. "Is upstairs... Wanna see him?"

"Of course," Anastasia smiled. Following Lorcan into the apartment building that reeked of mold and sitting water, Anastasia knew better than worry about her appearance; anyone with the curse of darkness knew what their people did, never did we judge each other (like other Fae powers would), it was an unspoken rule. Better blood than bone.

Each step on the dark hardwood floor creaked, even as both of them were light on their feet, going up a few staircases, passing three doors, and after Lorcan unlocked the old wood door with a golden key, the sweet scent of citrus drifted. Walking into the small apartment, Anastasia's grey eyes sparkled as she saw Delcan lounging on the old, tattered grey couch; pushing past Lorcan, she ran towards the older Fae.

"Oh my Gods above," Delcan chuckled as Anastasia plopped down in his lap, his ocean eyes landing on the younger Fae he thought of like a younger sister; unlike his brother. "Anna," Delcan pulled the unrelated-younger-sister into a tight hug, his warmth invading her usual cold self, and breathed in her scent of what was usually a spring perfume now dulled by whoever or whatever she had just killed.

"Dee," As they pulled away from each others embrace, neither of them missed the way Lorcan tensed.

"I haven't seen you since..." Both men hated the way Anastasia's stormy eyes lost emotion with the thought of that night, the very last night she saw-"Let's get you cleaned up, Anna," Delcan spoke softly now, feeling Anna's mist and shadows trying to hide her presence, his own cool exterior trying not to break. Lorcan caught the warning in his brother's eyes of not pushing the subject.

An hour filled with a bath, shaving, and changing into Lorcan's black, oversized sweater, Anastasia was finally at ease once again; the three of them sharing a quick bottle of whiskey and a small packet of cheap chocolate and caramel candies, catching up with each other, before they finally went to sleep. In just a few short hours, the sun would rise and what brought most 'dark' Fae to the capital would be revealed...

The only question being, who would accept the job?