Legacy

thirteen

"Ómorfos..." Jonas' voice was low in his ear, "What is it that you think you are doing?"

Marcus froze, sword held tightly to his chest, making no move to turn towards the other man.

"You weren't going to kill me, were you?" The man crooned into his ear, a finger trailing across his shoulder teasingly.

Marcus had to chuckle, "Don't be foolish. Not yet, anyway."

Jonas' hand clasped his shoulder, jerking him around so they were facing each other. He couldn't help but cower at the disapproving look on his usually beaming face.

"You can't kill them òmorfos." He murmured, keeping his voice low in the quiet night, "Not yet. We need them."

"Do we?" Marcus whispered, acutely aware of the six men fast asleep around them, "We could do just fine on our own."

"And we will. But not yet." Jonas' hand remained on his shoulder and Marcus refused to melt into the sensation.

Marcus had found that Jonas was becoming a bit of a weakness for him, and he hated being weak. But he couldn't help himself - Jonas was extremely charming after all. He knew not to let himself get in too deep, that Jonas was likely only stringing him along until he got what he wanted, but he couldn't help the way his heart fluttered when he called him that idiotic nickname.

"But why? What if they decide to kill us first?"

Jonas chuckled, the sound low and sultry, reverberating through Marcus' body, "Because they're my lackeys. They won't betray me. They don't know better."

"And what about him?" Marcus pointed over his shoulder, which only made Jonas chuckle harder.

"Orion? Please. He is so whipped by that princess he doesn't understand that we are playing him. We will be his lackeys for now. But when the time is right - we strike."

"I don't know about this..."

"Can't you trust me?" Jonas asked, eyes wide and pleading.

He shouldn't. The last thing he should be doing is trusting Jonas, the man with the wide smile and deadly killing streak.

"Okay. I trust you."

Jonas' answering smile was blinding.

–

The first few days were much of the same, Marcus found. Orion, the self proclaimed 'leader' of the group seemed to focus more on tracking down other competitors rather than completing their tasks. It worried Marcus, but Jonas reassured him again and again that they had plenty of time, and less people to worry about the better. 

He didn't mention Alessa, though Marcus was certain he was thinking of her too. He was horrified that Orion would bound back to their camp one day, bragging about killing the 'woman of the competition'.

It boiled his blood, the way the men spoke of her. Like she was a commodity, and they all wanted to be the one to kill her. He kept his composure whenever her name came up, but his patience was wearing thin. One time in particular Jonas had to yank him back to the ground to stop him from pouncing on Orion.

He despised the man, the pompous air that dripped from his veins and the sense of seniority he held despite being half Marcus' size and possessing half of his brain power. But he allowed Jonas to take the reins and pretend to respect the man. His time would come, Jonas had promised him that much. He didn't mind Jonas' three lackeys, they were docile and submissive, gathering food or water for Jonas whenever he wished for it and never complained.

They had two princesses in the camp with them, Orion insisting that his lackeys didn't need one and Jonas following in suit. 'One and a spare', Orion had smirked, keeping his one particularly close. His princess, Cora, was the light of their small camp, keeping them upbeat with stories of the Trials she had seen before and managing to turn the small bits of meat and berries they found into delicious meals.