The king's killer.

Time

I didn't see the king very often but when he came by, I avoided him. I lived with Xander for six years, helping him often when he came home covered in blood. I had started staying up until Xander came home to help him. Today was no exception.

Xander came home one night with his arm covered in blood from a cut. I carefully sewed the cut up quietly after I cleaned it off. It would take about two weeks before I'd take of the stitches and Xander knew it. I didn't question Xander on how he got these wounds anymore. I knew what he did, he killed.

It has been six years since I was taken away from my father. I'm sixteen now and Xander is now twenty-four. I often helped Xander after he would come home but other than that, it was different. Xander and I barely looked at each other, much less talk to each other. We were distant but it wasn't awkward at all. There were verbal cues like grunts or hums to tell each other what needed to be done. I had learned from a traveler in town during one of my outings that my father was dead. I hadn't realized before than that I lived that far away from until then and Xander had joined me in the trip to that town. I had received everything as his only heir. I sold the house after taking my mother's jewelery and other memorabilia. I had taken my father's clothes and my mother's clothes and made them into clothes I would wear. I had hand stitched the clothes. Xander didn't question it.

I looked up into Xander dark eyes with out meaning to.

"What are you remembering?" Xander asked.

"It doesn't matter." I put the medical supplies up. "You shouldn't use that arm for a while. The bandages will have to be changes every day."

Xander recognize that I wasn't in the mood for talking. I really never was.

"Alex, why are things so awkward between us?" Xander reasoned "We used to talk a bit more. You would talk more. What happened to push you away? Away from me? Is it the fact I'm a killer? Or the fact that I'm a man?"

"For someone employed by the King," I rolled my eyes, "You aren't the brightest. I don't mind that you're male or that you kill. I actually didn't realize you felt awkward."

I felt Xander's eyes on me. I couldn't look at him. In truth, I avoided him because I care for Xander. But emotions are tricky and needed to be avoided when the one person that competes for the man's attention is the King. If the choice was the King or I, the king would win on sheer fear alone.

"DAMN IT ALEX!" I flinched and Xander's loud voice and harsh tone. "Just talk to me. Tell me what's really going on! It's been six years and you avoid me like the plague at times and only talk to me when I get hurt! What's wrong? What can I do? Why won't you talk to me? Answer me!"

"I'm sorry, Xander." I made my way to the stairs. "I'll talk to you more often from now on but I'm going to bed. Good night."

"Why are you avoiding me, Alex?" I ascended the stairs quietly. "What did I do?"

I closed my door quietly but didn't lock it. I turned out my light and climbed under my blanket. I would talk to Xander tomorrow when I was more awake and less physically drained from the days garden work. I closed my eyes just as my door opened. I faked my sleep as Xander's familiar footsteps sounded through my room. I felt part of my bed dip.

"Alex..." Xander's voice was but a whisper. "We aren't finished but good night."

The next day, I left my room before sunrise to go to town. I had errands to run and felt that doing them alone was best. I took my time doing these errands and didn't return home until late into the morning. Xander sat in the living room with his legs crossed. He looked much like a man who was waiting for his servant. I took the fabric I had bought and returned downstairs to work on lunch. I was avoiding the conversation. Once lunch was ready, I made stew, I brought a bowl to Xander and sat down in my spot. Xander ate quietly with his locked onto me. His stare made this entire thing awkward, not like it wasn't already. Once Xander was finished, he finished after me as I still didn't eat as much as him, He took a breath.

"Alex, explain to me as to why you don't talk to me." He sounded much like a noble man.

"I suppose the excuse 'I have my own reasons' won't apply. Fine. I don't talk to you because it's much to awkward. Given I helped in the awkwardness."

"That's not the answer and you know that."

"What do you want me to say? Lie that it's because you kill? Killing doesn't affect me, it's who you kill for that does!" I huffed out. "He doesn't respect you as a person and could care less if you die. He would move on like nothing happened, convince himself that you mean nothing to anyone, and move on with out a guilty conscience! You could be so much more than a killer but he keeps you convinced that you couldn't! May my words be treason, he is the worst king this country has had and he has the emotional range of a teaspoon! He thinks without consequence! I fear every night that you go out on his orders that you won't come back! I avoid you because I care! As bad as that sounds, I don't talk to you because I care."

I left to go upstairs quickly after that, choosing solitude after my emotional outbreak. I couldn't face Xander for fear of crying. I hated that I cared but I did. I hid in my wardrobe as I often did when wanting to be left alone. Xander had other idea when the doors to wardrobe were pulled opened. I felt the man's arms around me as he picked me and set me on his lap. He rocked me back and forth, attempting to get me calm and talking again. I wouldn't, I refused to say anymore, but Xander refused to accept my silence as an answer.

"Alex, I'm good at what I do."

"I know, Xander." I buried my face in the man's chest. "That doesn't mean I don't fear you won't come home. One of these days, there will be someone who will kill you and I don't want that to happen."