The Iron Blade

L.A

Leilyn's apartment was a small one, the second of her two homes. She owned a townhouse in the city as well, but she only used that when it was safe to do so. When she was killing very important people (Minor Fae nobles didn't count, she was hardly ever gossip when she did that, Fae nobles often were killed, generally by other Fae nobles in petty attempts at power.) she used a small apartment in a run-down back alley, it was situated just above a derelict bakery. A place where a notorious Fae killer was unlikely to be found. 

She sighed as she unlocked the front door, dumping her shopping in the hall. The door came to a squealing close, a precaution so she could hear any intruders. Mind you they would probably find themselves with a dagger to the heart before they could make it to the handle anyway. In a sink or swim world, it was a more of a 'kill first ask questions later' attitude that kept you alive. Leilyn walked down the hall and into the bedroom, the plush carpet at odds with the exterior. Her apartment was not extravagant nor lavish but it was tastefully decorated and furnished, after all, she spent a lot of her time here.

 The bed practically called her name as she stepped into her bedroom, one of two in the apartment, but she could not sleep yet. Walking to her wardrobe she pulled open the double doors revealing row after row of clothes. On one wall pretty ball gowns hung on silk hangers, their skirts huge under tiny waistlines, another hung more dresses but these were different, skimpy sheer and scandalous, half a wall was just mismatched clothing, from scrappy homespun dresses to a servents attire, even a royal guard uniform. All were disguises, clothes she wore to blend in, to trick and deceive. However on the left hung capes, most black to match the tight one-pieces like the one she wore folded neatly underneath, weapons could be hidden all over them, broad swords strapped on to the back if need be, it was these clothes that she liked best.

Her weapons also were displayed next to them, most shoved into a disorganized heap in the corner, but some hung on the wall. First a nasty pair of scimitars, Dawnbreaker and Sunreaper they were called. Then a sword with an iron blade, iron was the only way to kill fae. The blade was almost as legendary as the dagger she carried, Promise was its name, as when faced  it promised death. Then there was a longsword with no name, an iron-tipped bow and arrow and an empty place were her dagger was usually homed.

 The blade was made by the Fae themselves, for the Immortal wars when Fae battled against Fae to claim the kingdom of Valia. Mortals were killed too, forced to fight against their will. The blade was crafted by King Elden's finest blacksmiths and wielded by him in the war. Elden had won that terrible war millennia ago, by deceiving his enemy Queen Evernite of the Fae into plunging her sword into her own heart. He had ruled with fear and trickery ever since. What a terrible shame that he had gifted his eldest son Prince Alston the dagger three years ago, only for him to have it stolen the very same day at the summer ball. 

When taking an unwilling mortal girl to his room up the hall he found himself with an iron-tipped blade buried in his chest. When the guards found his body the blade was gone, the initials L.A inked in golden blood opposite the injury. That had been the First prince Leilyn had killed. She still remembered that sick feeling of pleasure as she dipped her fingers into his blood, taking her time to write out her initials in neat cursive.

Leilyn stared at her iron blade as she moved into the bathroom, peeling her clothes off and leaving them in a bloody heap, her weapons she put to one side, they would need cleaning, though fae blood always seemed to stain. She frowned at the red blood coating the rather simple metal of the dagger she kept in her boot. She didn't usually kill mortals but she would if need be. People like Clinton Flynn were as bad as the Fae, people like Clinton deserved to die. 

She clambered into the bath, cold as you did not get hot water here, but refreshing all the same, she stared in distaste at the thick woollen cloak heaped over her clothes, worn so she could blend in when shopping, but could still wear her assassins clothes beneath, a precaution should she be caught unaware, the scent of a fae killer could be scented stronger by Fae for a day or two after their death, and even heavy amounts of perfume could struggle to keep it in. The cloak was a nuisance though, uncomfortably heavy but it helped mask the scent. Tomorrow she thought, tomorrow she would return to the luxury of her townhouse, tomorrow she would start anew, find a new target, who was the current crown prince at the moment? That felt like a good place to start. With a sigh, she rested her head on the lip of the tub. Someday she hoped, someday the world would be a better place, a place of peace where equality was valued, mortals were not shunned and Fae did not exist. And she planned to be around to see it.

The next morning when she awoke the house was unnaturally silent, the neighbours were not fighting, the birds were silent, she dared a peek from her window that looked over the street, oh shit. Three figures stalked down the alley, and from their contoured shapes were warriors. Honed warriors. 

She recognized the Fae male at the front in an instant, his face honed into a cruel smile, his movements as smooth as water. Prince Asher, fifth in line, well fourth after Esteban's death. His golden hair was tied up tight, blue eyes staring straight ahead, he looked like a younger, crueller version of the fae prince she had killed two days before. The two fae next to him were armed to the teeth. Swords strapped over their backs, daggers that they hadn't bothered to conceal and callouses on their hands showed they knew how to use them. power seemed to emanate from them. She didn't doubt why they were here, if her scent had attracted them there was no use hiding. Heading to her closet she knew she had seconds, minutes at best. She dressed quickly in a clean black one-piece, sliding it on over her small frame, not bothering with boots. Then she strapped dawn breaker and sun reaper to her back, palmed her dagger and melted into the shadows