Stealing a King's Heart (ON HOLD)

*i*

James opened his eyes to the whispered voices saying his name. The thief was dazed, trying to focus and say something. But his mouth was dry as a desert, his throat aching as well. The whispers stopped and the feeling of being stared at suddenly crashed over him. A headache started to form the more he became more aware of everything.

"Ah, you're awake. Good. Can you hear me?" A deep voice asked, kneeling down to be heard. He didn't want to have any sort of attack upon him, so he managed to nod. "Very good. Now, to business. If you want to keep yourself alive, you'll do as I say."
Great. A rich group of idiots believing they could get a quick pouch of gold.

The thief tried to speak again but only coughed, shifting as best he could in ropes. The man who spoke for everyone else seemed to find this amusing. Most likely because the greatest thief in all the lands was basically weak at this very moment. Humiliating, really.

"You're a thief, I know, but even a nimble thief can plunge a dagger into a soft heart." Bitterness entered the man's tone. "Ever since the late king's son became the new king, we've become...soft." A growl entered his tone, as if a reputation was truly that important. It truly wasn't, which was ironic from a thief with a high reputation, and one with well known skills.

But he didn't kill when ordered to. He would kill if it was required, but would avoid it when able. He wanted to shake his head, but James didn't know what the hell happened to him to get like this. He couldn't remember last night or even the entire day. Worry of the power that these men had forced a nod from him. The ropes were cut, and whatever was used to cut them pressed into his hands.

"You have a week to kill the 'dear' King Sebastian." Was the last thing the man said before the group began to leave the thief to recover. James stared at the dagger in his hands now. A ruby encrusted hilt felt heavy in his hands.

He could run. He could sell the dagger and escape. Shakily standing, he started to do so. Who cared what those men could do to him? He could easily fight their smug, filthy rich little cult. Even if they had some sort of extremely powerful drug that was making him stumble through the halls, as if drunk.

But then he bumped into someone, nearly falling over. But the person he bumped into was quick to catch him, a soft and deep voice asking if he was okay. James nodded, a breath sucking once he realized just who was almost holding him like a dance partner.

The king.
The king he was supposed to kill.