[ ♔. kill your darlings ]

[rogue,]

♔ ．Ｒｏｓａｌｅｅ Ｄａｇｅｎｈａｒｔxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx( ❝ the heir of ash & fire ❞ )xx( ❝ location; victor's estate ❞ )

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"You would be surprised just how much I am holding back." her tense shoulders rolled, followed by her head, working out the crick that had set itself like a thorn in her neck. Just as Rosie relaxed, she saw Petyr tense in the corner of her eye. In response, she flexed her fingers in understanding. Time was running out on Victor Pravda. But of course, it was a given that Rosalee wouldn't let him fall into the sweet embrace of darkness while Petyr still held unanswered questions. Victor wasn't going to weasel his way out of this quite yet. Victor's next words rung in her ears. Her home was a scar that never did heal as it should have, no matter how well she sewed it shut. The assassin loved the house; she was once fiercely proud of it. And Rosalee missed a beat. It was an instant regret; letting Victor see how his words affected her. Annoyance flickered onto her expression at this rookie mistake. Afflictions be damned! You could pinpoint the exact time the one trace of humanity died in her eyes; strangled to death because of his words. Her body, right down to posture, soon radiated hellfire. Resentment was next to carve itself across her frightening calm face; an expression to mark the start of a massacre; right before bodies began to drop. Petyr's reassurances did nothing to quell the seething tone. "You are crossing the line," her head dropped to look at him through those flame-infused orbs. His glare was nothing compared to hers. I was born from that same fire and ash. "Care for me to re-draw that line across your precious throat? Victor was going to feel the backlash from his taunts. Arrogance had made Victor it's home, quite clearly. "I would like to thank you in advance for the donation towards my home's restoration. You did well to write Léa Lécuyer into your will." a courtesy, if you will. The document would be altered by this evening. Rosalee now took the Lécuyer name in her stride, for Victor had originally graced her with it. How she wished to glance at her King of Nothing to gauge his reaction to such impulsiveness.

Victor was idiotic to even think she couldn't see past his elegant mask of confidence. She saw. Every twitch, every flinch. She clocked it. The tone he had implemented with the inflections had Rosie scowling, vying for sympathy, was he? Attempting to appeal to the side of her that longed not to be a monster? Unfortunately, that side didn't exist. What do you wish for? Me to revoke your words? For me to cry out and claim not to be the same monster that you are? I won't, because I know all-too well that I am that very same monster, and I do not care. There is but one clear difference, I do not sent out others to do my work like a scavenger. I kill for justice, but you just dance in pools of blood. Blood stains both our souls the same, albeit for very different reasons," Rosalee mused, loathing herself for partially agreeing with his statement. People often became the monsters they fought so hard to shun. To his haunted tone, she simply frowned. "No scathing remark? No condescending, witty comments? My, my! Are we lost for words, dear Victor? What ever is the matter, the frightening assassin happen to have your tongue?" their was a twinge in her heart, but not for Victor. "Why aren't you fighting back for him?" she queried, voice the softest it had been all night. Who didn't fight for those they loved? Hell, it was why Petyr and Rosalee were here, afterall!

A grin sparked at Petyr's harsh assessment of his uncle, well, it was more like a character assassination, and touched a hand to her necklace. A man does not sit in his castle whilst his knights carry out death. Silently, she nodded. That is what a coward does. Rosalee chuckled to herself when her Knight of Justice called him a rat. It suited his eyes. They weren't silver, didn't sparkle. Nor were they steel. They were just... grey. Lifeless. When Victor dare open his mouth to begin spitting out such heinous curses at her Petyr, she wasn't going to stand by. Rosalee drew in a breath through her nose, dropping her hand and trembling with what could only be described as Wrath itself. The power that lurked, wired into her nerves began to tailspin out of control; tipping the wild, volatile monster within over the edge. Rosalee snarled, actually snarled, the gruesome sound rising in her throat to hang low in the air; blanketing the room. The first warning. Darkness poured across her pretty eyes. And then, well... then, the demoness struck. Her fingers jabbed at Victor's neck, instantly finding the notch between his collarbones. Rosalee cut off his air by pressing downwards against his windpipe; to induce the effect of choking. Giving him a glare, she eventually allowed air to flow back into his lungs, fingers drumming across Victor's shoulder.

"Even if I did hold the power to kill you years ago, I would not have. I live by the Creed of my brothers and sisters, and will not kill without a contract. Christoph compiled his own contract, to which we fulfilled, and now, onto yours." Rosie spoke as if it were simply business, because she couldn't let this push her any further. To his proclamation of love, Rosalee began to laugh incessantly. "I would not be so quick to sing his praises if I were you, little Lord," she pushed her mouth to the side and let a muscle feather in her jaw. "Christoph once told me he believed you to be weak. I quote: 'He is a man whom misery loves. Weak men like Victor will always seek out others to execute their dirty work, dear Rosie. He has yet to fight for anything, ergo, he does not deserve the throne he lays claim to.'," her head shook side to side, and she pressed a hand to her temple. "I always did remember exactly what taught me. You were often many a-lesson," Rosalee saw Petyr's urge to stab him and run, simply because Victor had that same affect upon her, and probably many more he had met. It was a wonder no-one else had murdered him! Truly, it was. Victor's violent flinch was definitely worth it, (Petyr's, not so much), to taste the fear that was palpable in the air. He may have shouted, but he still dropped his arms. A small victory, but a victory it was; to know he was terribly frightened of the assassin. After scrutinizing his eyes for the best part of five minutes, Rosalee hissed.

Yes, Rosalee was forged from fire and blood, but Petyr! Petyr was forged from lightning. An electricity that prickled at your skin and hummed through your veins. Not only could he spark a wild, relentless flame, for he was the spark to Rosie's fire, but he could also completely shatter ice. Petyr held such power, did he not know this? How he could both coax a radiant fire into existence, just to suffocate it with a mere thought? Petyr held the power of Heaven's fiercest Archangels, the supercharged atoms contained within the constellations of the night sky, all beneath his fingertips. Lightning bolts would snake across his skin like the warm glow of a candle, pulsing at a steady rhythm to the beat of his heart. He was electric.

A curl of her obsidian-coloured hair was twisted around her finger as she mulled over his words. "Or quid pro quo, if you so wish." her brows furrowed, clearly irked. Child. Child. As though the Assassin and her Knight were barely worth his time. "Preferably justice," she alluded, blinking at Petyr for a moment. "This is the justice that the Law cannot provide." Rosie said firmly. She only grinned at the tempting bait he had reacted to. Did Victor not see how she offered it up, on a string, to him? But, he was not as calculating as an assassin, clearly, and had been blinded to her obvious strategy. Shame really, when Rosalee was going all out to bait him at every twist and turn. Christoph would have appreciated it. "Mhm," was all she sung in response.

"It was a spectacular fight! You should have been there! Oh, you would have enjoyed it, seeing me utterly obliterate him," That wasn't strictly the whole truth of the fight, Rosalee had struggled and Petyr would have known, as he was there to collect the broken pieces of his assassin in the aftermath. "Christoph was once a good man, but by the gods did he hate you! In the end though, I think you may have broken him, the good in him, I mean."

At least Petyr seemingly admired her manoeuvre. Perhaps she would teach him that in their training sessions. Buying time as she audibly cleared her throat, her eyes shifted to Victor's pearl-coloured suit. It didn't suit the darkness held together inside, her nose crinkling upwards in disgust. She only swore at him again with bared teeth. An animal, she was an animal, baring her teeth in such a way. People often forgot smiles for what they truly were, to them yes, appreciation and happiness, but Rosalee knew better. An animal baring it's teeth was a threat, a reminder that those jaws can, and will, open your soft throat. "They were! They were! They were far stronger than you ever were," ...and yet they still died. What else was there to say? He was right, Caroline and Alexander had fallen because they hadn't been strong enough. "In a fair and just fight, you would have been butchered," she seethed.

Distress flashed; her eyelids fluttering as she absorbed the information. She'd been impulsive and stupid, with the questions just spilling like ink. Why didn't they fight back? Why didn't they fight? Rosie just wanted to curl up and cry the heartache away. They held onto each other in death as they did life. That hit her worst of all. What she had been told of the two assassins by her brethren, painted them both as avenging angels, who had retired for her sake. Never, never, would they have shown such weakness, such desperation unless Victor had forced them to. By the gods, he must have hurt Caroline and Alexander beyond repair for them to cling to each other. She willed her voice into neutrality. "You slaughtered my parents... like... dogs," her voice shuddered from the lack of air. "Who, who died first?" Who did you hurt the worst? asking these questions only bought about her own downfall and she pictured her faceless parents, one cradling the other as they both lost their lives. Her hand lifted again to touch her necklace. Rosalee was a delicate butterfly, and Victor the vicious child, whom had just peeled the precious dust from her wings. He had torn away her ability to fly, stripped away everything she was to leave her vulnerable to attack. Might as well have just sucker punched her in the jaw, it would have evoked the same reaction. That wasn't honourable. They didn't deserve that. Rosalee felt sick to the stomach. They were in my way. Curse the gods and high heavens! Rosalee had said those exact words to Petyr when she'd fallen from the sky. She knew exactly what Victor was implying. You kill me, then you are no better than your parent's killer. How does that you feel, Dagenhart? Does it hurt you? The only tether of pride came from their joint tenacity. Even in retirement, they never did quite stop enacting justice. They continued! They continued to battle Victor, working their way through his game of smoke and mirrors to seize the truth. "We will finish what they started. We know what you are, we know what you do. We know how you kill just to steal businesses, and soon, so will the whole of London."

"Fail-deadly!" Rosalee roared, smoke smothering her words again. No tears though, she wouldn't let him see that. She had her pride still. "Weak! You were weak! You were weak to hire those thugs!" she was no longer shaking, she was steel as her emotions were forcefully dragged back behind her mask. "There is the problem with those who don't respect you. You know they resented you, did you not? They were so very eager to sell you out, Victor! Practically begged." her teeth clenched before cloaking herself in that shield devoid of emotion. "Who am I to stop him? It was by Petyr's own free-will that he is here. I will do what I please! I will paint with your blood if I want, so do not tempt me," Rosie felt Victor's anger battling in the dirt with hers, each trying to gain the edge. Rosalee let herself lull into the killing calm, her eyes glazing over with the sharp-toothed grin returning. Edge, she needed the edge again. "How did you like Léa, out of curiosity? Was she the one for your nephew? You seemed rather enthralled." His fingers digging into her shoulder had her expression morphing into that reserved for nightmares. That savage look entered her eyes again. If he wanted her on the same level as him, she'd comply. Only, she wasn't going to let him drag her down. Slowly, painfully slowly, she gripped his throat, nails like razorblades digging into his jaw as she lifted his head to face her. "Does the little Lord wish he had murdered the child when he had his chance? He could have held onto his precious empire," her lips pressed into a thin line, every bone in her body aching to snap his neck. One final dash of fear was what she wanted, a growl the only warning before she threw her weight at him, more specifically, at his neck to throw him into the ground. It was similar to the fashion she'd killed the guards with, only, she left Victor alive and breathing. "Finally, the truth. How difficult was that to admit that you were motivated by spite?" her nostril's flared and she raised her chin to scowl down at him, shooting Victor a rather dirty look. "Oh, I want to kill you, believe me," but Petyr's promise, his vow of a better world had her frozen solid, soaking in the hatred and fear alike.

"But you are not mine to kill," she forced the words through clenched teeth. It was as close to a spoken I trust you, as Petyr would get at this point. Rosie clung to the hope that he understood the meaning of her gesture, that she held such an unbreakable trust in her Knight to carry out her last mission. How she was willingly choosing to rely on her most trusted no matter what she'd be taught, and no matter how much that scared her. So, Rosalee relented her vicious attack, fighting to pull Victor back to his shaky feet. Her hand dug into the wound as a crude tourniquet, trickles of his blood dripping down her arm. It was basic, granted, but it should buy them more time. "Petyr, he is yours to question. I have my answers. I am done."

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[important]

❝ p e t y rxxxl é c u y e r ❞xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

( role: turncoat )xx( location: victor's estate )

]xxxxx”I never doubted you, Rosalee Dagenhart.” He smiled, wrly. Victor watched Rosalee closely, and Petyr noticed the emotion that flickered across her otherwise dead eyes, even if it was brief. Oh, no. Bad move, Victor. But it was quickly that the emotion died from her blue eyes, being replaced by violene and death. A service he is already on his knees. Down there, he can at least pray for salvation before he is to join the ranks of the ghosts who died before him. Victor rose his chin, meeting Rosalee’s eyes as he stared at her. He then flinched at her words, her expression, and hissed under his breath. ”Shame on me,” he whispered, his voice quiet. At her next quip, Victor bared his neck to her, laughing. ”Oh, Rosalee, you truly are the devil. You promise me death, yet only prolong my suffering!” But, once it came down to talk of money, his eyes flashed and he recoiled. ”You would not dare. They will find fraud, arrest you both, damn you both to the dungeons of hell! You cannot possibly think you can get away with this treachery!” When Petyr heard Rosalee grace the name Léa with his family name, Lécuyer, he blinked several times, taking a half step closer to the two. Curiosity burned in his eyes, but Rosie didn’t look back to him. Why, after the flinch she had given earlier, would she be so eager to take on this surname? Oh, but she was his queen, was she not? Petyr’s expression fell, but only slightly. Nothing noticeable. Oh, Dagenhart. You do not bow, remember? You couldn’t possibly want to know what it is like to live under the name Lécuyer. Besides, Dagenhart was a regal name! Lecuyer was the name gifted to knights, gifted to those who bore a sword and shield, not a crown and septor. Didn’t she know? You are a queen where I was never royal. Why would you look to drop down so low, just to match me? Are you mad?

xxxxxVictor seemed to pick up quickly on the idea that he could not win. Not here, not with this monster that had told him he would have no life. Not with the man in the corner, the knight he had trusted so easily. The knight he had raised! And this assassin! This assassin whom he had too many chances to kill! How dare she come here to kill him when he had wanted nothing more than to end her. The Dagenharts could not live. ”Just like your parents before you, you are doomed to die before your time, Rosalee Dagenhart. You may not be the very same monster, but you are a monster with the very same curse.” He laughed, softly, hanging his head and offering a shrug of one shoulder, his unwounded one. ”I do not fight back for anyone, especially not now, when I know I’ve already lost. I learn to surrender, I learn to give up when there is no going on. One day, perhaps you can say the same thing, Dagenhart. Perhaps you can get your darling knight to teach you, he seems quite endowed with the art of surrender and giving up.” A grin punctuated those words. ”Regardless. My brother never fought for my honour. Like father, like son, no?” Petyr tensed, his eyes narrowing slowly as he looked Victor over. Though the Lord’s words were mighty, the man was broken and dying. Weak. He wouldn’t last much longer than this, Petyr knew.

xxxxx”Oh,” the turncoat murmured, his eyes refusing to meet Victor’s. He instead looked to Rosalee, his expression unreadable. He then spoke, and though he was speaking to Victor, he didn’t look to him even then: ”Do not compare me to my father. If my father wished for me to grow like him, perhaps he would have stayed.” His tone was nuetral, dead, emotionless. Yet, the lashes of anger curled around his words. ”But, I am no reflection of you, either. I at least have some semblance of honour, Victor.” He finally looked to his uncle.

xxxxx”Honour is running from the guard, taking sides with an assassin? Honour is killing the man who raised you when you had no-one? If that’s honour, then you could go as far as to say that rats themselves have honour.” Victor spat. However, his acerbic tone died quickly when he heard Rosalee’s growl, and he shrank back from her. He flinched when her hand came flying towards him, but it came as a shock when her fingers dug into the space of his clavicle, pressing against the pressure point that was nested there. And suddenly, Victor couldn’t breathe. His face turned a sickly shade of red-purple as he struggled to move air into his system, his lungs protesting. It was like choking, like drowning. When she finally let off of him, he coughed and heaved forward, drawing in air to his body desperately, cursing.

xxxxx”We all like to believe ourselves as more valiant than we are, actually. I think you understand this better than any other person on this damned earth. [color=#808080]”Truth be told, if given the chance, you probably would have killed me, contract or no.” He smiled, rested his head slightly and sighed. ”Weak, oh yes. I am weak. I will admit that I am weak, because now I am weaker than ever. Was I always weak? Absolutely not. A man grows weak as dignity leaves him. I am afraid that dignity fled along with the blood that leaks from my wound.” He then made a strange expression, pulled back from Rosalee and glared. ”You lie, you lie, you lying little--” He attempted to lunge for the assassin, but Petyr intervened quick, grabbing Victor’s shoulder and snagging him backwards. Petyr grabbed his uncle’s hair, leaned close to his ear.

xxxxx”You watch your tongue, uncle, if you love it as much as you claim to,” he hissed, letting go of the lord’s hair and shaking his head slowly. ”You insult her again and the threats will come to life, my lord.” Petyr warned him, and used the word ‘lord’ mockingly. ”Rosalee is capable, but do not think me as not in that light. I will be more than willing to prove that theory wrong. Do not test my patience.” Victor only gave a warbled response, still glaring steadily at the assassin.

xxxxxRosie, the demon that lived just beneath her skin, it was alive. That demon knew how to work the strings, to make Victor lean in and back away, to twist the man’s emotion like he was nothing more than her very own creation. And it was amazing, mind blowing. A perfect weapon. Dangerous and beautiful, all in one horribly wonderful mix. When Rosalee met Petyr’s eyes, he paused and offered her a slight smile, bowing his head to her just slightly. Justice. Always justice, never for revenge. It wasn’t allowed to be for revenge in the end, because revenge was dangerous and powerful. ”The Law abandons places like this. The Law dares not show its face here.”

xxxxxVictor shook his head and looked away from Rosalee. ”Do not speak of that! Listen to me, I don’t want to hear of it! Watch me, watch me yell, watch me scream and give you all away!” Victor looked near on the verge of tears. Oh, what a pitiful sight! Petyr looked to Rosalee a little sideways, knowing that the fight didn’t quite so gloriously. But Victor didn’t need to know that, did he? Absolutely not. ”My brother did not hate me, listen to me, child, listen to me!”

xxxxx”Just as I am being oh-so-butchered right now?” He sighed, waved his hand and grinned. ”Please, don’t offend me. I cannot die so easily,” he whispered out the last part, looking away briefly.

xxxxx”Just like dogs,” he echoed, winking at her. ”Only, I believe dogs have more dignity than your parents did in the end. I believe it was your mother who died first. She told me specifically that she wanted to go first, because she couldn’t stand to watch your father die.” He sighed, shook his head. ”Love, it’s such a terrible thing. It does terrible things to people, to their minds. That is why I’m so surprised to see that you have found my nephew… What destiny has brought us!” He laughed. ”All of London will witness my holy regime. They will not believe you, a child and a betrayer. They will laugh at you, and point out the good I brought to the rich man’s life. What joy I brought to the world! They will never trust you again, they will send you into exile and shame, or worse, into the pits of the dungeons to live out the rest of your lives. If you’re lucky they might even kill you, but really, I wouldn’t rely on that. Not after you killed the powerful and wonderful Lord Victor Pravda.” Victor seemed too sure of himself, so confident that his people wouldn’t dare betray him. ”Same story, different day, is it not? We’ve been dancing this dance since you learned the harm that I have caused. You cannot begin to realise what foothold I have gained from the time you were born to where I rest now! I may be on my knees, but I will still die a more honourable death than you a life. At least I leave those I slaughter on their feet. At least I offer them a quick, painless death. At least, at least, at least. I do so much for this city. Watch me, as I die, the city of London will die. If you don’t believe me, I will be so willing to prove it. Hand me a blade, I’ll take my own life if I have to.” Grey eyes met blue and gold once more, but Victor’s orbs held a sick intent, like he was begging with her. ”Die by my enemies sword, or my own, is that right? Though, I have offered no shame to the world. This city loves me, you should know! How else could I have gained such influence over my guests, my people? Men will spend years to gain the foothold that I had earned in the matter of two seconds. One kill, two deaths. Don’t you just love irony, Rosie?” He used the nickname that he had heard Petyr use against the assassin.

xxxxx”Weak, weak, you chant that I am oh-so-weak, but where do you stand on that scale? If I am weak, than you are crippled. Nothing. You are worthless, you are nothing. If I were your parents, I would have been glad to go, to be stripped of the responsibility in taking care of the mess you made yourself out to be. You are no better than myself, Rosalee Dagenhart. Bear that in mind as you kill me, as you plead answers from me.” He paused, frowned, ”sellswords hold no loyalty but to the coin a man pays them. I know they did not like me. I know they held no loyalty to me. They wanted my gold, in which I gave them plenty. So, they worked for me.” At the sudden switch of subject, even Petyr was confused. He stood a little straighter, watched Rosalee closely. Victor only shrugged. ”Léa was far too low class for my taste. Under different circumstances, however, I’m sure her and Petyr could have made out fine. Shame that Rosalee had to get in the way of that for my dear nephew. I do hope he repents and realises his mistake soon. What a shame, losing such a wonderful knight to the fate of an assassin. Oh, Petyr, do you not know, she’ll only hurt you in the end, be it physical or else. Run while you can, little knight. This is not your game.”

xxxxx”Don’t bring me into this,” Petyr said quietly, staying out of Victor’s line of sight. But you are not mine to kill. Petyr watched as Rosalee pulled Victor back onto his feet. The lord tried to resist, but eventually he was standing, leaning heavily on Petyr. Yet, the turncoat did nothing to get him off of him. The lord made a noise when he felt the assassin’s fingers in the wound inflicted into his back, and he just barely managed not to whimper as a tear slid down his cheek, him cursing. Petyr looked to Rosalee for a long time, before finally walking to the front of Victor, still supporting his uncle at least somewhat. He was quiet for a long time, before finally meeting the lord’s eye.

xxxxxFinally: ”I just want to know why my father left us. Why you didn’t tell us who you were. Why you even helped in the first place.”

xxxxx”Simple. Your father hated all of you, oh, you especially, Petyr. He quite liked your brother, but who am I to intervene? I wanted to help your lovely, dear, old mother. I couldn’t let her die.” This response from Victor evoked anger from the turncoat, who’s expression shot straight to fury, to hatred. It took less than five seconds, his hand was curled into a fist, and he clocked the lord right in the jaw, causing the man’s head to snap up and for him to stumble, grabbing Petyr all the harder.

xxxxx”The truth, this time, Pravda.”

xxxxx”He truly did hate your mother.” Victor was dragging this out, which only made Petyr more and more upset. ”But he did seem a bit reluctant to let you two boys go. I don’t blame him. You were a fine young man. He left because of your mother, and because of opportunity. And, well. I lived here, didn’t I? Maybe he left for me.” Victor winked, even with all of the degrading that had taken place, Victor still had audacity. Oh, how soon that will be over. Petyr exhaled, slowly, his grip on the dagger tightening.

xxxxx”Merci, donc, oncle. Peuvent les dieux la miséricorde de votre âme. Repose en paix, mais n'oubliez pas vos péchés.” And with those words, Petyr dug the dagger into his uncle’s stomach, twisting the blade and looking into his uncle’s eyes, where the light slowly died as the man’s life left his body.

[rogue,]

♔ ．Ｒｏｓａｌｅｅ Ｄａｇｅｎｈａｒｔxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx( ❝ the heir of ash & fire ❞ )xx( ❝ location; victor's estate ❞ )

────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Rosalee visibly swallowed. To Petyr, her eyes spoke louder than her words ever would, and she wouldn't have been surprised if he noticed each and every dash of emotion. Shame on you, indeed, little Lord. At the sheer audacity of baring his throat to her, Rosie was half-tempted to tear out his trachea with her teeth, sparing him the blade. And it wasn't the first time the awful thought had crossed her mind to justify her claim to fame as an infernal, hellish beast. I am not willingly hurting you. I am not the cause of this suffering! The sudden burst of life in his eyes had her grin back. Men like you who chase after profits, are often ignorant to the actual game. "Oh I will," slipping her hand in his pocket, Rosie swiftly stole his keys. It was torturous, her dragging out his response. "And I wish your people the best of luck, in finding a woman named Rosalee Dagenhart; for she is a mere shadow, and does not exist." Of course, Petyr would know this. London knew her as a 'Miss Jones'. Thwarting Victor right from the very start, Petyr's clever little assassin. Still, she refused to meet Petyr's eyes that were burning with such intensity. I am not the queen you paint me to be. I am heir to nothing but ash and dust. She stiffened in reaction to his half-step, no longer wishing to know his ideas. Léa Lécuyer, Léa Dagenhart, Rosalee Dagenhart, Rosalee Lécuyer, Petyr Lécuyer, Petyr Dagenhart. Dagenhart, Lécuyer. Lécuyer-Dagenhart. Dagenhart-Lécuyer. A knife was needed to sever the thoughts.

"I know my story ends at the edge of a blade," she could see that same hate, the spite that fuelled Victor Pravda. If one were to peel back his skin, it would be a blistering mess of envy and resentment. Rosalee knew he wanted her dead. "Christoph was right, you deserve nothing because you fight for nothing. You would not know the struggles and toils of actual work unless they slit your throat." At least he was admitting his failure. Accepting his death. Shame, Rosalee wanted to see him go down fighting, it would have made it all the more sweet.

Her eyes met with Petyr's tawny ones, and she offered him what silent strength she could. You are far better than any that share your name. The tone itself implied neutrality on Petyr's part, yet the assassin felt the anger that had latched onto his words. You are a Lécuyer. Make it a name to be proud of, my Petyr. Forget those inky stains of both Christoph and Victor, let them tarnish the name, but not destroy it. Let it mark your start as heir to the Lécuyer name. Let it mark the start of your rise. Honour and justice, my Petyr. When they sing ballads of the name Lécuyer, let them remember only you, the one who fought for honour and justice.

The strain on Victor's features did nothing to improve the creases in his forehead. Rosalee frowned at the shade colouring his face, a wave of purples and reds mottled together in patches. She could hear his lungs screaming for oxygen, anything, anything to breath! It was an effort not to throttle the life out of him.

Her head shook firmly. "I would do no such thing." she spoke with her voice low, holding Victor's steady gaze as he drew back. Well, Victor truly could curse his breath away! "Where did darling Rosalee go?" In an instant, her instincts kicked in and she had taken to the defensive, hands balled into fists, muscles tensed. An animal cornered; volatile and vicious. Oh, was she prepared to knock him off of that pedestal of immunity when he made to lunge for her. It would have been a catastrophic collision between the two opposing forces, and Rosalee couldn't wait. Fight was tempered into her being, right beside her fire. It was a sudden, harsh shove back into reality as Petyr tugged at Victor's shoulders and yanked at his hair. She watched on as his head snapped back and Petyr spat his threats. If Petyr hadn't intervened when he did, she may not have been accountable for her actions. (All the while, Rosalee scratched at the carpet idly with her nails just to drain the adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream.) She grinned back at Victor. "Care to try again?" Blood pounded in her ears from the anticipation of a fight, but of course, she was forced to restrain what she could of her temper. Her head rose rather proudly in light of Petyr's diligence, a her grimace soon settling into a smirk. Part of her wanted Victor to press against that line just a little further so she could witness her Knight's protective anger. His smiles, ones that placed a beautiful song in her heart. Justice. My promise. Her head dipped.

Rosalee opened her mouth to hiss back, to demolish Victor's world and high opinion of his brother.
"If your hatred is true, then why not kill him?"
"No contract; no kill. You understand the rules, do you not?" the seasoned assassin would tap at his temple, while the young protégé would grind her teeth in annoyance.
"Humour me and say there was a contract, would you?"
"You wish not to hear my answer."
"If a contract was iss-"
"Do not force my hand." He would interrupt.
Still, she would insist. "If a contract was issued, would you?"
A long, drawn out silence, where the mentor would simply evaluate her.
"In my eyes, dear Rosie, the rat is already dead."
She took a breath, and yet no sound. You are not spiteful like him. Don't. And so, she bit down harshly on her tongue, hardly for Victor's sake though. She would have welcomed his tears. Perhaps it had been for her and Petyr's own piece of mind, then. That's what she told herself, anyway. "I can assure you, he did." was all she growled.

What on earth happened to the carefully cultivated façade? It was earning fissures, where emotions, in the guise of light, slithered through the fractures. It was evident in her eyes, the heartbreak. Victor was unravelling the assassin's web, the veils she had protected herself with, and he sure as hell must have known. That sly wink said it all. I believe dogs have more dignity than your parents did in the end. A flinch. The edge of her lip curled, eyes narrowing. "And you preach honour? You disgusting rat, you sicken me!" The topic of her family was never the safest road to travel down on a good day, and here Victor stood, tearing at the foundations like they were just withered flowers. "No, no... she would never, a Dagenhart..." she felt a sudden choke that closed her throat and constricted her words. Unbeknownst to the assassin, who had fallen into autopilot in an effort to quell the weakness she had shown, briefly glanced towards Petyr before training her eyes onto Victor's throat. "A Dagenhart does not bow, we do not beg... we fight," by now Rosie was more or less whispering those words of comfort to herself more than anything. It took a moment of harsh inhalations and slow exhalations for her to meet those grey orbs again. Not silver, they didn't shine; and not charcoal because they didn't burn; but the colour of ash. The ash to which she was the heir. I own you. Rosalee let a storm thrive in the starlight-flecked ocean of her eyes before countering his next remark. "To love is to destroy, and to be loved, is to allow the destruction, is it not? That it is a damnable weakness? That is where you and Christoph alike are wrong," Rosie set her jaw, unable to stop her eyes from flicking towards Petyr for a heartbeat. "It does not make you weak, it instead leaves you vulnerable. The act of simply placing your heart in another's hands and trusting them not to crush it, that, that is strength." an icy chill ran down her spine soaked with her own fears and afflictions; knowing in her heart that she needed to abandon them. Only, Rosie couldn't quite let go. She ignored his pleas of London and how his mere presence bettered the city. Lies, and not very good ones at that. All the evidence, was held in her palm with those set of keys. Information that no-one could refute. She jumped to attention when Victor spoke of her nickname, to the drawl he'd placed on the syllables. Rosie? One kill, two deaths. Don’t you just love irony, Rosie? The sentence ricocheted throughout her skull, pure malice carved in her eyes. "You have earnt no right to call me that! And it would have been three, if you weren't such a failure."

...stripped of the responsibility? Oh, but it was the truth, wasn't it? They never wanted this, it should never have happened. It was discord and doubt Victor was sewing, awful weeds that were terribly difficult to kill. The roots would always stay. Always. "I am far better than you, I am." her fists shook at her sides. "I loved them, and they loved me," Rosie's lips trembled with the words. She ignored him, turning her attention to the floor and the pooling blood. Whispering a mantra under her breath gave her some solace. "Perhaps if I offered them but a coin more, they would have turned on you then and there." she pretended to contemplate, while in actuality, Rosie was calming herself down. Ah, the mists of confusion! Rosalee quirked a brow. "Perhaps for you, yet her and Petyr held every set of eyes in the room, no? Surely you saw? We outdone ourselves compared to your guests! We held more attention than you ever did!" her final bite to that hand that fed her. And, it had her grinning. "They were far more impressed with us, than you little Lord!"

Rosalee remained subdued and quiet as Petyr began his own onslaught. She caught the tear that carved a path down Victor's cheek, the sight sending her heart soaring. That was what she wanted. Him to cry, just like she had as a child. At the sight of actual tears, her eyes flicked to Petyr's once again, only to find his lingering. Nothing but a nod was offered. Listening closely to Petyr, she offered him strength whenever he turned to her for it. The skin on the insides of her cheeks were in ribbons from the effort to constrain any vicious insults as she watched Petyr spiral downwards. No, no, no! Don't you dare force Petyr to cry, don't you dare. Rage smothered her own sadness, and she picked up on Petyr's curled fist just before it hit the intended target. The sheer power had Victor's neck almost snapping like a twig, Rosalee finely dodging a hit to the nose from the momentum. Struggling to hold him after the stumble had her snaking an arm under his shoulder, the man himself clinging onto Petyr, as if he could drain his life to prolong his expiration. The assassin didn't waver at the glint of the blade, holding her breath as Petyr whispered in his French, not missing a beat as he plunged the dagger into his uncle's stomach. Rosalee's blood ran cold, finding herself unable to move as the death rattle shook Victor's body. It tore the life from him, and with it, the final anchor drowning her.

Simple, it was so simple. No rush of adrenaline. No carnage singing in her veins. That was reserved for her Petyr. An outsider, forced to watch on while Petyr bathed in the dying of the light. Just like that, he had killed the demon. Her most trusted, her Knight of Justice, had murdered the King of Crows. The man who'd plagued them both for far too long.

Rosie waited for her heart to beat again, her body starting to tremble from the weight of all the knowledge. Unable to bear holding Victor any longer, she pushed his dead body away from her, shrinking back as his lifeless form crumpled to the floor. The blood coating her hands felt like a dead weight, threatening to drag her down. It was a bloody waterfall cascading down her arms, arms that now hung, limp at her sides. A breath of anguish escaped her, keys falling free of her clutches. Staring, she just stood there, staring with her mouth hung open. It took a long, long while for her senses to grace her again, for her to even face Petyr. At first, she lifted her arms to pull him into a fierce hug, only to jerk away once she re-registered the blood on her arms. Instead she sought out his comforting, tawny eyes and whispered; her voice soft and defiant:

"I claim you, Petyr Lécuyer, as my King of Nothing."

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[important]

❝ p e t y rxxxl é c u y e r ❞xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

( role: turncoat )xx( location: victor's estate )

xxxxxWatching the life drain from a man's eyes, it was something else entirely. Especially if that man had caused so much damage, ruining everything he touched. Destroying, causing a chaos that was unique and equally terrifying. A chaos that man tried to escape, but could never really run from it. Knowing that no harm would come from that man who lay dead, that was empowering. His eyes no longer shone with the light of the living. But, those eyes never shone to begin with. They were always dead. They never saw light the way that Rosie’s eyes did, they never bore the stars in an infinite ocean. No, they were always dull, lifeless. The colour of lead. How could anyone look into those eyes and see opportunity, see hope? How had Petyr once even trusted these eyes to tell him the answers to everything he had ever wanted to know? May the gods have mercy! May they shine their light upon the assassin and turncoat alike and see that they have done good! Fear really took its toll on men like Victor, on men like Christoph. Because in the end, all that a man was really ever guaranteed was death, was it not? Where did that put Rosalee and Petyr on the scale of things? What pedestal did they stand upon? Truly, were they any better than Victor, than Christoph? They all killed the same, spilt blood and swung blades.

xxxxxThe breath stole from Petyr’s lungs, and his mouth opened, slightly as he pushed Victor’s body off of him, taking several steps back, dropping the blade that he had held. The blade that had delivered the final blow, the blade that had stripped life right from the man. What had he done? ”Dieux de me montre la miséricorde, j'ai péché, j'ai tué.” And, oh, how Petyr looked on the verge of tears! ”Ne me jugez pas pour cela.” How could it be? The man who had dealt justice his entire life, looked to the more gentle side of it all, had just dug a dagger into the torso of a man whom had raised him. If Victor was a monster, what did that make Petyr?

xxxxx”Oh, Rosie,” he whispered, his eyes falling shut as he refused to look at the heap of the body that had been pushed aside by the both of them. They had killed a man of high influence, but had they truly gotten away with it? The gods had smiled at me, now how do they look to me? With fear? Pity? Anger? ”Oh, Rosie, Rosie, what do we become now?” His hands were covered in the blood of his uncle, and, well, what can a man do when it comes down to that? Desperately, he wanted nothing more than to embrace Rosalee, pull her close to him. But, he couldn’t. She was also stained with the lord’s blood, but her reaction to the kill had been far different from Petyr’s. Watching life drain from a man’s eyes, the gate to his very soul, it was draining. Horrible. Terrifying. Petyr couldn’t find enough words to describe it.

xxxxxIt was over. All of this, it was a means to an end, an end that they had made and met. Here they were, standing above the body of the man who had caused so much harm, so much terror. But what was to come? Who would fall next? His instincts, they were screaming in both ears, yelling useless instruction. What if they were found, then what..?

xxxxxHe met Rosalee’s eyes, looking to her with intent. At her whispered words, he could have crumbled. That defiance that had been plastered there to hide his pain, it vanished. His facade fell, crumbled, it was absolutely obliterated by those words that he had forever longed to hear from her. King of Nothing, to stand next to the Queen of Nothing, in her castle of No-one. He bowed to her, closing his eyes.

xxxxx”My honour, merci.” Oh, but what now? He took her hand into his, no matter the blood, no matter any of this, and looked into her eyes once more. Petyr’s expression was completely vulnerable, completely readable if Rosalee cared to do just that. It was there, for her. ”Rosie, take us away from here. Leave the body, let them find him, and let them know what kind of man Victor was.” Petyr seemed determined, that fear that had once lit up his eyes was replaced by something else, something new, something dangerous and more powerful than before.

xxxxxThis was what bloodlust was. This was what fear, what death, did to a man. It made him whole, made him better than he was before. Perhaps this is why Rosalee did was she did, and so well. This is what she sought after, that spike of adrenaline, that silent warning in the back of his mind that told him no, no, no, no, no, the beat of his heart in time with Victor’s words back when he breathed still. He understood now.

xxxxxPetyr’s eyes cut to the side, watching the door carefully for a long moment before glancing to the window, smiling briefly and squeezing Rosalee’s hand, kissing her forehead. ”There should be a powder room nearby, I’m sure we can move there undetected. Running water, we can rinse the blood there, and leave before they truly start to miss Victor.”

[rogue,]

♔ ．Ｒｏｓａｌｅｅ Ｄａｇｅｎｈａｒｔxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx( ❝ the heir of ash & fire ❞ )xx( ❝ location; victor's estate ❞ )

────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

It was usually a simply task, to detach the heart from the assassin. Rosalee, fated to hover on the sidelines, completely disassociated, while the assassin made the kill. But she hadn't stolen Victor's life. Petyr had. And he willing chose to suffer that burden for her. Oh, what had he done? He didn't deserve blood on his hands. There was not going back to the Guard for him now, he must have known? And still, still! Still, he wandered by Rosie's side, unafraid, into the very depths of hell. To those dank, dreadful places reserved for the most heinous offences, all for her, to kill the very monster whom had haunted every waking hour and encroached upon every nightmare. Rosalee had never felt more pride swell in her heart.

In comparison, Petyr didn't seem to be coping awfully well. What with the onset of tears in his eyes. Who wouldn't react the same? Petyr wasn't cold and distant, he poured his wonderful heart into his actions, unaware of the recoil. What did Christoph call it? Collateral damage? Yes: Collateral damage was inflicted upon each Initiate all the same. It called a question to flare, one that probably may not go down as intended. She was appreciative that it was his uncle, a blood relative, though found herself asking: "You have killed before, no?" Rosalee didn't hear Petyr's blade drop.

She had turned away, calmed herself, and then knelt down next to the body. Her eyes surveyed Victor's face, one contorted not in rage, but acceptance. Nothing stirred. Staring at his greying features didn't have her snarling. His skin, cold to the touch, didn't cause a sudden pang in her back. The blood-soaked carpet didn't elicit sympathy or hatred. Victor was just another body left in their wake, and by far would he be the last. A means to what end? The end of her vendetta laid out before her eyes, though, Rosalee didn't draw revenge from it, but instead, her own form of solace. Acceptance, she let acceptance comfort her, hoping it did the same for Petyr. "What do we become? I do not understand," For, they had both carefully siphoned their answers from the one who held them like bullets between his teeth. Granted, the answer's weren't soothing and clean; they were stained and torn - but they were answers nonetheless. A minimal sigh echoed from the assassin, who was now laying him to rest in a more honourable position. She didn't like this, but the struggle was finished and she'd damn well do good by the gods. Carefully, Rosie rolled Victor onto his back before the rigor mortis set in, laying one arm flat by his side. Next, she pulled a flower (a rose, no less) from her braid and pressed it into his palm; closing his blue fingers around the blossom. A whisper of words sounded from the fragile assassin while she folded his final arm across his chest; laying the curled fist just over his heart - like she did with Christoph. "We are the same seekers of justice that entered here." Prints of her bloodied hands stained Victor's skin and clothes.

Gazing over the fallen body one last time, she clicked her tongue in farewell, gracefully raising herself back into a standing position, with nothing more than a simple rustle of skirts as an accompanying sound. Pretty eyes feel on the sheets Victor had whisked from the cupboard before he met his fate. She gave a small smile.

Her voice broke at the look on Petyr's face. "I forgive you, I forgive you." she murmured, watching with star-infused eyes as the defiance shattered like a mirror, the shards falling to reveal the pain he hidden away. Something fluttered in her heart, struggling to stifle a cry. She could feel his pain, the ache of his heart. He deserved the world, sky, stars and Rosalee was going to fight to give him those very things. The honourable bow gave her back her wings.

At first, she flinched at his touch, at the slick feel of blood. Underneath that, though, it was still Petyr, still the same Knight she had put her faith in. She dropped her head and clung onto his hand as if he was life itself. "I will carry you far, far away from here." setting her jaw, she glanced upwards to meet his eyes again. And the entire world collapsed. Time around them slowed, each movement slow and precise as she swam in those tawny-bronze eyes. Pools of vintage starlight reserved just for her. Petyr was oh-so vulnerable, and oh-so free. Rosie saw the gift for what it was, and read everything. Plucking a sheet from the top of the stack that was situated on the bed, the assassin started to wipe the the blood from Petyr's hands. It worked free the slick blood, but did nothing for that which stained his skin. They'd still need that powder room.

Stealing another glance at him, Rosie noticed that spark, the reddened haze that clouded his orbs. The fire that trailed his footsteps. Do not let it consume you, she warned by pressing her lips into a thin line. Keep it on a short leash.

Rosalee hesitated, not moving but throwing the cloth over Victor's lower body just to hide the wound on his stomach. She left his face free to the elements. A shudder gripped her shoulders, and Rosalee wrapped her now-dry, albeit marred, arms around Petyr's neck to hold him close to her. "Okay," she whispered, quieting down once he kissed her forehead. "We should move now. They shan't notice us, so do not fret." her foot searched the ground behind her, flicking he set of keys into the air to send them soaring up and over their heads. There was a little clink as she caught them in her hands.

────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

[important]

❝ p e t y rxxxl é c u y e r ❞xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

( role: turncoat )xx( location: victor's estate )

xxxxxPetyr’s hands, they were shaking and he was trying his hardest to clench them together, desperately trying to ignore it. At her question, he looked away and gave a half shrug. Of course he had killed before, but that was inadvertently. That was different, he’d given men the death penalty and ordered them to the block. The only person he’d actually dropped was the guard who had countered them when he and Rosalee had tried to escape the Keep shortly after her arrest. But that wasn’t the same! He didn’t even know that man, and that had been pure instinct when he had stabbed the guard, it was to protect he and Rosalee. ”Of course,” he murmured. ”Not like this, not, not in cold blood, I’ve only ever… Ordered death, not delivered it, Rosie.” He shook his head and looked to Rosalee for a long time.

xxxxxHowever, Rosalee wasn’t looking to him in turn. She was turned to face Victor’s body. ”What do we become? How do the gods judge us now, now that we have…” Petyr shrugged the idea away, seemingly. ”Do they frown upon us?” He frowned as he watched her arrange Victor’s body, rolling him back onto his back. That movement seemed to elicit the last of what blood was in the man’s body to leave from both of his wounds, staining the carpet further. When Rosalee plucked a flower from her hair and placed it into Victor’s hands, Petyr bowed his head, watching her in silence. He sent out a silent prayer to the gods, to whoever would listen.

xxxxx”Seekers of justice,” he repeated back to her, nodding slowly. Justice, that was what this was, wasn’t it? Justice, did it always have to lead to death in the end? They were those who would deal that justice that the law itself couldn’t carry out alone, this is what they were condemned to do. Their sins have led them to their punishment, and this was it. They were Death, carrying out its orders. ”Oh, how did it come to this?” He whispered, lowering his head and taking a few steps back. But, he had done it. He had earnt Rosalee’s trust, her heart, his place in her kingdom. And that, ultimately, was what he was after to begin with in the first place, wasn’t it? This was his doing, his going after. He had wanted this! Petyr had brought this upon himself! This wasn’t Rosalee’s fault, never had it been. It was all because of Petyr’s courage, his ambition to go after the assassin’s heart, that is what led him here, what gave him the blade that had killed Victor. When Rosalee moved away from Victor, he took a step closer to the body. He then knelt beside of the body, sighing slowly. His breathing, it was off pace and strange. The turncoat’s inhales were too short, whereas the exhales far too long. He looked over his uncle’s body, then blinked a few times when something caught his eye. His dagger that he had earnt from his mother, dropped shortly after the lord’s quite unfortunate death. He picked it up, returning the blade back to its sheathe, where he had it placed before. Petyr then whispered yet another prayer, pressing his fist to his lips and resting his hand on Victor’s chest. He may have manipulated his way straight to the grave, but he was still a man with life. Rest well in death.

xxxxxHe stood, walking over to where Rosalee was. At her proclamation of forgiveness, he could have cried. Instead, the soon-to-be assassin nodded, holding her hands tightly. He frowned at her the flinch she had given at his initial touch. But, despite this blood, he was still whole, still human, still the knight who had realised exactly where his loyalties lied, despite his confusion on the idea of honour.

xxxxx”We have lied our way into the lair of the demon, into the centre of hell, but we cannot look to stay, my assassin, my queen.” He looked to her eyes, and could feel the world seem to slow as he focused on the gold that pushed through the sea of blue, swirling like stars set in the dawn sky. When they finally broke away with Rosalee going to retrieve the sheet from the bed, he lowered his head, looking away. When she came back to wipe his hands, he let her do so. But the sheets could do nothing for the stains. Those would take water, and far more scrubbing. They would have to wait. He also helped her wipe the still-wet blood from her hands and arms.

xxxxxHow could he escape? How could he run away from this? The red, it flooded his vision, made him wish for nothing more than to take the dagger that he had recently returned to its sheath back out and kill again. But, oh, he couldn’t, he couldn’t. Rosalee’s expression, her eyes, they were grounding. It was what brought him back to Earth, back to the room of the estate.

xxxxxLecuyer watched her as she threw the sheet over the body. A small mercy for a man like he. He wrapped his arms around the assassin’s bare shoulders, pulling her close to him and sighing. It was over, so far. He nodded at her next words, beginning towards the door. Keep moving, keep moving. That was a good idea, yeah. Okay. He noticed her flick the keys up to her hands, smiling a little at that thought. Maybe, just maybe, she would let them wander through the lord’s study, just to see what he left behind. Petyr opened the door for her, ushering her through before leaving himself, shutting it closed behind him.

[rogue,]

♔ ．ＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx( ❝ the heir of ash & fire ❞ )xx( ❝ location; victor's estate ❞ )

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It was from a sensory aspect that Rosalee could feel the subtle trembling of her King of Nothing's hands. The tension in the room had long since fled, stolen away with the passing of Lord Victor Pravda. "And you are certain you wish to follow me into this life?" she questioned mainly for her own peace of mind. Rosie's hand languidly lifted to rest on her neck, shifting her feet. At his quick-fire call, she did not seem pleased. "This is not in cold-blood," she cut in, "for it to have been in cold-blood, he needed to be an innocent. We both know he was not," there was a low, burning resonation to her voice. "The one who ordered, now provides."

What was he searching for? Reassurance? Sympathy? She allowed a long time to clear her throat. There was still some lingering hatred coating her tongue, but it was not meant for Petyr, because she was fixated on the body decorating the floor. "The gods? The gods..." at first, she stalled, her brows furrowing. Rosie was never one to consider the forces outside of her control. "They turn their backs upon our actions, but they do not leave us. It is a righteous murder, no? We are the justice the Law is blind to. The gods understand; they understand. They respect our position in the world." she gave a simple nod. "You know Death and War are neither affiliated with heaven or hell, therefore neither are we. We are carrying out a job and walk the fine line that rests between good and evil, even if that line is often not clear." it was a certainty that Petyr was conflicted over his actions. All for what? The defiance to fight for an assassin's heart? Was the prize of her heart and kingdom worth it? Had he lost more than he had gained? They were questions Rosalee wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to. When he knelt beside Victor, she dropped her gaze, relying solely on her hearing to listen to his broken breathing. Distress, is he distressed? "I confess... please, let me confess: that even in death, I still hate him," she admitted. "Everything he said... he knew how to cause a lasting sting." she turned herself away as he retrieved his precious, heirloom dagger. The pretty one she adored, now stained with rat's blood. Rosie quickly shut herself up as Petyr fell into his own world of prayers. She would not interrupt.

Her eyes fluttered shut once he nodded, holding in a breath for a while; refusing to let it go like she did with his hands. His strong grip soothed her concealed nerves. They soon dissipated like a fog, replaced with a sense of belonging. She hadn't felt that in a long while, but here, with her Knight, Turncoat and King, Rosalee finally felt at home. "When I picture myself happy, it is with you." Red dusted her cheeks, and she laughed at her own apprehension. Feelings were not her forte.

She focused on cleaning up what she could of the blood, thankful for Petyr helping her out. Meeting his eyes again would have just caused her to fall, her senses to abandon her and for fate to intervene. "And we were damn well good at it." she affirmed, grinning suddenly, her eyes still downcast. She watched as he diligently wiped at the blood. "Lesson two: The trick to bloodstains, is cold water." It was said in a light-hearted manner, just to breathe some life into the otherwise cold, deadened atmosphere.

At the flash hazing his vision, Rosalee's eyes snapped to attention. She willed him to settle, to chain the beast and lock it away in the shadows of his mind, condemn it to the darkness that the sun dare not touch. There was a deadly calm in her eyes, burning with intensity, with a strength she was trying to pass across the divide to Petyr. Look to me and stay your blade. Look to me as your tether. I am here for you, shall you ever need me.

Each and every bone in her body screamed at her to tear into Victor's body and offer up his heart to those he'd wronged. Oh, mother, father, I hope I did right by you. Are you smiling at me? Or are you distraught by what I've become? She wanted to parade around with his head, to throw it to the hungry wolves of the Assassin Council. But she couldn't. She couldn't be so horrific, even if the man at her feet had slaughter her family and wanted to see the assassin herself fall and bleed. Rosalee held onto Petyr, burying her face in his shoulder and closing her eyes. "I miss them, I miss them, but I cannot even remember them," she whispered, barely audible, just to let her King in to her mind and world. She let her hands ball into fists as pictures, awful, mindless pictures, flashed across her eyelids. Petyr left sooner than she would have liked.

She let the keys jingle, catching his faint smile. Her face remained plain, expression simple as she let him lead her away from the room of terror and death. The music of the party below reached her ears quickly, but it didn't reach her heart. "I see your intentions." a breath left through her nose. "I wish to see his study, too. I was not lying when I stated that I would write myself into his will," the familiar click of the hinges sounded as Petyr closed the door behind them, and Rosalee didn't lock it. Petyr had said to let them find him eventually. "That is, if you will allow me. Do you wish to know the secret to forgery of the hand-written script?"

[important]

❝ p e t y rxxxl é c u y e r ❞xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

( role: turncoat )xx( location: victor's estate )

xxxxx”Oh, Rosie…” Petyr breathed out, holding her close to him when she admitted to missing her parents. He inhaled slowly, pressing a kiss to the side of her head and sighing. ”One day, you will find what it takes to remember. Do not let what you already know slip from your memory, mon chéri. Mistakes are what make us who we are, but your parents made no mistake in keeping you, despite whatever the lord says. Do you understand this?”

xxxxxPetyr didn’t waste any time, didn’t hesitate at all before answering her question: ”No doubt in my mind. I will follow you into the pits of hell, so long as you are in front of me, Rosalee Dagenhart.” His eyes, they were closed. ”No, listen. This is murder, still, innocent or not so. Do you understand? Murder, death, it is still so, no matter where the man or woman you slay stands, below or above your own self. Killing induces death, which equates to murder.” Petyr shrugged, rubbing the inside of his wrists in nervous habit. He just wanted to leave, and now. He was absolutely terrified of discovery, and was jumping and flinching at even the slightest of sounds. Hearing the party still continue below them, that only made his nerves even more frayed, made him more anxious and frightened. Oh, who had he become after this? What happened to the man who would rush into a room with naught, using his words as weapons rather than an actual blade with an edge. ”Murder is still a crime. But, I have agreed to this death simply because the act doesn’t make me a murderer. It makes me an executioner. A man to deliver whatever Death wishes for me to. Victor was a man of ill-intent. His time was overdue. This is why I agree to your execution.” Petyr lowered his head slightly, offering a slight shrug as he walked towards the door of the powder room, opening it and letting Rosalee enter the small off-shoot of a washroom.

xxxxx”Oh, but allow me to say that hate is such a dangerous thing…” He frowned slightly, looking to the mirror that was hung on the wall, looking at his reflection with an almost disappointed, disapproving look. How did I get this far lost? What happened to the boy running through the streets with his brother, calling to their father behind them that he best catch up? What happened? Well, that father ran for London. The younger boy became insolent and silent, whilst the older lost himself in anger, trying desperately to search for answers in the pages that held none. The older of the two whom had found himself a betrayer. A liar. A thief. A murderer.

”And I find myself happiest at your side, trailing not too shortly behind.” He managed to smile, looking at Rosalee’s reflection in that very same mirror. She still looked stunning, despite the awful stain that had taken to her skin. The blush that graced her cheeks, it was lovely. Petyr almost forgot what had happened earlier. Almost. But how could one forget that so easily? Not with the threat of death still in that room, he could not even begin to forget this, not for another eternity after.

xxxxxHe leaned against the door frame, shutting the door after Rosalee entered the powder room with him. Petyr looked to the sink for a moment, then turned on the water, grabbing a cloth and wetting it with cold water after earning Rosalee’s insight, offering a small laugh. ”Cold water, eh?” He smiled a bit, pressing the cloth against one of the stains of Rosalee’s dress, wiping at it in hopes to pull the stain from it. ”I do believe you’re quite right with this, Rosie. How long did it take for you to figure that out?” Petyr joked, winking at her with a playful smile. When he pulled the cloth away from her dress, he noticed that the stain had been reduced to something barely visible. Oh, his assassin was truly an expert in her field. Petyr sighed a bit before trying to use that same cloth to remove the stain from his skin, scrubbing lightly. The tint that had taken to his skin was fading back to its natural olive-beige tone he had possessed since a child.

xxxxxHe lifted his head when he heard the ring of the keys, watching Rosalee closely. ”The keys,” he hummed, then smiled. ”I’m sure the men at law will never know the difference. What do you look to give yourself aside from coin?” Petyr couldn’t help his curiousity: His assassin was unpredictable, and at each turn she offered something new, something unexpected and different. And each and every time it left him wondering what was next to come. Where would they go after this, after they went through the lord’s study and picked through everything with a fine-toothed comb? Where would they go, what would they do? Report back to the Brotherhood? ”Of course, it is not my job to allow you or deny you anything.” He allowed himself to give her a wink, ”that is your job for me, however. Last I checked, you dictate the run of things. Seems you’re quite good at your leadership position, do you not agree?” Petyr shrugged a bit at her last question, meeting her eyes. ”Forgery, oh. Do I wish to know? Not particularly, no. However, I’m sure I don’t quite have a choice in that, so go ahead and tell me,” he told her, still smiling. Of course, he was wanting to know her secrets, her insight, whatever she could teach him.

[rogue,]

♔ ．ＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx( ❝ the heir of ash & fire ❞ )xx( ❝ location; victor's estate ❞ )

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Never trust a hug, it is just another way to hide your face. And that was exactly what Rosalee was doing; her arms wrapped around Petyr as he pulled her close, and the assassin turned her face away. "I do not wish to forget what slivers of memories I have, but they are fleeting and I am struggling to chase them." This is the kingdom you gained entrance to. It is cold, and there is but no light. While she was glad for the sympathy and his kind words, Rosie was none too-keen on this becoming pitiful. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was fighting tears. "Do you believe that? If it is true, then why did they just lay down and die? I am finding it difficult to revoke his words, are you not feeling the same?"

His affirmation had a smile returning, the tears in her eyes never breaching the boundaries to roll down her cheeks. Rosalee was far stronger than that. The assassin wouldn't cry over the words of a dead man. "We journey together, side by side as equals." she nodded, eyelashes fluttering open. Training her blank stare on the wall, she tapped her foot. "I am not contesting the idea that it is murder, I am fighting the idea that it was cold-blooded," she only backed away to retrieve the fallen jacket of hers, pulling the pretty furs across her shoulders and sighing at the soft, feather-light feel of it. Petyr didn't appear as relaxed as his assassin, flinching and jumping at the most minutest of sounds. (She could have sworn he would have bolted if she were to simply rustle papers.) It was probably the idea of discovery that had him so on-edge, the guard hairs on the back of his neck raised. The assassin allowed her fingers to brush the back of his hand as reassurance. "There you are. An executioner, serving the higher concept of Death as one of his reapers." he was more than not justifying his actions to himself, but that didn't mean Rosie would stand by.

A sudden flare of her nostrils. "I know this to be truth," she said no more, glancing towards her King. Oh, that was not a good look. Those distant eyes, lost in the world of memories and self-doubt. Furrowing her brows at the expression of dismay and sorrow, Rosie leant forwards, only stopping to brace her hands against the cool ceramic; dusting the mirror reflecting his face with her delicate breath. With nothing but a flourish of her hand, she drew two eyes where his tawny pair shone through, plus the addition of a smile in place of his frown. "My King of Nothing wears a smile."

Rosalee only stole a glance from the corner of her eyes towards him, chuckling. "I do hope you retain that same opinion after your first training session with me." she blinked, and let her arms sway gently by her side, studying herself, more importantly, the blood, in the mirror for a while. At least Petyr could draw some form of comfort from her presence. (And that was not an easy task, if one were to see the fierce Queen in training.)

Watching on as Petyr took her advice, Rosie grinned. "Cold water." she repeated as he dampened the cloth with water from the tap. Rosalee could tell the water was cold; it breached the air and sent a chill spiking through the small powder room. Once he cleaned and wiped at the stain, her hand brushed across the small patch of saturated material that comprised her dress, smiling up at Petyr. The blood was barely visible, as if it had been leeched away by the gods. "See? I am rather informed, no matter how the little Lord may have painted me to be. It took me far longer that you would expect," she laughed, shaking her head at Petyr's wink. She reached across for another cloth, following the steps that her Knight, her King, had taken before washing her arms. Rosalee let out a noise followed by a shiver, her skin prickling into gooseflesh. She wondered how Petyr didn't react to the cold as a natural hue returned to his skin.

"I..." Rosie paused and placed the cloth to the side. "I am no thief. I do look to steal," her hands extended to hold Petyr's, a catch rising in her throat. "I simply want my family's home, my home, back and safe in my possession. That is all. I can raise the funds for it's refurbishments myself, just... I just wish for it to be written in my name and not his." she dropped her head, shut her eyes and sent a silent prayer to her family. Her features only brightened when he sent a wink in her direction, breathing a half-hearted laugh. "Oh, I do hope you prove to be a diligent Initiate." Pressing her lips into a thin line, she twirled and took a hold of a hand mirror, "You asked to know what I do, and I am going to show you both the good and bad. So, you have no choice." she answered, grinning up at him when she noticed his own, wry smile. Holding the pane out in the space between them, flat, she started to speak. "Handwriting, a signature for example, is unique to each individual. Try and directly recreate it, and your own flair will creep into the letterforms, you see?" Rosalee puffed another breath of air to fog the little mirror she held, etching a quick signature that Christoph, styled as Cross, used often in his documents. "You cannot copy that. However... if one were to turn it around," which is what she did by rotating it, "it simply becomes a drawing; a pattern of curvatures and lines. Now, all one need do, is recreate the lines, with no risk of their own hand comprising the signature." as she spoke, Rosie followed her own instructions and formed a perfect replica with an air of finesse. Chuckling softly at the minor success, she glanced up at Petyr with a look of sheer pride.

[important]

❝ p e t y rxxxl é c u y e r ❞xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

( role: turncoat )xx( location: victor's estate )

xxxxx”Keep up with them and they shall never leave you, no matter how vague they appear to you, Rosie.” This is the kingdom I begged for entrance into, so I will hold my head up high and not let anything shake me. He brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, pressing yet another kiss to her head before smiling, pulling away. ”Of course, of course. Sometimes, sometimes we are not given a choice. And it is men like Victor that make it that way, make it to where a man is backed into a corner with no way out. I believe this is what had led to this. Caroline and Alexander--” He paused, the names strange coming from him. The name Caroline sounded more like ‘Cara-o-lynn’, whereas the name Alexander went to ‘Alesande’, the ‘r’ at the end of his name barely audible. ”They cared about you more than you could possibly imagine. They laid down so that you would not have to suffer their same fate. They saved you, Rosie.”

xxxxxEquals, she would say equals, but in truth, Petyr was no where near the level she was at. He was below her, yet she promoted him up there beside her. All for what? Why was she so keen to keep him at his side when Petyr didn’t hesitate to drag his feet behind himself, desperate to slow down and earn some kind of foothold on the situation. Desperate and foolish, that was what Petyr was. A man who wasn’t able to readily accept fate. And it was those kind of men who died first. They did not survive. It was Rosalee who kept him alive, at her side. Do you understand who it is that you are holding at your side, Rosalee? You may believe yourself a demon, but if you are so, then what does that make me, oh what does that leave me to be? A machine, in the end. Created to follow intructions and code with no thought. His eyes flicked downcast. She was offering him reassurance, and strangely, it did seem to soothe a number of his worries. It’s not my fault. It’s just business. A job. A submission that I have to execute in order to move forward. ”Merci, Rosie.”

xxxxxHe hummed in recognition of her words when she claimed to understand the truth of what he had said. Did she truly? He could never know this. Petyr watched her as she moved towards the mirror, fogging the surface with her breath. Curious, his head tilted slightly to lean against the wood of the frame as she drew her thumbs over the space where his eyes were, revealing them beneath the fog. Then she drew a smile over his mouth, and he couldn’t help but to break into a grin at that. ”I will wear a smile so long as my Queen of Nothing wears one to match.”

xxxxxHe rose an eyebrow at her, as if he couldn’t imagine the idea of not continuing this thought, this idealogy. ”Of course. No matter, I will never change my mind. You will learn how stubborn I am, truly.” Petyr offered her yet another smile, nodding in her direction. Lecuyer seemed to take his strength from all the flaws people saw in the assassin. She is vicious, a murderer. No, she deals justice, and she serves the Law with a fierce passion. She is mindless, a weapon built over time with a cold past. Every knife holds an edge, do you not see? You just have to learn how to hold it by the handle, not the blade.

xxxxx”You are, I musn’t argue with that. Oh, no matter how he as attempted to belittle you, I know better than to believe his words. I think I have learned to look past his lies, would you not agree? He can be quite manipulative with those words of his.” Petyr stretched his arms out, brushing the skin once more with the cloth before setting it down aside the sink to allow Rosalee a chance to do the same.

xxxxxPetyr seemed to flinch, hard, at her words. ”I never claimed you to be so. A thief takes what is not theirs.” I, I am the thief between the two of us. Not you, Rosie. He nodded, slowly, at her explaination. Not that she needed to provide him of it, as he would have never asked questions regardless. But earning answers from her even when he didn’t ask, that was something he really did take pride from. It showed that she truly did trust him. ”I see.” He stood up a bit straighter, tapping his fingers gently against the ceramic of the sink. They made a hollow sound, as if he was tapping on plastic or wood. Fake ceramic. How cheap. He couldn’t help a snort of laughter, out of pure spite towards the lord, in light of that fact. ”This,” he pointed out, for no particular reason, ”is fake ceramic.” Petyr seemed proud of himself for realising just how cheap his uncle was. ”I’m sure I will. Well, I will certainly try,” he added on quickly, stumbling over his words but tagging on a smile at the end to make up for his horrid pronunciation. He turned his attention to the handheld mirror that she had, watching the glass. He nodded slowly as she began to speak, carefully drawing out Cross’ signature into the fogged glass of the handheld mirror. Then, when she turned it around and replicated it, Petyr’s eyes went a bit wide. ”Oh,” Petyr mumbled, looking at it until it faded, slowly, from the pane. ”Goodness, Rosie. That is genius. He took the mirror from her, fogging the surface with his breath before using his finger to trace his own signature onto the glass, handing it to Rosalee. [color=#008080]”Show me, again, please?” Petyr’s signature was very unique, what with the ‘y’ and the e acute in his family name. He simply wanted to see if this was true for all signatures, even with the oddity that his own was.