[ ♔. kill your darlings ]

[rogue,]

♔ ．ＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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

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Perhaps Petyr was right, perhaps one day she would recall their faces, hair and eye colours. But until then, Rosie would just continue to chase the flickering shards. Her head nodded. "Merci," she murmured. It is now your kingdom as much as it is mine. Even if it sits empty, with our court of No-one. Clenching her teeth together in a resolute fashion, she forced what she could of a smile when he kissed her head. "I believe you speak the truth, Petyr," she didn't really know how to reciprocate his kindness, having to bite the insides of her cheeks to stop the sorrow from escaping. "Do you miss Christoph?" Or did you draw from my guidance, that is his not your father since he never earnt that right? Do you miss your family, the family whom reside France? Rosie took a long breath. They saved you, Rosie. A blink. Then why does it not feel like it? Instead of dwelling, she listened intently to his words, a genuine smile gracing her features once Petyr reached the pronunciation, the words altered, rather than tainted by his French. Taking his hand in hers, Rosie thought back to the times Petyr had given her the chance to learn his language, and gently helped her own pronunciations. Rosalee smiled warmly at him. "Kah - row - line," accentuating the movements of her mouth like he once had, "and; ah - lex - zarn - der."

You are no liability. You, Petyr Lécuyer, are my wings. Who was it, that taught you otherwise? Whenever Rosalee would mention how he stood beside her, the same rankings, the same position, Petyr would gain a strange look to his features. It were as if he didn't believe it to be true, didn't wish to be held in the same regard. I know full-well whom is by my side, I would choose no other. Are you punishing yourself for flaws you do not harbour and crimes you did not commit? Do you not believe you have a choice? You are no mindless machine, my King, and you have a say in both our actions and words. This is free-will, and you have a choice. Petyr looked down, and Rosie placed a hand on the side of his face to re-gain his attention, his focus. And, she smiled. You are my righteous King. "Je t'en prie." she spoke without missing a beat.

Oh, she knew the truth of hatred, but it didn't change the fact that his assassin held a concentrated rage inside, a pit deeper than any ocean trench. A pit, full of shadows where her killer dwelt, chained, but very much alive. Even the sun dare not touch the darkness that plagued her; it dare not warm the bitterness in her blood. She couldn't change it, but Petyr could. Her eyes watched the fog dissipate into droplets of water, unveiling his full reflection once they glided away. "I wear one exclusively for my King of Nothing." she laughed at his wide, Cheshire grin.

"Oh, I do hope you prove to be are as stubborn as you claim! Training with me is not for the weak of heart," Rosalee shook her head, her nose crinkling upwards as she stifled a chuckle. Where on earth would she begin with the honourable Petyr Lécuyer? The one who held the ability to see right through scandalous claims like a house made of glass, the one whom told truth from lie. I know your name, but do I know your story?

Rosalee was taking a different approach, where Petyr would scrub and brush the bloodstains away, she would instead rest the cloth against her arms, allowing the cloth to soak the stain before pulling it away. Soak and repeat, soak and repeat. "You are quite the master at deducing lies from truth, I believe it to be so," she nodded. "Manipulation, yes, he and Christoph were both alike in that sense."

Her hands flew up in mock surrender when he flinched, trying to convey that the harsh edge to her words were not intended to lash out at him. "There is claim, but there is also belief." Why do you believe yourself to be the thief? Petyr had successful entered her kingdom, and it was why she believed he deserved her motives and explanations. It was something she did want to share with him, to show her faith in her King. "I was never able to renovate it while Victor still lived, my home and the business was, still is, written in his name, and he would have grown suspicious if contractors suddenly appeared to rebuild it. However much I may have wanted to throughout my years, I couldn't." at her sides, Rosie's hands clenched into fists, flexing and contracting over and over. Rosalee's head tilted to the side when he tapped at the basin, furrowing her brows when he claimed to to be painted as to appear as ceramic. "Fake?" she did the same, tapped it and then scraped at the underside of it with a knife. "Oh, you are clever, Petyr! And he held the audacity to lecture us about gold? About my home?" she laughed, grateful that he had shared his insight with her. "Tomorrow, we shall see, my diligent little Initiate," she teased in a light-hearted manner. Rosie's eyes were more or less fixed upon the mirror, able to see Petyr's image as Cross' signature faded through the fog. "I do try," she chuckled as he whisked away the mirror to draw out his own unique hand. A challenge! Rosalee did love a challenge, and Petyr's signature surely was one! She gently held back onto the mirror, her finger hovering above, tracing the upside-down signature with a calculating eye. Decadent loops coupled with a delicate accent. His signature, truly, was beautiful. It flowed across the sea of fog in the same way ivy twisted to forge a path along a trellis. (If it were not temporary, Rosalee would have framed it.) She drew little loops in the air to capture the finesse of his hand, (well, the upside-down picture that is), as practice. Then, once she was sure she had it, she touched her finger against the mirror, and copied the pattern with a concentration like no other. "The trick," she smiled wide after a strong start, finishing the flourish of his looping signature, "is confidence." she beamed at Petyr, and held up the mirror for him to see. "Oh, do tell! Which one is yours?"

[important]

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

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

xxxxxHe smiled a bit, glad to see her take strength from him like he did her. "Je t'en prie, mon chéri." You are welcome, my darling. At her question, he stopped suddenly, his eyelashes fluttering several times. Did he miss his father? Of course he did. He missed his father just as much as he missed his mother, as his brother. "I miss the man that had raised us before he left. Do I miss him now? No. I cannot miss a man who has done this to me, done this to you. I miss him, but not for who he had become. You should understand... Before he left for London, he was a father. I miss him as he was my father." Petyr glanced away from Rosalee, his posture straightening just slightly. When she took his hand, he met her eyes again, listening to her pronunciation carefully. He repeated each syllable, trying to stress them as Rosie had. His was slightly off from hers, but it was as close as he could get with his accent acting as the only barrier. "Caroline and Alexander Dagenhart." Petyr used Rosalee's pronunciations, the one with her unique accent put on it. He then laughed at himself, at his words. He said them correctly, but it felt like he was talking with a different tongue.

xxxxxHis left hand went straight back to his right wrist, gently rubbing the skin there with his thumb. Why? Why was he still so nervous? He reached over, clicking the lock on the door to the small powder room, wincing some at the soft sound that it made when he did. My decision, my decision makes no difference. My thoughts are meaningless where yours are gold. You see this? I am nothing, truly nothing. Petyr seemed unsure of himself as the time kept growing. I will be your King, but know that I will not give orders. I take, never give. A choice, she was offering him a choice. But why? All for what? In the end, it was choices that brought people down. Choices were dangerous, and offering a man the opportunity to have a choice was even worse. "Dagenharts ne pas mendier. Ce qui va nous arriver maintenant?" He let a beat pass, before offering her his translation: "Dagenharts do not beg. What will happen to us?" Petyr's English version was quieter than the French, whispered softly.

xxxxxHatred was fate disguised as a demon, fit with claws and fangs, ready to kill and grab and steal. Fate was merciless, but hatred knew exactly how to twist mercy around into its own favour, just right -- Just enough to snag a man foolish enough to let hate take over his soul. That was hate, the monster that it was. He finally smiled at her laugh, lowering his head just slightly as he watched her. "Then I one for my Queen of Nothing." Petyr bowed to her then.

xxxxx"My stubborn nature is unmatched, I must admit. I pull that from my mother, you may thank her." Petyr's eyes grew slightly wider as he grinned at her, the corners of his lips turning upwards. "I can assure you that I am not one with such a weak heart. Those men were dumped at the training grounds, and I believe I surpassed those long ago." Ask me, ask me. One day you will know.

xxxxxPetyr noticed the difference, where he scrubbed from impatience, she let the cloth rest atop her skin. "Is that so?" He rose an eyebrow at her, giving her a look before chuckling. "I trust your judgement. Though, I don't think I own quite that much glory." With a man who lied for a living raising a young boy, that boy would soon learn how to differentiate the lie from the truth. "Perhaps I could teach you as you have taught me," he told her, with a thoughtful hum, low in his throat.

xxxxxWhen her hands lifted in surrender, he nodded to accept that he understood perfectly. "Claim and belief are two separate sides of a story. One requires evidence." He paused, watching her with careful eyes. "The other is based off fear." I have stolen a life, how could I be anything but? "That makes enough since to me... It would certainly raise suspicion. It was wise of you to wait. My mother used to tell me that the best things came to those who waited. I was never a patient child growing up, if you could not tell this." Petyr smiled. He reached out with a hand, gently resting it atop Rosie's fist, taking it into his hand. He then let it drop when she tapped the basin, nodding slowly as she deduced this as well as he did. "He is quite the hypocrite," Petyr admitted, giving the surface another tap. Tomorrow? So soon? That was quite all right. He would hold up, she would see just how well he could comply. "You work astoundingly, there is no try in your work. Merci, for showing me." He lowered his head in his thanks. The turncoat watched the assassin as she looked over Petyr's signature, taking it apart and recreating it several times until she earned something akin to confidence. Then, she perfectly executed a replica of it just below. He took the mirror from her when she held it up, assessing it before turning it ride side up. He blinked several times, then grinned. "Oh! You are quite the professional in your field!" Petyr exclaimed with a burst of laughter.

[rogue,]

♔ ．ＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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

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Rosalee pulled him into a strong embrace after he spoke his French. It was both in an effort to draw comfort from him, and to hide her face again. Her façade fell for a heartbeat once she leant backwards and saw the flutter of Petyr's eyelids. There were far more emotions swirling in his heart than she had first realised. Despite this, however, he response was strong; fire on his tongue. "How... how did he leave, if you do not mind me asking? Did he leave a note or...?" she pursed her lips, and trailed off. Rosalee slowly nodded along, meeting his shining, bronze orbs. "I understand," the breath stole from her lungs, voice breaking. "I understand he was your father. He never, never, should have forsaken you and your mother, your brother. Never." she shook her head as her shoulders curved inwards. Rosie suddenly found it difficult to swallow. "He does not deserve your sorrow nor anguish. He is not worthy of your love." Still she held onto his wrist, with her touch, feather light. There was a spike in her pulse. Rosalee's face brightened at his determination with the pronunciations, and her mouth fell open slightly at how quick he took to her London accent. To her, it was flawless. "Merci, merci." she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Dropping her head and shutting her eyes, Rosie smiled.

Petyr had a tell. A tell that he was nervous, she realized. It was the way he rubbed at his wrists; precise and thoughtful. Rosalee had come to learn that everyone had their tells, whether it was a bite of the lip or a glance to the right, everyone held one or two to signify emotions. Be it a lie, fear or anger. Only with Petyr's case, it was nerves. Rosalee wore a look of understanding on her features. Orders and choice are different, my Petyr. You have a choice where upon you choose what you believe to be right, do not follow orders that compromise your personal believes and morals. I wish not to influence your standing. I will train and teach you, I only ask that you question me if you hold any worries, please? Her face fell at the faint click of the powder room lock. The assassin didn't have a fear of confined spaces per se, (since her strongholds were usually corners and ventilation systems) but she did have a strange form of heat-induced claustrophobia. A confined space: perfectly fine. A hot, confined space: her idea of a nightmare. Rosie made a panicked noise, frantic to turn on the cold taps to cool down the room, running her hands underneath the frozen stream. Shutting her eyes, she focused on the cold. "Petyr and Rosalee do not give in. Petyr and Rosalee do not succumb to darkness. Petyr and Rosalee do not break. We do not fade, we burn. We fear no evil, suffer no fools and bow to no master." she made sure to speak as bravely as she could, noticing how faintly he whispered.

There was a certain chill to the air, thanks to Rosalee's efforts, and her shoulders relaxed somewhat. She was sure to dry her hands, able to shake the unease clinging to her shoulders. Far too much hate, she harboured far too much of it. Luckily, thanks to Petyr, it hadn't deformed itself into vengeance like it had wanted to. Petyr acted as her tether, and she was grateful that he stood by her side through it all. Even slew a demon for her! With a grin at his bow, she pulled free the longest dagger she had on her (which was around the length of three quarters of a forearm), and pretended to Knight him. "I dub thee, Petyr Lécuyer, as my King of Nothing." her head dipped.

Staying her blade back in the carefully-crafted holdall, she grinned. "I am holding you to that, and do thank your mother for me," Rosalee laughed at his smile, at the way the corners of his lips upturned. "Oh, you have previously proved yourself to be strong of heart, choosing to stand by my side and venture into the world of Assassins." This is me; asking you. "I do so desperately wish to hear a story of yours. What was training with the Guard like?"

A hand ran through what it could of her hair, plucking at the strands. Rosalee frowned at her reflection, at the charcoal hair, turning her head to view it from different angles. The blue tinge shone as it caught the light; giving it a somewhat ghostly glow. She sighed, a haunted tune, pulling away from the mirror and the reflection that wasn't completely Rosalee. Her mouth pushed to the side. Turning on the tap, she wetted her hands, taking her time to wash the darkness away from a long strand. Her tense shoulders instantly relaxed once her tawny-auburn hair revealed itself, even if it were slightly smudged with ink. It was a relief, just to know it was still there; that underneath all the dye and lashings of kohl, she was still the reckless Rosalee Dagenhart. "Of course it is. You have a unique eye for the art of the spoken word." she shot him a side glance, hints of a smile tugging at her lips. "I would like that." at the tune of his hum, she lifted her chin. "You make quite the lovely violin!" she laughed.

Rosie's muscles tensed themselves again, flicking her eyes to the lock once more. Christoph installed locks to the doors of our rooms. He locked me in my room, and himself in his, after the first basement incident. She swallowed audibly, face blanching of colour. Her pulse was even visible in the tightly-strung tendons of her neck. She wasn't too fond of how closely Petyr watched her as she struggled to calm herself. "I always opt for evidence. Always proof." That does not make you a thief. You are Death's vessel. "It did not stop me from visiting and retrieving my own set of keys. I have my own Assassin's cache hidden in the floorboards. The fool never did change any of the locks, he was in it purely for spite and the monetary gains." she frowned, but lighted at Petyr's comment and the way he held onto her curled hand. He always had a way to improve her mood. "Ah! Were you an impulsive child whom refused to wait? You were not alone in this," she couldn't help but laugh. Flakes of the fake ceramic fluttered onto the tiled floor after she scraped it free. Rosalee turned her nose up at it, "I agree, I agree." The hollow tap resonated, freezing her blood. It wasn't the best of sounds. "Je t'en prie, my Petyr, Je t'en prie." she laughed as he surveyed the two identical scriptures, next to no indiscretions between the two. When he burst into laughter after such praise, her smile brightened the room. "You offer me far too much credit! Do you wish to try?"

[important]

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

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

xxxxxPetyr held her close to him when she pulled him into yet another hug. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, acting as a shield; a protective barrier from the outside world. If they were to get to her, to her Achilles heel, they would have to get through him. If he realised her intent with every hug, how she buried her face into his shoulder, hiding from the world, he did not say anything. Everyone had secrets, and everyone was allowed to break and cry and wish to hide from the world. Petyr understood full well that Rosie needed this opportunity especially. At her question, his mind acting as if to shut down on her, but he wouldn’t let that happen. That was his natural reaction to everything, shut everything out, push people away from the man who hid behind the walls of his façade. On the outside, he was strong and confident. Inside, he was far too vulnerable. But, as she had let him into her kingdom of Nothing, he would grant her access into his feelings, into his past. The wounds from that very same past still reverberate into his life, even now, after all those years. ”A note would have been too simple.” Petyr’s eyes closed, trying to bar out the tears that were starting to well. ”He told my brother, that day, he told him that he would help him with his hand, sword handling, that next morning. My brother wanted to join the guard just as I had wanted to and did. My father agreed to help my brother with it.. He told me,” he paused, his voice growing deeper with the onslaught of emotion that had suddenly pulled on him, threatening to drag him down, ”he told me to keep my eyes up and not to believe everything I heard. Then he told me he loved me. That morning, he was gone. My brother and I searched the streets for him, but there wasn’t a trace of him. I thought he died, or was murdered during the night. My brother knew the truth, told me that he had ran away.

xxxxx“But both my mother and my brother, they believed that he would come back. And, you know how it goes. Weeks turn into months, months turn into years, years turn into decades…” He exhaled shakily, moving a hand up to his eyes, pressing his fingers against them to wipe away the at the tears that had managed to slip from his eyes. ”Désolé,” he apologised. ”I do not mean to do this now,” he murmured. ”He does not deserve my tears, yet I still give them to him. Is that bad? Oh, Rosie, he tells me not to trust anything, then turns to tell me how he loves me. Am I to trust any of that?” Yet another moment of silence passed for him, then he finally earned the nerve to ask her a question. ”Am I anything like him?” Petyr wasn’t sure what answer he was hoping from her. A yes, a no, he didn’t know. He just wanted to know one of them.

xxxxxRosalee wasn’t so easy to read until you looked her in the eyes. Even Petyr himself knew that he was quite the open book. When he was nervous, it was his wrists. Anger made his fists clench, his shoulders go back as if he were ready to defend himself and fight. Sadness, however, tore him down. Stripped away that exterior that he fought so hard to keep up. But, when it came to lies, Petyr was free of that obvious thing that would sell him out. The guard commended him for his ability to lie so freely without detection. How could I not be so good? I learned from the master liar, who now lies dead. Just as he could deduce truth from lie, he could hide truth and tell naught but lie. My entire life has been filled with nothing but orders given from a person of higher interest. I do not have a choice, but you do. You have the choice to walk away. I must bind my sword to orders. His head lifted at the noise Rosie gave when Petyr had locked the door, his eyes slightly widening as he watched her turn the tap onto the coldest setting, wetting her hands underneath it. He inhaled, his shoulders giving a light shudder at the slight drop in temperature. We burn. ”You carve the path. You are the fire, Rosie. I am simply the traveler who follows your light, because it is the only thing I have left.” Petyr lifted his eyes, looking to her reflection in the mirror and offering a small smile. ”I only bend my knee to one person, and that is my Queen of Nothing. Though you may not bow, as you are a Dagenhart, I will always swear fealty to someone. That is who I am, who I was raised to be. And I bow to you, and you alone.”

xxxxxHe noticed how she seemed to relax, to calm down now that the room was significantly cooler. Petyr had struggled with that ugly thing known as hatred his entire life, and had soon learned how to kennel it and control it, feeding it slowly so that it would leave him alone. When she drew her dagger and pressed the flat end to each of his shoulders, he couldn’t help but to chuckle, briefly kneeling as she did this. His head lowered slightly, then he raised it to look her in the eyes as he stood back up to his full height. (He was taller than Rosalee-- He had long learned that since the first time he had stood directly next to her. It was a pretty large height difference, but Petyr never said anything about it. A handful of centimetres was all he had on her.) ”I thank you, then, my lady, my Queen of Nothing.”

xxxxx”I will make sure to do just that, in the next opportunity I have to see her again. Perhaps you could deliver that thanks yourself? Who knows what the future holds for you?” And when referring to that very same future, Petyr always said ‘you’, as if it was solely Rosalee’s. He never said us. Habit. A nasty, nasty, habit of not trusting in my own self to be by your side. Do not blame me. ”The world of Assassins has proven to be quite an adventure. Thank you for the lovely invitation into that world.” His brown eyes seemed to widen slightly, and he sighed gently, leaning against the wall near the wash basin. ”Absolute and all seven hells, that’s what it was. Just as is training of a lord or a knight, they focused mainly on the art of wielding a sword,” he made a motion with his hand as if he was holding a sword, swinging it, ”and defense in that very same art. There was no intelligence in it. No strategy. Just, swing your sword and hope you hit the right place. I hated it.” Petyr laughed a bit as he recalled the memory. ”Which is why I was almost glad they let me take on the life of a betrayer, as horrible as that sounds. However, that was a punishment. I had… Well, we won’t call it treason for the sake of my pride. Just know that I am not the most innocent bystander that you have stumbled upon, Rosie. As my punishment, they had me take on the hood and cloak.” He tapped the side of his temple, smiled.

xxxxxPetyr blinked when the blue caught the light just right, shining against the black of her hair. She then turned on the water once more, washing the colour from her hair. Petyr visibly relaxed as the auburn of her hair returned from beneath the black-blue tint. ”You look beautiful.” Petyr complimented her as her hair began to return to its natural shade. There were still bits of black, but those would come out in due time. ”Merci. I certainly do try. I will teach you what I can,” he told her, then smiled at her compliment. ”Though not as quite as good as yours, I must admit.”

xxxxxHe noticed the tense of her shoulders, and he stilled as he watched her. This is not that house. This is not the same. Here, you are safe, here, you are not alone. I am with you. ”That is good. Evidence is what puts people so far under to where they can only be proven as guilty. That is true justice.” Then what would that make Victor? If I am not a thief? Petyr nodded, listening to her closely. ”I see.” He then laughed, nodding. ”I was! I couldn’t wait, and my mother would have to sit me down and make me wait just to learn my lesson.” Petyr grinned, lifting his head a bit before looking back to her. ”Oh, there is no such thing as far too much credit. You are an expert in your field!” He paused, shrugged. ”Sure, I will. Here,” he stopped, brushing the signatures away on the surface before fogging it once more, handing it to her. ”Your signature,” he murmured. ”So that I may practise.”

[rogue,]

♔ ．ＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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

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She couldn't exactly pin-point the reasoning as to why, but her new-found Petyr-shield graced her with an innate awareness of safety. His arms tore Rosie away from the world, housing her securely in his presence. Who needed a mask of indifference when they had a whole other person to protect them? Rosie had her Petyr, and Petyr had his Rosie. The King and Queen of Nothing. At her query, she felt him tense, his shoulders bunch and his arms freeze. He was going to push her away, that's what she expected from his body language. Only, he proved her wrong. He spoke his heart. "That, what he did... that is what a coward does. A coward runs." Oh, I should not have, it is not my place... Time, he needed time. And she knew that. Yet, she also realised people needed to vent their emotions, lest they morph into creatures of hatred and rage. Whenever there was a lull in his speech, Rosalee would reach out and squeeze his wrist. She could hear the emotions flooding his tongue, unravelling his confidence. I'm here. You are fine. I am with you. Then, she would offer him a kind smile. He told me to keep my eyes up, Rosie huffed. Yes, because assassins travel via the rooftops. We are aligned with the sky. May the winds be always at our back. Petyr was questioning, while Rosalee saw through Christoph's game of smoke and mirrors. "He did not want to tell you, because he did not wish for you to sway his decision, you know this? It is not my place... but trust when I say, I knew Cross' underhanded ways. Your younger sibling held no candle to his mind, but you, you my dear King, he was afeared you may alter his mind. And that: that is why I unequivocally, without so much as a doubt, believe he did love you."

"I know he loved you right through his dying breath, yet not in the same way we understand the word," she frowned, thinking of a way to best describe it. "He wished not for love to destroy him. And you held the ability to do so, as you held his heart and well, he could not have that. To him: love was weakness. And Master Assassin Cross, could not be weak. He... he was wrong," The assassin stole another step closer to the turncoat. "You need not apologize. No, Petyr, no. It is not bad, it proves that you care, but it also shows it has a hold over you. You have the power in your heart, to let him go. Do this, and you will be free." He wished for assurance, an assurance she wasn't sure she could provide. Rosalee's primal reaction was to respond with a defiant no, her lips parting to speak the sound; only for the breath to seize her lungs. The answer wasn't a no, but nor was it a yes either. The lines were not as clean-cut as that. Conflicted upon her ultimate response, she allowed a mental picture of Christoph to piece itself together in her mind. A long sigh passed, the assassin evaluating and calculating away. Between the growing distance of Petyr's glistening eyes, her heart cried out and with it, a bolt of white-hot lightning shot through the air. A sudden, unexpected smile graced her features: Rosie knew exactly what to say. And so, she gave him the answer the only way she knew how. "You have his hair," her hand ran through the dark brown, almost shadow-coloured locks of his, "but not his eyes." Rosie's thumb brushed against his cheek to dry the remainder of his tears. "You have his chin, but not his shoulders," her hand then lifted and hovered over his heart. "You hold each and every one of his positive traits, yet none of his flaws. Your heart is far more affectionate than his ever was," her eyebrows rose and her expression was soft.

If it weren't for Petyr's tells, she probably wouldn't know him as well as she did. Though, it was those tells Rosalee would need to teach him to tame when facing the Council and her assassin brethren. They would slice him apart limb by limb in an effort to kill his emotions. They meant well, though; as any enemies would surely use emotion against them in the long run. It was the reason why Rosalee's tells were only shown around her most trusted. But she could never quite grasp the art of the lie like Petyr did. The liar's protégé, you are. But it was not spoken silently with condescension. Rather, it was an opportunity. Rosie knew he wouldn't lie to her, but it would definitely benefit them on missions. I dislike that amount of power, my Petyr. I wish not to be held above you on a pedestal, I want no part of that. Her distress had eased, now she had filled the room with a touch of ice. "Oh, but you are the spark, Petyr! Without you, my fire is nothing." at Petyr's proclamation of trust and sworn oath, something changed on Rosie's features. Whether it was defiance or stupidity, Rosalee clenched her teeth and set her jaw. Her chest heaved with deep, fiery breaths and she shoved her chin forwards. The assassin, the mighty assassin, was swallowing her pride. This is my vow to you. "Petyr and Rosalee, the King and Queen of Nothing, call the monsters and demons by name; if they ask for our teeth and nails, we demand their blood. If they ask for a curl of our hair instead, we demand their tongue and brittle bones. We walk, heads held high, with the knowledge that the monsters cower in our presence."

Beware of the dog that bites the hand that feeds it. That was a wolf; no dog. And one never turned their back upon a wild canine, no matter how tame it appeared; for even the most tranquil wolf would turn given a hair's breath of a chance. You could fool yourself into believing otherwise; to your own peril. It would end in your untimely demise. And just like wild animals, one never did turn their back to an assassin. She smiled as Petyr allowed her to Knight him. Without a bended knee and raised to his full height, he was significantly taller than her. "And you are welcome, my King." Of course, she didn't mind the height difference; Rosie could always knock him down a few centimetres tomorrow, perhaps, she thought with a teasing grin.

A breathy laugh escaped the assassin. "Oh, can I?" her happiness was like a child whom had been gifted a jar of sweets. I trust in you to be there. How can I blame you? "You are most welcome!" she smiled and let her rigid posture relax once he leant against the nearby wall. Rosie grinned at his demonstration of sword-fighting, going as far as to dodge his blows. "I am no master in the art of swordsmanship, you are most likely better than me, yet I believe I may be able to improve your standing. Oh, Petyr, did they teach you that techniques must become second nature in order for them to be effective?" Rosie smiled brightly at him, at his story. To be let into his memories was all she wanted. "See? You were even on the side of the assassins back then! It is fate." she chuckled light-heartedly. "I understand if you wish not to tell me, so until that day, I will believe your offence not to have been a crime."

Rosie wasn't the best at accepting compliments, and a a pink colour tinged her cheeks. She did however, notice how he relaxed at the sight of her natural hair. "Why, merci, my charming King." she latched a drawl to her words. After a pause as the water crawled upwards towards the roots of her hair, Rosie liberated the flowers, laughing and reaching out to tuck them behind Petyr's ears. "Hold these for me, would you?" she joked, arranging them to form an intricate crown in his hair, the same way she had styled hers. Oh, it was quite the sight! The noble Knight, standing tall with flowers adorning his head. Rosie was still laughing away as she rinsed out what she could of the inky tendrils. "I will await the day with bated breath," she grinned. "But better!" she brushed at her forehead, using a clean towel to dry her hair.

Petyr froze, and Rosie drew a breath. But it shares similarities. It shares nightmares concealed as false hope. I do, I believe you. "I am glad we are on the same page. We are just." Gods, do I hold many words for Victor! It is best not to go there. Shaking her head, she laughed along with him. "Petyr, I do hope you don't give me a reason to make you to sit in the corner tomorrow," Rosie's grin widened at her audacious joke. Meeting his eyes again had her skin flushed. "And so will you, soon enough! Merci," Rosalee held onto the mirror and pressed her finger against the cool mirror, only to flinch. "...Rosalee does not have a signature, Miss Jones is the one that does." nervous laughter, "I guess it is time that I have my very own." so she let her mind guide her hand, drawing out a pretty little signature where the 'o' of Rosalee was styled as a heart. Granted, it wasn't as sophisticated as Petyr's own hand, but it was fine nonetheless. "I think this shall do," averting her eyes, she held out the mirror for him.

[important]

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

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

xxxxxHe blinked several times, trying his hardest to not let his emotions show, to not let himself feel the anger, the sadness, the pain. Petyr spoke about emotions, but oh, did he hate them. Hated how they made people act. How happiness made a man jovial and free, as if nothing were wrong when the whole world was what was wrong. How sadness turned a man silent, sullen, and still. Anger, which would quickly turn to something far worse than just that. ”Cowards may run away, this is true. But a coward at least looks back. My father did not look back. He obliterated everything that had been behind him so that it could not haunt him. My father was not a coward. Victor was a coward. Christoph Lécuyer was not.” His mother had always taught him not to speak ill of the dead. Yet, it was true. Between the two brothers, Victor was the coward. Victor ran each time he was found, and would look behind him to see if his past was following him. Christoph hadn’t thought to look back, hadn’t thought to think twice, even. The man had simply shoved everything aside, creating a new life and abandoning the one he had carried in France. Her smiles, they were enough to inspire an entire country, to cause an empire to bend their knee. Oh, no, it is not all just and all fine. But I trust in you, and for the moment, I am fine. Petyr remembered the very first lesson that the guard had taught him after he had been tasked with being a turncoat for them. Keep your eyes up, that is where they lurk so they cannot been seen by man. He had first heard these words from his father, who had left him so many years before he heard it again that second time. ”He did not tell anyone, then, I presume. Regardless… If he were as great as his brother made him out to be, then nothing would sway him. Not me, not my brother, not his own wife. Men like that, they love no-one.” Petyr’s tone was bitter, words ill.

xxxxx”He…” Petyr stopped, trying to find words to fill in, to say. ”My father. He was my father. Fathers hold love for their sons just as they do their daughters, but this is a different love than the one they share for their wives.” These were the exact words that his mother had shared with him the day after Christoph’s disappearance. When the assassin took a step closer, he merely blinked, looking to her. He left me so that he might find someone else to better raise, to better bend with his will. Is this it? Petyr opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words fell out. Only silence. She was pulling over her own decisions, too: He could see the cogs turning as she flipped between a yes and a no, trying to find which was the better one to tell him. He pressed his lips together into a thin line, closing his eyes briefly as she smiled, moving closer to him. She brushed her hands through his hair, and he sighed gently, looking into her eyes. His hair, but not his eyes. He tried to recall what he could of the dead man lying on the stone, his face bruised and bloodied from battle, and a hood obscuring most of his features. A strong jawline, dark lashes that were closed to prevent Petyr from seeing those eyes. His chin, but not his shoulders. Instinctively, his shoulders squared and he nodded, smiling a bit as she used her thumb to wipe the tears away. All of his positive traits, and yet none of his flaws. Yet I will never be the same man, if not a better one, than he, despite everything he had done.

xxxxxPetyr had always told himself that it was his emotions that would end him. His emotions that would lead to his untimely death, his unfortunate demise. But it was those emotions that had brought him this far, that have given him everything. He understood his own feelings so well, as well as other people’s. That was his gift, his forté. I learn as I go. Victor managed to make me his apprentice, but I am nothing like him, I assure you. Lies were twisting and evil. Lies led to hate, which led to death. For a man to say that he excells in the art of lying is to say he is equivalent to a thief, a murderer. A liar steals the right to truth from another man. Please, I am nothing compared to you, and nothing without you. You may be the ruler of your kingdom of nothing, but to me, you are everything. ”Though we both know that the spark serves no purpose without that flame that feeds it.” The source of ignition, that was what Rosalee was comparing to. The initial spark that sets things aflame. Was he truly? Or was he the water that dampened her flames? The fan that kept her going? His head lifted when she spoke, her words lifting him. ”We are more than they are.”

xxxxxIf you play with fire, sooner or later, you will get burned. He had heard this so many times: from his father, his mother, Victor, the captain of the guard. Every single one of them, warning him. Fire was a deadly weapon, yet it was something that offered him so much. Flames, that was what Rosalee was. The pure essence of the fire she was born from, like a phoenix rising from her own ashes to be reborn from the peril of her past. Petyr allowed himself to smile, and he lowered his head just slightly before gently taking her hand, pressing a kiss to it before letting it go, meeting her eyes. The gold that swam atop the blue seemed brighter, somehow. More vibrant.

xxxxx”Of course, only if you’d like,” he told her with a playful smile. I will certainly try, for you sake. Don’t put your trust all in one place, I must warn you. I’ve been known to disappoint. His expression brightened when she acted as if to block his hits. ”Do you truly believe so? I think I could help you a bit with the sparring, if you would allow me that.” He stood up a bit straighter, pulling away from the wall he had been leaning against. ”These techniques that they taught us were hardly so. Much of it I had learned before my service in the guard, before the training they gave us. My father taught me most of what I know. He was good in that aspect.” Even at the mention of his father, Petyr was smiling at the memory. He then laughed, shaking his head slowly. ”I suppose I just didn’t know it. I don’t quite understand the entire feud that goes down between the brotherhood and the templars, but I’ve long learned not to ask questions.” Petyr shrugged, but still remained lighthearted.

xxxxx”Je t’en prie, mon chéri. It is certainly my pleasure.” Petyr chuckled a bit at the blush that tinted her cheeks. When she pulled the flowers from her hair and tucked one behind the turncoat’s ear, he found his own face heat up, and he laughed a bit as he caught his reflection in the mirror. ”I will hold onto them, and wear my crown for my Queen,” he said in a teasing manner as she set the flowers around his head. He reached up, touching the flowers and laughing once more. He certainly looked foolish, but it was given to him from his assassin, so who was he to argue? He watched as she rinsed the remaining black from her hair, freeing it back to its natural auburn.

xxxxxNot here. Not with me. Petyr could not say he understood her fear, but he certainly sympathised. ”And it through that justice that we will serve,” he murmured, nodding slowly. Then we shan’t. He turned to look at her when she quipped at him about having to sit him in corner, as if he were a child. ”I will try my best to behave tomorrow, Rosie. No promises, however.” Petyr winked, then grinned. At the mention of not owning a signature of her own, he nodded slowly, moving a bit closer to her. ”Well, it is never too late to make one for Rosalee,” he told her. When she did draw it out atop the surface of the glass, he smiled at the heart that adorned her name. ”It’s lovely,” he told her, taking the mirror from her hand. Petyr turned it upside down, looking over the loops and curves that it had formed, tracing them with his eyes before attempting to repeat it below the original. Granted, it wasn’t as good as Rosie’s, nor as quick and confident, but he tried. When he turned it back the right way, he winced at him imitation of it. It looked similar, but if one were to look closely, they would see that the two signatures were not created by the same person. ”Oh, dear. I certainly tried,” he said with a bit of a nervous laugh, handing it back to Rosie for inspection.

[rogue,]

♔ ．ＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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

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Cry if you must, Petyr, do not bottle it up inside. Rosalee could see it; the beasts Petyr was trying to control by lashing them to the walls of his mind. A creature contained was twice as vicious. Do not tear yourself apart by keeping them at bay. Rosie let her tongue press against the inside of her cheek. He obliterated everything that had been behind him so that it could not haunt him, he had said. Only, she didn't believe that to be strictly true. Christoph had never spoken of his family, it was a given, but that was out of his warped ideologies of self-defence. It did not mean he had forgotten. "Then what was he other than a coward? A heartless monster? A cruel father?" No matter what Petyr silently spoke, Rosie would keep her smile for him. It was small, simple, but heartfelt. It could have bought her all the gold in the world! Remember I am always here. "Petyr. Hear me out. Victor over-sold Christoph. He had no heart that I could discern, and I believe he had shut it away because you held it. You held a hold over him, whether or not you wish to believe it. You did."

"...I would not know. I will hold you to it." At least he seemed to be speaking from experience. He left me so that he might find someone else to better raise, to better bend with his will. To that, she bared her teeth; and backed up a step, the exact way an animal would when preparing to lunge for the throat. She scratched at the nook of her elbow. Rosie had taken his words the wrong way. Why are you looking at me like that? Don't you dare make this about me! Don't you dare question if I was worth the pain and anguish! He never loved me, Petyr, not as a friend, and certainly not as the makeshift daughter I tried to be. I was no replacement for you nor Serge, however much I may have tried! By the devil, did I try. I told him I loved him as if he were my father, Petyr! And that was the first bloody day he threw me into that godforsaken basement! Don't you dare have the audacity to shift the blame onto me! "Do not fight me. I know he loved you, now, leave me be!" she barely stifled the hiss of her words. Just as she was quick to anger, she was quick to drop it. Too far, she'd taken things too far over a stupid misunderstanding. "I should not have... I am sorry," Everything she had said in terms of similarities seemed to give him a sense of pride; returned him to the confident Petyr she knew. Rosalee looked awfully apologetic in light of her overflowing anger, but it was his little smile, the hint of a grin that settled her. "You are everything he was not. And, and, je t'aime for it." with those whispered words, she turned herself away.

Just because Rosalee could read people, their motives, intents and feelings, did not mean that she understood them. And Petyr excelled where she faltered. He was far more in touch with emotions and feelings, unlike the assassin, whom barely held a sliver of anything other than anger and ferocity. I never believed it for a second. The truth hurt. Oh, but the truth cost nothing, whereas a lie could cost everything. Once a single lie was discovered, it caused doubt to seep into every truth. You are! You are my King. I wish not for you to rely on me, because I cannot guarantee that I will not let you down. "The spark is everything, the spark gives the flame a chance at life." Rosalee idly glanced at his eyes, nodding firmly.

Fire... such a deadly element. Never could you trust the thing. Thing is, you only got burnt by fire if you weren't meant to touch it. Petyr was Rosie's spark, and therefore, immune to his creation. Petyr was immune; immune only to Rosie's fire. I am immune to you, you are immune to me. He kissed her hand, and she held his over her heart. Her pulse missed a beat while she watched the fires flare in his eyes.

Rosie nodded profusely. "Yes, yes! I would adore the opportunity! Oh, Petyr, merci," This time, she pulled him into another hug, the only difference was that she didn't bother to hide her face; a grin now a permanent feature on her face. For both our sakes, please? I will not heed your advice, as I believe you to be my most trusted. Rosalee couldn't hide her amusement at their little charade of swordsmanship. "I do. I have been told I fight like a dancer, all twirls and pirouettes; therefore I only really deal with shortened daggers and my trusted hidden blade as opposed a sword." she touched at her wrist, where her gauntlet was usually strapped. "Hm, he was well versed with a sword. I am glad for that, then! If only, because you are still alive." she raised her eyebrows. "...The Mark of Cain. Well... it is best not to broach the subject, yes?" lightly, she tapped him on the nose.

Rosie had to admit, she felt much better now that Petyr's face was decorated with a flush. "May I say: You look rather dashing with such a crown!" she watched his reflection in the mirror as darkened water cascaded from the locks of her hair, only to swirl down the drain. Black still stained her natural hair, but there was far less of it now. Just smatterings of ink here and there. Satisfied with it for now, Rosie rubbed her damp hair through with a towel, before bundling the cloth atop her head. "You may need to hold onto them for but a while longer," Beads of water trickled down her face.

I am not afraid. Rosalee clenched her teeth, rolling her neck and swiping at the droplets of water on her face. She only nodded at his affirmation, pulling the wrap tighter around her shoulders. Then, merci. "Oh, I do secretly hope you give me the opportunity to scold you," she teased, not exactly meaning it in the slightest. Laughter escaped, and she touched Petyr's shoulder at his sly wink. "Still, I much prefer your own hand." she admitted, smiling at his compliment. Watching on, she remained quiet and composed, often looking away as not to make him nervous. Rosie did note, however, how he had observed her and traced the letter forms in the air before drawing it out on the mirror. To herself, she smiled secretly. Once he had finished, Rosie held the mirror up, clearly impressed. "No-one has achieved such a close replica on their first try! Petyr, my King, you are a natural. Our training is already in your favour." taking her time to gaze at it fondly, she reluctantly brushed away the fog, and subsequently, the signatures. "Now, the office. Shall we?"

[important]

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

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

xxxxxCrying. I am not to do this. I will still apologise for myself and for the sake of what I am giving. His entire life had been made up of moments like these - only it had been his mother, not an assassin, not Rosalee. His mother. She was a Frenchwoman born and raised, that lived by the name Aimeé. She had a strange moral complex, but that was what had shaped Petyr and Serge to be who they were. She was kind and soft-spoken, a woman who refused to let others break her down any further, especially after Christoph's disappearance. It was his mother that Petyr had always looked to at a young age. Now, it was his reckless assassin. You are not in France any more. This is foreign grounds. You hold no friends in places such as these. Petyr sighed, looked to her for a long time before narrowing his eyes slightly. Then what was he, other than a coward? Heartless didn't describe it. Cruel, just the same. Neither of them fit the man whom had been slain not so long before now. "No. I don't know, but I can tell you... He was no coward." Confused, Petyr was confused. All he wanted was answers, and the man whom had supposedly held these lay dead in the next room. My fault. "And so what if I did, Rosie? It doesn't justify anything. It doesn't make anything right."

xxxxxHe noticed the exact moment he messed up. Oh no. Her teeth were bared, as if she were an animal and Petyr was naught but her prey. The turncoat took his own step backwards, his eyes widening slightly as his hands moved up in surrender, palms to her. Petyr flinched back at her words, giving the look as that of a caged animal. Trapped. Petyr relaxed just slightly at her apology, but his posture was still rigid. He paused, murmuring his reply: "C'est bien." It is fine. His hands dropped, and he nodded slowly, letting a faint smile grace his lips once more. "Merci, mon chéri. You flatter me so. Je t'aime aussi." When she turned away from him, Petyr frowned just slightly. Hoping he wasn't going to get stabbed in light of moments ago's anger, he rested his hand upon her shoulder. "I love you, too," he repeated, in English.

xxxxxRosalee was the master in so many arts that Petyr could never begin to hope to excel in. She was an assassin, after all: Specially trained in the Brotherhood to hold the knowledge that she possessed. Each time Rosie would assure Petyr that he had a gain on her, he would deny it because he believed that she was far better than him at everything. She knew exactly what she was doing, that was the thing! Petyr had wandered into this life aimlessly, with no purpose whatsoever. Rosalee knew her calling as an assassin. But was this Petyr's destiny? Well, perhaps not you, but me. I rely on you just as you me, and I trust you irrevocably. "Then I thank you, for allowing me to hold such power." His smile was faint, but it spoke a million unvoiced thoughts that showed that gratitude.

xxxxxI am immune to you, you are immune to me. Petyr stopped for a moment, smiling a bit as he felt the beat of her heart. She was alive, just as was the fire that burnt so brightly inside of her. Rosie, if this is fire, then I wish to be burnt. I wish not to be immune, so that I may feel the pain to know that you are real.

xxxxxPetyr smiled brightly at her enthusiasm, and gave his own nod. To bring Rosalee to France! To allow her mother to meet her, and to allow Rosalee to finally see his family, his home, his life! "Je t'en prie, de rien. You are quite welcome." When she pulled him into another hug, he noticed the difference that this embrace held compared to the last one. This one was not in her effort to hide away, to shut herself out. For us, the rulers of the kingdom of Nothing, I will do this. As your knight, as your assassin, your servant, and most trusted, I will. "As I have witnessed. You are absolutely beautiful to watch in battle, despite everything." Petyr would adore the opportunity to watch her dance just the same, but he had not yet been granted that right. He glanced to her wrist briefly and smiled, nodding in his agreement when she said it would be best not to speak on such a matter. Not here, not now. He grinned at the light tap to his nose, laughing a bit.

xxxxx"I certainly do try my best," he chuckled, touching one of the orange flowers and shaking his head once more. A knight of flowers. This had been the very first insult shot at him upon entering the guard, especially what with his personality that leant towards the aspect of emotions rather than actions. His expression fell a bit, but never once did his happiness waver. The past is the past, and it will stay behind me. Petyr watched as she dried her hair, pushing the towel atop her head. "I will be sure to do this," he told her, reaching out and wiping away one of the tracks of water that had slipped from her hair and onto her face, brushing it away.

xxxxxNever did I accuse you of being. Though, there is nothing wrong with being afraid. You are only human, Rosie. His heart went out for her, along with the sympathy that she said she didn't want from him. No matter, he would always offer it to her. "I believe I've long learnt my lesson!" he caught on to her teasing manner, and only played along. "Oh, but I have no opportunity to draw a heart in my name, whereas you do. I really quite like that embellishment of yours, it adds personality." Petyr smiled, nodding slowly at his own words. A surge of pride ran through him at her compliment, making his eyes widen just slightly, and for his smile to morph into a grin. "Perhaps you credit me far too much, but all is well, as I thank you kindly. I don't suppose the other areas of this training will be quite so easy?" he said in a joking manner, looking to the mirror one last time before she wiped the glass away of the signatures. "Let us shall," he agreed, taking her arm and unlocking the powder room door, opening it to allow her to exit.

[rogue,]

♔ ．ＲＯＳＡＬＥＥ ＤＡＧＥＮＨＡＲＴxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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

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You need not apologise for something you did not do. Petyr seemed to know exactly how to counter and successfully refute her words, and it made her believe this was not the first time he had engaged in a battle of feelings. And that left only one viable person. His mother. A mother was the one whom held sway over such issues. Rosalee began to imagine his mother, the strong Aimeé Lécuyer that he had spoken so highly of. The one who had been abandoned to deal with the fallout of Christoph's disappearance alone. "Then he was a damned fool!" She clenched her jaw. "It makes no difference," she conceded a step. "It simply shows he did care before he grew cold." her tongue passed across her teeth. "Listen when I say that his intentions were far from ill when I first knew him." Gods! Who was she to defend the man whom had ruined Petyr's life? What in the devil's name was she even thinking? "But we may never know his true reasoning. Dead men tell no tales." Loyalty was a strange thing; a thing Rosalee liked to believe was one of her defining features, even if it was slightly warped. Despite the often immoral actions on the Master Assassin's behalf, there was still a fierce sense of loyalty that she felt towards him. (Whether that was brave or stupid, was for Petyr to figure out.) Rosie owed Christoph so much more than life debt; he'd given her a home, his precious time, and even gone as far to make the Dagenhart his protégé. It made Rosie wonder if he had known her assassin family, or there was more reasoning behind his intents, since the man had never treated his other students the same as her. Perhaps Christoph had believed he'd seen something akin to himself in the young heir; the defiant flare, the survivor's streak that simply would not die. Her unwavering loyalty made her feel sick.

Rosie noticed the flash of fear, diluted with regret, in his charming eyes. The same gaze of the petrified deer when corner by the artful jaguar. It knew it was the end of the line. The assassin cracked her neck, her gaze intense as Petyr's hands raised in surrender, throwing his palms out to her. Only... the turncoat wasn't a deer, she decided, he wasn't without defence. He had training, could hold his own against Rosie. This was him, willingly baring his throat to her. If Christoph had been an almighty lion, Rosalee the golden-mottled shadow jaguar; what did that make Petyr? Was he a cunning tiger, an influential leopard, or was he the dauntless wolf? She'd long since turned her back to him, barely listening. Half of her was tempted to throw a dagger at him, one that would give him only a slight hair trim. At his unexpected touch, Rosie tensed at first, breathing a shaky sigh. After a pause, she lifted her arm across her chest to rest her own hand atop his. She could sense his still-rigid posture and murmured another apology. Gently, she squeezed his hand while he whispered the translation. And to think: I would not know you if I had not assaulted you that day. I don't regret it in the slightest. She gave a small smile.

Just what exactly had the Guard, the Templars, taught Petyr? Freedom versus Order? Had they given him an ultimate goal? Petyr had stated his punishment was to bear the weight of a turncoat, to infiltrate and destroy the Brotherhood of London due to a less then heinous crime. So, what had been his former mission? What had he been before a turncoat? A defender of London, sworn to protect its innocents? Oh, she hoped her Petyr would thrive in the Brotherhood, in this life. Could he cope with this life? The life of a righteous killer? There were too few answers for too many questions. Will you fight to stay? Rosie raised him up because she so vehemently didn't wish to stand alone, even if she did not show it. Petyr was fierce, strong and committed, but was she selfish for holding him at her side? But his words! It held oceans of emotion, ones that spilt into the melody of his accented voice. And his smile! Her heart trembled, blood pounded in her ears at the sight. "You are far more valuable to me than you realise."

Rosalee gazed up at at her King of Nothing with an endearing grin, her blood drumming steadily. You do not wish to be burnt, my dear Petyr. It tears you apart like none other, and it lingers, the pains seeps past the barrier of your skin. Then she titled her head. I wish for my fire to heal you, to prickle your skin like lightning, but not to hurt you.

The endless possibilities infused the atmosphere, leaving the assassin feeling giddy and light-headed. Petyr's grin was intoxicating. "You must tell me a story on our journey away from here," Rosie insisted, gripping onto his arms to quell the shaking muscles of hers. France, France! Petyr's homeland, his kingdom, and the country of his mother-tongue! How she could not wait to see his world and share in what moulded the turncoat. Long live the King and Queen of Nothing. May the gods shine upon us, and may the monsters tremble when we are near. "Beautiful and deadly, I hope?" she teased, dropping her head to hide a smile at his compliment. "I wish to see your skills put to the test. I may even teach you some rather fanciful acrobatics," Maybe, just maybe, Rosalee would grant him the right to a dance soon enough. Her own face crinkled upwards with laughter to his reaction at being tapped on the nose.

"Orange is your colour, my King! Very handsome, if I do say so myself," she glanced at his gold-embroidered jacket as he begun to reminisce about past events, memories from what seemed like a lifetime ago. We move forwards together, and only look behind our shoulders in order to learn. "It suits your attire." Rosie only grinned at him as he freed the droplet of water from her face.

A pang ripped apart her heart; it felt as though shards of glass had stabbed into her sides and embedded themselves among her ribcage. It hurt, gods did sympathy physically hurt. Or was it empathy? The assassin had no clue. Perhaps it was the vulnerability that gave way to a known weakness that made her dislike it; for Christoph always stated that: 'A weakness shown is a weakness exploited.' Though, Petyr offered it, always, and it was this defiance in him she loved so. "Je t'en prie, a few more tries and you will have forgery mastered! Just, do not go stealing my safe deposit, because I will steal yours in retaliation." she couldn't help but add a sarcastic drawl to her joke, winking audaciously at him. "Just you wait, my dear Petyr! We will see how you perform in combat and on the balance beams." she laughed, a flush creeping upwards from her neck at his mention of the heart. It was then the assassin thought back to his earlier claim. I wish to be burnt. I wish not to be immune, so that I may feel the pain to know that you are real. Rosie turned to face him. I will not hurt you, but I can assure you that I am very much real. She brushed her hand lightly across the side of his cheek, and captured his lips in a kiss.

[important]

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

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

xxxxxSo be it, then. His head raised a bit, as if he was nodding in something like agreeance. I play by your rules, the rules of an assassin. For, that is what I am to become. Petyr’s eyes seemed to flash as she continued to speak, painting his father in a lighter light than before. ”Even the kindest man can find themselves lost,” he commented. And, the dual meaning behind those words: Do not defend a man with no honour, for he cannot even defend himself at that point. ”I understand that my father helped you in more ways than anyone else ever had, but in the end…” he trailed off, letting a puff of air escape through his mouth, ”what is it worth?” This is the game that I am to play, now. This game, this carefully constructed dance- I am now to take part in it and pray that Death doesn’t take my name down. Petyr closed his eyes for a moment, drawing air in slowly. When Petyr was younger, oft times people on the streets would stop Christoph and he from walking, and they would go on about how alike the two looked. And since his father had been so young upon Petyr’s birth, when he had grown older people would ask if the two were siblings. Christoph would laugh every time and rest his hand upon Petyr’s head, ruffling his hair and answering with a ‘no’, correcting them to say that he was his son. Oh, but when he was younger, Petyr had wanted nothing more than for that to be true! His father was one of his closest friends, one of his wisest teachers. And all of that shattered, fell away, the moment he disappeared. What was Christoph to Rosalee? A father? A mentor, a teacher? Someone to fear, or someone to love?

xxxxxPetyr had winced when he heard her neck crack as it turned to the side, but his eyes kept trained on hers. He kept careful watch of her even afterwards, but eventually dropped his eyes away. When growing up, training with his father, his mother would often compare the mock battles between Christoph and Petyr like watching a lion and a hawk fight. Christoph was fierce, strong, and certain. Petyr had always taken his time to calculate before lunging, but when he did decide to strike, his hits were well-timed and powerful. That was who he was- Not a beast, but rather, a bird. Wise, quiet. Watching from above to assess situations before diving in. The turncoat barely flinched when she tensed up, watching her hands carefully. Not that he believed she would strike against him, but it was simply his instinct. Watch their hands. Make sure you give them no opportunity to make a move against you. Petyr took a half step towards her, smiling a little when her hand rested atop his. Even so, I am forever at your side. Be it that it may, I do not regret that day for a single moment. I am glad to have made such a mistake enough to catch your attention, my assassin.

xxxxxIt was a misdemeanour- No felony, nothing vicious or horrid. (Even so, he could never find himself committing a worse crime than he had today. Now that was a felony. What he had done was nothing in comparison to this.) But that wasn’t relevant, what he had done. What mattered was what he was doing now, here with the assassin whom had fallen from the sky to land atop him. (Which was the day his entire life changed, quite literally.) Until the end of my days. I have agreed to follow you into hell if I must. My loyalty does not shake, it does not move, for anything. At her words, he paused for a long moment, and smiled just slightly. Valuable. ”And you me,” he murmured. ”You are the one thing I have to look forward to in the future, Rosie. You mean everything to me, and I wish not to lose that.” His head dipped slightly, and he smiled.

xxxxxPerhaps, and I do not doubt this, nor you. If I am to hurt at all, I wish for the only one to deliver that pain to be you, for I trust you to hold the flames upon my skin, the blade to my throat, the poison to my lips. Petyr looked to her, smiled gently. I trust you not to let those flames burn me, to let the blade cut me, or to let the poison in.

xxxxxHe grinned at her enthusiasm, finding her excitement contagious. To return home, that was what he had been avoiding this entire time, had it not been? Yet, what with Rosie’s desire to go to a foreign land, he found himself wishing to go back. What would be the same? What would have changed? Petyr thought back on his brother, who would be twenty three now, whereas Petyr was twenty six. Would Serge still be the same as he was before Petyr left for England? Would he have changed for the better or for the worse? Oh, please, still be the same gentleman that you were when I left. Knowing his brother, he would probably take to Rosalee fairly quickly. ”I certainly will,” Petyr promised her. And he would hold to it, too. He was excited to see how she might react to seeing the land. Unlike England, it wasn’t quite so urban and industrialised. Most people still worked the lands in the field of farming and agriculture, still kept livestock and took things a bit slower. At least, that’s how it had been. Now, who knew? ”Quite. Deadly, even more so. It is quite a sight, and very impressive.” Petyr smiled to her, brushing his hand over her arm lightly. ”Oh, I would quite enjoy that. Thank you for giving me such an opportunity… Though, I’m sure that I can’t do it quite as well as you,” he replied.

xxxxxHe’d always adored the colour orange: A bright colour, one that reflected happiness, ambition, good fortune, and hope. ”I thank you once more. Might I ask as to what your favourite colour might be?” It was high time he rose the question, any ways. Out of pure curiosity, if for nothing else. To look back is to learn, to move forward is to live.

xxxxxShe would tell him on a number of occasions to not offer her sympathy, to show empathy for her or what she had gone through. No pity. However, Petyr had gone on this several times and done so any ways. Whether this was stubbornness or stupidity, he had naught an idea. One of them, perhaps the latter more so, was true. ”I will certainly keep this in mind, then! I am no master in the art of theft, however, I must say. Nor do I look to be.” Petyr smiled slightly, shrugging a bit to show his indifference. At her wink, he grinned, shaking his head with a laugh. ”Oh, the balance beams? Never was I able to excel with grace, but I will try! Petyr watched the flush that tinted her skin, and he smiled. I will not hurt you, but I can assure you that I am very much real. He blinked twice, stuck on attempting to decode her words. When her hand touched his cheek, he looked to her, meeting her eyes. Petyr’s breath stole from his lungs when her lips met his, but he reciprocated; gently pulling her closer to him and allowing his eyes to shut briefly, his heart racing.