A Touch of Thorns

Chapter 8- Cedric

"I may be drunk, miss, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly"

Sir Winston Churchill

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I watched as Vivienne let her hair cascade down her back, the strands falling in gentle waves that framed her face in a halo of golden light. She perched herself on the edge of my oak desk, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was disrupting my work. The study was sparsely furnished, with only a solitary couch offering any semblance of comfort, yet she chose to occupy the one place where I needed to focus.

"Why aren't you working, Princess Vivienne? And get off my desk. You're messing up my paperwork," I admonished, my irritation palpable. It was a half-truth; her presence was indeed proving to be a distraction, but there was also a part of me that simply resented her carefree attitude in the wake of my recent loss.

"Well, I am a princess from another country. It wouldn't look too good to see a foreigner delegating internal affairs," she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Since when did you care about reputation?" I countered, taken aback by her audacity. It wasn't the first time she had disregarded the importance of propriety, but her blatant disregard still managed to irk me.

"I don't care for yours, but I do care for your father's," she retorted, her words laced with a daring smile that only served to stoke the flames of our ongoing rivalry. It was clear that she enjoyed pushing my buttons, relishing in the opportunity to challenge me at every turn. "Whatever, I'm going to sleep" She hopped off the desk

As Princess Vivienne sauntered over to the couch and stretched out, closing her eyes, a heavy silence settled over the room. Her nonchalant demeanor only served to deepen the rift between us, reminding me of the lingering tension that had plagued our relationship for far too long.

I couldn't help but feel a pang of regret as I watched her, her graceful form illuminated by the soft glow of the lamplight. It was moments like these that made me wish we could simply erase the past and start anew, but I knew that was nothing more than wishful thinking.

The memory of what had transpired between us still lingered like a shadow, casting a pall over our interactions. I saw it in the way she hesitated to meet my gaze, the underlying resentment that colored her every word. It was clear that she didn't trust me, and no amount of feigned indifference could disguise the truth.

The memories flooded back, a bittersweet reminder of what once was. Vivienne and I, inseparable in our youth, had shared a bond that transcended mere friendship. We were each other's confidants, allies in a world that often seemed intent on tearing us apart.

I couldn't help but let out a sad laugh as I reminisced about those days. How different things were now, how much we had both changed. Once, our disagreements were fleeting, easily resolved with a few words and a shared laugh. But now, the chasm between us felt insurmountable, the wounds too deep to heal.

Vivienne had always had a way of finding me in the study, her presence a welcome distraction from the weight of my responsibilities. No matter how busy I was, I would always make time for her, setting aside my duties in favor of our conversations. It was a ritual, a moment of respite in the chaos of our lives.

But now, as I returned to the present, I was painfully aware of the emptiness that surrounded me. The study felt cavernous and cold, devoid of the warmth that Vivienne's presence had once brought. I shook my head, banishing the memories to the recesses of my mind. Dwelling on the past would only serve to reopen old wounds, and I had enough scars to last a lifetime.

And yet, as I turned back to my desk, a part of me couldn't help but wonder if there would ever come a day when we could bridge the divide that had grown between us. If there was still a chance for us to find our way back to each other, despite the obstacles that stood in our path. Only time would tell.

But she wasn't the same person and neither was I. 

Kill her 

As the image of Vivienne lying there, unsuspecting, flooded my mind, a surge of conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm me. The desire to kill her, to rid myself of the pain and betrayal she had inflicted, burned like a raging fire within me. It would be so easy, so satisfying, to end her existence and be done with it. My hand instinctively went to the hilt of the dagger concealed beneath my cloak, the cold metal a familiar comfort against my skin.

But beneath that primal urge lurked another, more insidious thought—a desire for revenge. I was an assassin, trained to deal death with ruthless efficiency, and the thought of Vivienne paying the ultimate price for her transgressions sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

She needed to pay, to suffer for the havoc she had wreaked upon my life. She needed to understand the depth of my anger, the agony of my heartache. And yet, as much as I yearned to make her beg for mercy, to watch her crumble beneath the weight of her own guilt, I couldn't shake the gnawing doubt that lingered in the depths of my soul.

Was this truly justice, or was it merely an act of vengeance masquerading as righteousness? Was I any better than her, succumbing to the same darkness that had consumed her?

And if, in the end, she begged for mercy, if she begged for death, then so be it. But I would not be the one to deliver the final blow. For in the end, I am a coward. 

"Princess" I quietly groaned "No one has ever made a mission this hard" I smirked evilly. 

"No one," I whispered to the empty room, my voice a low, ominous murmur that hung in the air like a dark omen. For in that moment, I knew that I was waiting for the perfect time. And when the time came, I would emerge victorious, no matter the cost.

I noticed a letter tucked away. 

Hey Thorn!

It's your buddy here! I heard you are taking a while to complete this job. Now, about you know... I know she's more than just a target to you. You have some sort of past I don't really care about. But let's keep the sentimentality in check. We're not in the business of heart-to-hearts, we're in the business of, well, taking hearts out. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Now, I know what you're thinking: "But I'm a prince! I don't need the money!" And you're absolutely right! But think of it as a favor to your old man from the syndicate. 

Maybe she broke your heart, stole your favorite sword, or beat you at a game of chess. Nobody cares, so suck it up. Anyways I heard they have good pastries in Aveloria. Bring me some back please

Lord
Leader of The Syndicate LLC

Hello guys if you are reading this after 4/08/24, I am not able to update the chapters. Please be patient and know I will have a lot ready for the next update. (FYI the chapters following these are completely different to this story line!)