Poison Paradise (R Rated)

Stage One Obsessions.

Stage One Obsessions. 

The castle’s bed chambers were about the size of an average two story house. The corridors twisted and turned, like the veins of a heart until they became thinner. I’d been living behind enemy walls for about a month, and already they were beginning to suspect  that someone was at play for the large amount of deaths within the castle. 

My mission was simple -- play, have fun work hard, assassinate the king and don’t get caught. Through trails and trails, I realized that the King didn’t even know I would exist until I became a higher rank --- but I didn’t have time for that shit. I needed to do this now. 

So I devised a simple, but brilliant plan to get noticed. To become what he wanted most, first, I needed to build my strength. Gain it through others, then I needed to get where I was now. 

Today. 

At the castle’s bedchambers, almost squeezing my way through the tight breezy hallways to the large chambers, leather clad to my neck, around it hung a pentagram, which hung low against my breastbone, filling me to the core with cold as I shuffled through the corridor. My large, long boots occasionally getting loudly smacking against the ground. 

“Who goes there?” A guard’s high pitched shrill said, stepping before the door, a scythe hung over his shoulder, glittering silver blade dipping behind his back. The staff he held with an iron grip as he pounded his large boots forwards, coming into contact with my foot in an instant. Despite feeling nothing more then the slight release of pressure within my shoe, I gasped and held the platter forwards. 

A mere servant girl was ordered to take the King his daily meals, but they weren’t just known for delivering meals. Times I’ve heard the King screaming and cursing through the walls, loud banging and the girl returning back to the kitchen babbling about how big his ‘sword’ was, looking hardly as if she could walk forwards for much longer. 

“Emile,” I said hastily, thrusting the platter forwards further, until he grabbed it with a gloved hand, “I’m here to bring the Lord his food, sir.” 

Beneath the helmet which overtook most of the guard’s face, I could see the faint traces of a smile. Telling me I was in for more then just a food delivering, which I was perfectly fine with. Considering this would be it, my mission’s completion. The most genius assassination anyone has ever seen within the modern world. 

The guard handed me the platter, stepped aside and pushed a large wooden door open, gesturing an arm forwards as if an invitation over the threshold. I stepped forwards, and the door shut abruptly behind me. Closing with a gust of wind which made my hair flap about helplessly. 

King Hunter was a tall man, muscular and broad shouldered, despite his dark handsome features, his hair was blond and askew atop his head, giving him a disheveled angel’s look. I disliked him instantly. 

“Name?” He demanded, hardly giving me time to appraise the red and royal decor before he took the platter from my hands and pushed me towards the large double bed in the middle of the room. 

“Emile, m’Lord.” 

“Call me Hunter,” his eyes were glittering as he sat me on the edge of the bed, there wasn’t anything normal there. The human morality I saw within the eyes of my other victims wasn’t present in his, they were cold -- broken. I refused to let this concede with me.