enstasis: origin, beginning; an obstruction
—
DIANA is in the mood to kill today.
She supposes she'd just woken up on the wrong side of the bed — even assassins had their bad days, right? Or maybe it had been because the line had been so long at Accio Coffee! that she hadn't even been able to snag her favourite cup of jasmine green tea. She did, however, get her toes all stomped over, and she's fairly certain that one of her nails broke right down the center. Whatever it was, she'd been snarky all morning, snapping at almost anyone who tried to talk to her at work.
But now —
Her sharp gaze sweeps over the crowd of people mingling in the airy ballroom. There have to be at least a hundred Ladies and Sirs here, all high-end and posh, sipping on champagnes and whiskeys more expensive than Diana's cramped little studio apartment, and making whatever conversation rich people make. It makes Diana sick, even as she knows they are her only ticket to the money she chases. Without it, her family will suffer.
There.
Her eyes catch on the short, squat man standing by one of the snack tables, talking to a group of three who all looked immersed in some superficial exchange. He seems like the kind that compensates for his very apparent lack in height and stature with over dramatic hand gestures. She dislikes him almost immediately — she can practically smell the phoniness coming off of him. He just looks like a charlatan, the kind of man that's only here to convince himself that he's as good as the prim, proper, and stiff-lipped Purebloods that stride these marble floors like they own them (which, of course, they do).
She knows his name, of course. Cadmonius Hearst. She doesn't even want to say it. Somehow, she just knows it will taste slimy on her tongue. Just like how it had sounded rolling off Phoenix's lips earlier that month. Diana silently curses herself. It doesn't matter how his name sounds. All she has to do is eliminate him. Quick and easy. An in and out job. It's what Phoenix has asked of her.
And it does help that there is the prize money of five-thousand Galleons on his head.
Honestly, after a long day like this — in which her other boss absolutely humiliated her during a board meeting for something that wasn't even her fault — Diana can't think of a better way to relieve stress than to watch the life drain out of the greedy eyes of some half-dicked mountebank that probably owes some client half a million Galleons. Maybe, if she's lucky, she'll even get to hear him beg for her to spare his pathetic, insignificant life, swear that he'll stop being a money-grubbing arsehole and start donating to fucking charity, before she kills him. She reckons it'll be amusing to watch him die.
Cadmonius moves from his group of three with a small bow and heads for the staircase that splits into two on the other side of the hall. Diana decides it's time to move. She's skilled at staying hidden, even in the long black dress that grazes the floor as she walks. She's long since realised that staying inconspicuous is much less about physical locations and more about keeping her head down.
Cadmonius stops to greet another High Society member and Diana comes to a stop, smoothly, reaching over to pluck a champagne flute from the tray of a passing server. It fizzes on her tongue as she feigns a look around the ballroom, trying to find a specific figure that she prays to every single magical entity in the entire Wizarding World isn't here. Her trained senses pick up nothing and she takes another sip of champagne. At least she won't have to deal with him tonight.
Cadmonius is on the move again, climbing the stairs and taking the left section when they branch. She waits till he's out of sight and then throws back the champagne, relishing in the fizz before she follows. The slit in her dress parts around one long, tan brown leg as she steps onto the first step, the dagger sheathed to her thigh pleasantly familiar. She knows she'll need to use it very soon.
"What's a gorgeous woman like you doing on your own over here?"
The voice is deep and distinctly male. Diana sighs inwardly and turns to face her suitor. He's tall and lean with jet-black hair and eyes that twinkle in the lights of the chandelier. Attractive, she thinks, but wholly not my type.
"Just heading for the restroom." She plasters a smile on her face, well-aware of the timer ticking in the back of her mind every second Cadmonius is out of her reach. "Please, don't let me disturb your evening."
"On the contrary," he muses with a slight smile, bowing at the waist and holding a hand out to her. "Alexander Cabot."
Diana forces herself not to glance at the top of the staircase where it curves into the hallway Cadmonius disappeared into and extends her hand, placing it delicately in Alexander's. His lips are a tentative brush across her knuckles. "Nyx."
He raises an eyebrow, lifting his gaze to meet hers, still bowed, one arm behind his back. "Just Nyx?"
She gives him a disarming smile. "Just Nyx."
"What a wonderful name."
He straightens and moves as if to turn and drop her hand, but then his eyes catch on it, and Diana feels his grip tighten. Instinctually, she herself tenses, her other hand slowly finding the slit in her dress to pull her dagger out at any given notice, but all he does is bring her hand up closer to his face and tilt his head at it curiously. She frowns, lips twitching, when Alexander's thumb brushes over his knuckles.
"Beautiful ring," he murmurs, glimmering eyes admiring the simple black bland, a thin golden stripe running through the center, before finding their way up to her face.
"Thank you," Diana says stiffly, the warning alarm in her head flaring up as she pulls her hand out of his grasp stiffly yet still politely, sparing him a smile. "I'm possessive over it. It holds great worth."
"I could imagine..." he murmurs, smiling softly. "I don't mean to hold you too long. Will you do me the honour of sparing me a dance? After you get back from the restroom, that is."
Diana glances over his face. "It would be my pleasure."
His smile is charming. "Then I eagerly await your return."
He backs away from her, never turning his back on her until the crowd has swallowed him up. Diana doesn't waste a heartbeat and makes her way up the staircase as fast as she can without drawing attention.
The corridor Cadmonius had vanished into is eerily quiet compared to the lively ballroom below. She can still hear the muffled music of the orchestra as she moves forward, ignoring the portraits on the walls. It's darker in here and even the colours are less vibrant — the walls are an ugly shade of brown, the small decorative pieces along them dark green, The dagger feels heavier on her thigh and she moves one hand to brush her fingers over it, something she always does when her stomach curls in a way she's learned means trouble is ahead.
The floorboards creak somewhere down the hallway and she holds her breath and steps carefully so she doesn't make a sound. Five-thousand Galleons. That's what's at stake right now. It is one of the highest bids Phoenix has ever given her — and Diana knows there's no one else who would be more capable than her for the job. She's one of the best assassins in the business, and her boss is well-aware of that.
The light shifts and she's suddenly acutely aware of someone standing ahead of her. By the height and build, she can tell it's Cadmonius, fumbling with the lock of a door she knows opens up to a cramped staircase that leads down to the servant's quarters. Ah, of course. Cadmonius enjoys fucking the servant girls.
But he's caught off-guard right now, jamming the key into the lock and fighting with it to try to get it to turn, muttering to himself under his breath. Diana thinks this is as good of an opportunity as any and slips the dagger from its sheath on her thigh.
She can't Avada him — all witches and wizards have to submit their wands for checking to the Ministry every month, and Unforgivables are strictly banned. If she, a Ministry worker, is found doling out Killing Curses once or twice every month, it won't be ideal — but she finds the dagger to be much more satisfying, anyway. With the ghost of a smile on her red lips, she tightens her grip around it, well-accustomed to the weight and feel of it, and plants her feet onto the ground, a few feet behind him.
"Stupid —" Cadmonius muttered, jamming the key into the lock again, "— fucking —" He twists it, harshly, small hands jerky, "— lock."
Diana raises the dagger. Five-thousand Galleons. That's what she's just earned.
It all happens so fast. Even her assassin instincts don't pick it up until it happens. She'll curse herself for it, of course, but there's no changing it. One moment her dagger is lifted, about to come down straight into the back of Cadmonius's neck, where she knows it will hit his brain stem and kill him instantly, and then the next, there's a strong arm belting around her waist and yanking her back.
The motion alerts Cadmonius and he's whirling around in an instant, eyes wide, face red, but Diana can't see the rest of his reaction, her mind zeroing in on the presence behind her. Definitely male, based on the broad shoulders, tall — six feet? — fit, since she can feel his muscles on her back, and wearing a distinct cologne. One that triggers some hidden memory in the back of her mind. Her brain filters through the options of who it could be even as it decides what to do next.
She only has a few seconds. She can either try to stab her captor or aim for Cadmonius, who is currently backing away, chest heaving, hands up in surrender. On instinct, she chooses the second and in a flash, she's getting ready to throw her dagger.
But a large, calloused palm wraps around her wrist and his grip is so tight she can feel the pressure on the delicate bones in her wrist. "Now, now, princess," murmurs a low voice in her ear, lips brushing the shell of it. "Didn't anyone teach you any manners?"
Her blood runs cold as her brain finally pushes that last piece into place. Tall, broad, male with a scent of..? What is that?
Of course.
She is going to kill Phoenix.
Muscle memory kicks into action and the blade is spinning in her grip until it faces backward. She thrusts her hand back, ripping it free of his grasp and aiming for his stomach behind her, but he's faster. Suddenly, she's shoved back against the wall, the dagger still in her grip.
Her cheek collides with the rough wall as he holds her against it, pinning one arm to the wall right above her head and the other arm to her back, twisting it at a painful angle and holding it with a grip that'll leave bruises. He's pressed up uncomfortably close, his hips flush against her arse, and everything about him consumes her. She can feel him and smell him and see his tall frame out of the corner of her eye and her heart is pounding fast against her ribs.
"I hate to keep running into you like this," his voice sounds like honey dripping off his tongue, "but you have to understand I don't share what's mine." His mouth is at her ear again, hot and searing. "And those five-thousand Galleons? Mine."
Diana grits her teeth as he pushes her against the wall even harder, her cheekbone aching from where it's pressed against the rough rock. "Over my dead body, Hades."
He chuckles, but it's low and rough, making shivers crawl down her spine. "Darling, I'm sure you know by now that that can be arranged."
Diana has already wasted too much time getting her bearings. She clenches her jaw in preparation and in the next second, she's slamming her head back with all her force. Hades jerks back as the back of her head collides with his face, and she uses the distraction to twist enough to bring her knee up into his crotch. The contact makes him stumble backward with a sharp exhale ripping from his lips and she's turned to face him and thrusting the dagger forward without so much as a second thought.
Hades dodges out of the way, a slight wince still painted on his striking features while he straightens up. Diana lashes her arm out towards him once more, but he grabs her arms and twists them behind her back, pulling her up against her chest. She struggles against his grip, feeling his hand snaking down her arm to reach her dagger, and then, knowing very well that the heels she opted for tonight aren't very blunt, she stomps down on her foot as hard as she can.
He hisses and lets go of her, stepping back while she turns around to face him once more, lunging towards him with her dagger aimed for his neck.
Hades is expecting it though, and despite his pain, twists out of the way, snatching her wrist and twisting it so violently, she feels bones crack. With a stifled cry, the dagger falls from her hand and straight into his. He's shoving her back against the wall again, both hands captured in one of his stretched high above her head. He doesn't seem to care that he's pressing on broken bones as he pins them to the wall. His other hand brings up her very own dagger and her pulse is so loud, she can barely hear both their heavy breaths.
"Pretty," he muses, not visibly bothered by what had just occurred. His eyes are examining the dagger, the elegant curve of it and the silver handle, and Diana struggles against his tight grip, the muscles in her back and shoulders aching as well as her wrist that he still has captured in his hand. "Would you like me to use it on you?"
Her breath catches in her throat and she tries to lift her knee to get him in the crotch again, only for him to move closer, slotting one of his muscled thighs in between her legs so she can't even try to move them again. Clicking his tongue at her, he finally raises his eyes to meet hers. They're blue-grey and enthralling, shifting colours in the dim light.
"Come now, princess. I need that for later."
She doesn't realise what he means until a few seconds later. "Prick," she spits at him, wishing beyond anything that she could knee him right between his legs. "You let him get away."
"Please, didn't you see that oaf? He's probably already tired himself out. I'm sure I'll find him panting and heaving at the end of the hallway."
Diana growls, and in response, he squeezes her wrists above her. She can barely contain the gasp of pain as white-hot fire shoots up her fractured hand. "Get off me, you fucking —"
"Keep that attitude in check, or I'll fuck it out of you, Nyx."
Her breath gusts out across his face, lip curling in disgust. "You'd do me a favour by killing me now, then."
Hades hums low in his throat and she sucks in a sharp breath as he presses her dagger to her throat, gliding the blade along its hollow. "Are you sure about that?" he taunts, locks of chestnut brown hair falling forward onto his forehead as he leans closer. The dagger travels across her collarbone and her lungs struggle for oxygen. "I doubt you'd be very thrilled with me."
She tries once again to yank her wrists out of his grip but fails as the dagger drags lower, to the low neckline of her inky dress. "I'm going to kill you." It's a feral hiss at him, but there's a wicked curve to his lips that infuriates her almost as much as it makes her stomach coil. "I swear on it, Hades —"
"I liked you a lot better when you weren't speaking." His eyes follow the knife as it grazes over the swell of her breasts and then digs in, drawing blood to the surface.
It stings only for a split second — he didn't put enough pressure for anything other than a thin line of blood to appear — but she still gasps, the knot low in her abdomen constricting. He doesn't look up at her even once, his eyes fixed on the blood he's drawn on the soft skin above the neckline of her dress and the way a drop of it trickles down between her cleavage. Then there's a thud as the dagger sinks into the space of the wall next to her head. She barely has time to register how close it is to her face before his head dips and mouth presses full against the cut he made. She gasps involuntarily and strains against his grip as his tongue brushes over the minor cut, soft hair brushing against her chest.
She recognises the feeling that spreads through every nerve fiber in her body and hates that it would betray her this way. But with Hades' head buried against her chest, sucking on a cut he made himself, she can barely hold her body accountable because desire is flaring to life in her core and she suddenly needs to touch him.
Her hands move as if to lower themselves to his head of thick brown hair, but the infuriating little muppet catches the movement and tightens his grip on her wrists. She swears she can feel him smirk against her skin when she gasps softly at the shooting pain.
"He's getting —" Diana cuts herself off with a small noise, muffled by her teeth latching around her lips, when his tongue drags directly over the superficial cut, her back arching to shove her chest into his face and her toes curling in their heels. Her face tightens slightly, as if to will herself to hate this experience and truly desire for him to get off of her, but it does nothing to quell the unfurling tendrils of desire slowly but surely taking over her entire body. "Fuck. He's getting away, you — you maggot."
"You're getting creative with your insults, princess," he exhales against her skin, tilting his head up so that his piercing grey eyes can find her dark brown ones, glinting in both mischief and malice. He lifts his head up just enough for Diana to see the way her blood tints his lips, making them redder and brighter than they already are. "Don't think you've called me that one before."
"Fuck, I'll call you a lot worse if —"
Hades's thumb presses down on broken bone, and Diana makes a strangled noise, throwing her head back so it knocks against the wall lightly. Her chest heaves with her greedy breaths, throat bobbing with her thick swallows, and her hips lift off the wall slightly, his thigh still parting hers. His leg then lifts slightly, the slit of her dress falling over the sides of both legs and riding up, and then his thigh is brushing against her between her legs.
Diana clamps her lips together and makes a small, muffled noise, refusing to allow herself to react much beyond that. She forces herself to keep her eyes open despite how much they want to roll shut in pleasure, the dark brown in them hardening as she draws blood from how hard she's biting down on her inner lip. Her hands clench into fists despite the way it makes her wrist sear up in pain.
He gives her chest one last suck, lips gracing the cut he placed there himself, tongue lapping up the last few trickles of blood that escape down her cleavage and blend into the edges of her neckline. Diana glances down briefly, eyebrows twitching when she sees blood smeared over her chest, and then her eyes catch on his blood-stained lips. He then straightens slightly so his lips are no longer greedily kissing and biting over the cut but now hover over hers, his leg lifting higher to give more friction against her underwear. Her body betrays her one more time, the pure desire in her gut showing itself through a soft yelp while his strong thigh grinds itself up against her.
"Hade — Hades," she huffs, wrists twisting in his grip, her eyes threatening to shut from the sheer intensity of his gaze boring into her. She swallows thickly, maintaining a firm look, furrowing her eyebrows and forcing herself to inhale and exhale deeply through her nose. This is not affecting me, this is not affecting me, this is not affecting me... "The target — Cadmonius — he —"
"Can wait, can't he?" Hades's bloodstained lips murmur, his tongue slowly licking them before he leans in closer to her ear. "This might come as a surprise, princess —" he whispers huskily, his knee abruptly rising to press against Diana's soaking lace underwear, eliciting a muffled grunt from her, "— but I prefer women stuttering my name and not those of other men when I pleasure them."
"I don't want you to —" Diana interrupts herself with a hiss when his hand tightens on her wrist. "Fuck. I don't want you to pleasure me," she whispers sharply as his thigh continues grinding up against her, rubbing perfectly against her most sensitive pit from over the lace.
"No? That's why you're rubbing your hips right back down, isn't it?"
Diana's tan face flushes with humiliation at his words. She hadn't realized that she was in fact allowing her hips to writhe and push back down on his leg for further pleasure, but as soon as she does realize, she stops moving, her leg instead jerking to try for his crotch again, maybe have him topple over onto the floor in pain this time, but his free hand grabs her thigh before she can do it.
"Fuck you," she groans out of not pleasure but dismay — that's at least what she tells herself. "I spent a month profiling that motherfucker, and you let him — you let him get away!"
"That's where you're wrong, darling," Hades nips on her earlobe while his leg continues against her, "you let him get away the moment you let yourself get distracted. A month? Really? Phoenix only gave me his case a week ago, and here we are at the same time."
"Well, that's because I'm thorough," Diana mutters, her eyes fluttering shut while her body trembles with heat, "and you... you're a stupid, careless little — fuck."
"It must hurt knowing you want to fuck someone who constantly beats you at your job."
"I don't want to fuck you!"
Hades's hand slides up her thigh, makes her jolt slightly from how it dips between both of them, and then it smoothly slips into her lace panties. His fingers quickly find the source of her heat and greedily dip the tips of them into the lake of her arousal. They slide out just as quickly, and he holds his fingers up near her face — which sports an indifferent expression, though her mind is still reeling — to show the way they glisten with proof of her reaction.
"No?" he cocks his head, and when Diana opens her mouth to add more, he shoves his fingers slick with her arousal into her mouth, making her moan in surprise. He smirks when her tongue brushes against his fingers, automatically moving to taste herself. "Are you telling me that you're this wet for our friend Cadmonius, not me?"
Diana squeezes her eyes tightly shut, her mind spinning. A small part of it basks in the way his leg feels rubbing against her, but the vast majority is trying to figure out the best way to let herself out of this particularly tricky situation, especially when his hand is pinning both her wrists, one of which is broken, to the wall.
"Fuck," she groans when his leg jerks up harshly, her chest heaving and her tense body unspooling while his blood-tinged lips nip against her jawline.
It pains Diana to do this, to employ the weapon she is about to use, because it might just be the most humiliating thing she'll ever have to do in her line of work, and it will definitely inflate Hades's already overly large ego to three times its size, but she is a very intelligent woman. She knows what losses to take in order to reach an ultimate win, so pushing her already bruised ego aside, she employs the weapon — Diana throws her head back and whimpers.
"You win," she moans, breasts heaving with her greedy breaths, "fuck, you win. Just — fuck me, take me, please."
It works like a charm.
Hades stiffens and falters, his leg dropping slightly, his breath hitching near her ear, and, most importantly, his hand loosening on her wrists. Diana doesn't waste even a second of the time gifted to her — using the strength surging through her in the form of adrenaline, she wrenches her wrists out of his grasp, takes advantage of how he's momentarily surprised to reel her arm back and jam her elbow right into the side of his neck.
It's playing dirty, yes, but since when is an assassin particularly chivalrous in love and war?
Hades hisses, stumbling backwards with his hand on the side of her neck. Diana uses this moment to turn around, grab the hilt of her dagger, and wrench it out of the wall with one swift motion that forces her hand back so powerfully, it knicks the dark-haired grey-eyed man behind him across his cheekbone and the bridge of his nose.
She turns to look at him, panting softly and grinning when she sees his hand fly up to his face and blood drip down his cheek, and then she's darting away at a speed very admirable for a girl in heels. She can hear Hades groaning and following her at a much more languid, casual speed, but she ignores him as she turns the corner, faced with a fork in her path and the realization that she has to decide whether she thinks Cadmonius turned left or right, and —
And then she sees the stupid little charlatan slumped up against the wall of the hallway, his head limp on his shoulder and white foam dribbling from his mouth.
"I got my hands on his drink, you see."
Diana stiffens when she hears the voice of her sworn enemy from behind her, turning her head just slightly over her shoulder while rage boils up her body. Her hands clench into fists, dagger trembling in her angry clutch.
"I thought I might just play around with you first. How's that for 'careless?'"
She glowers at the pretentious lining of his otherwise raspy voice, her dark eyes frozen on the way foam continues dripping from the pudgy, now dead man's mouth. That was supposed to be her kill, her five-thousand Galleons, and now that money will be going to Hades's pockets, probably to fuel his nightly trips to strip-clubs or whatever the hell absolutely bellends like him do, rather than to her pockets to pay for her sister's hospital bills.
Her shoulders drop.
"You took the easy way out," she says simply, and then she's striding over to kneel beside Cadmonius's limp body, pushing her dagger back away in the sheath strapped to her thigh. Her hand goes up to the side of his throat, feeling for a pulse, but her fingers are met by hollow nothingness.
"Oh? Please, enlighten me."
"Well, you were too much of a coward to show your face," Diana snaps bitterly, standing back up straight and tugging at her black dress, wincing when she sees the smeared blood still covering her chest. Fishing for her wand, she says, "Even the worst criminal deserves at least to see the face of their killer."
Hades laughs dryly, the noise completely devoid of any amusement. "Yeah? You say that as if either of us are even wearing our actual faces right now."
"You know what I mean."
"He raped a girl."
Diana snaps her head over to look at Hades with furrowed eyebrows and shocked eyes right as she raises her wand to cast a spell to clean her skin off. He looks grave, standing at the corner of the hallway with dim lighting cast over his head. His eyes are dark and almost morbid, brown hair ruffled from their interaction, and cheek dripping with blood from the cut she inflicted on him.
"No, he wasn't," she scowls deeply. "I know everything there is to know about him, even his blood pressure from a routine check-up when he was twelve. If he ever went to prison for rape, or was involved in anything of the sort, or was even accused of it in the past, I'd know. He —"
"Why do you think anyone wanted him dead?" Hades snorts, his hand lifting to push his dark brown hair out of his face and then brush his palm against the blood on his face, smearing it over his jaw while his pink lips settle into a firm line. "For embezzlement? Please, any high-society member could easily have his sorry arse thrown into Azkaban, even for something he didn't do."
"Obviously," Diana sneers, nonverbally casting that Cleaning Charm on her skin, though the cut will have to be healed with a salve. "We're not bounty hunters. People hire us for revenge, their versions of justice. But how do you know that's what the client wanted him gone for? Phoenix never tells us, and there is no way in hell she trusts you more than me."
Hades smirks. "Maybe my research isn't as thorough as yours," he says, clicking his tongue while taking a few steps closer to her, Diana tilting her head up at him stubbornly, "but my connections are far better. Some things can only be known, not sought."
"Oh, fuck —"
"And don't try acting self-righteous," he continues, lips curving up into a cruel, twisted smirk. "There's nothing to be self-righteous about when you make money killing people. You're wrong, anyway. Not everyone deserves to see the face of their killer. He deserved nothing at all."
With that, Hades Apparates away.
Diana curses under her breath, still panting softly as she turns her head back to the dead, limp body of Cadmonius Hearst — a pudgy man who was a fraud, a charlatan, a power-seeking pervert, and apparently was wanted dead by someone with money for raping a girl.
Stupid Hades. First, he steals her kill, her money, and then he disappears without cleaning up after himself.
Sighing heavily, she wrenches the knock-off watch off of the man's body, whispers a Portus, and tosses it back onto him, watching it and his body disappear with a twist and flash of light to reappear at Headquarters.
—
hey babes !! hope u liked chapter one
here's just a fair warning: the two of us have our own books (and lives LOL) to worry about, so updates on stygian will be slow. fear not, however, as since were probably more excited about this than u cuties, we won't leave u hanging for too long
this ones to all the core whores, and especially our daughter (and secretary) slythercia
qotd: what would be ur alias if u were an assassin?