(Don't cue the music until it says so)
Sophie took small steps towards the piano that shone in the gentle moonlight. The windows were all open in the ballroom, light glowing the beautiful flooring and ornate pillars, gold and silver caressing the walls and pillars.
But it was woefully untouched.
Not even Maria had been in here recently, holding one of her grand events.
But it wasn't the quiet room that caught her attention.
It was her piano.
Hers.
Her grandfather loved to play it when they visited Renisanca from the Grecian countryside with Maria and Allesandro. But after their parents were executed, her father couldn't look at it; it hurt him too much. But after he saw his own daughter radiate towards it, her father did everything he could to make sure she could enjoy it.
She loved it when she was little, she loved plinking at the keys and combining them, making short ballads or tunes. Her father got her pages upon pages of written music, technique books. He knew little about the instrument himself, but he and Sophie learned together. Sophie never forgot a musical piece, the ones she made, or the ones she read.
Sophie glanced at the red velvet chair collecting dust near one of the pillars, well worn and comfortable. Her father would sit in that chair for hours, listening to her play, or just enjoying the rays of sun or moonlight coming through the floor to ceiling exquisite windows right at the edge of the stage.
Sophie tucked a blood-soaked strand of hair behind her ear and lifted herself onto the elevated stage, her muscled arms rising her in one smooth motion.
She ran her hands over the off-colored white keys, over the top and edges of the piano, just trying to remember the feeling of it. The blackened base topped with golden swirling decals and feet. Under the lid was a painting done by the crafter of the instrument, explicitly done for her grandfather.
She stared at the bench; the dust settled on the soft cushion.
Sophie glanced around, noting she was alone as ever.
She turned away from the piano, starting to jump off the small stage, but something stopped her.
She didn't know what it was, but her gaze kept flickering back to the piano. And she almost felt like an absent-minded impulse to sit on the bench. Sophie felt the shadow of her younger self sitting on the same bench nine years past, the last time she touched the instrument.
The whisper of the last time Sophie played these keys echoed in her memory.
She was wearing a new dress Maria made; her father was sitting in his chair in the corner of his room, listening to her practice and reading. She was having trouble performing a crescendo in her written music, having trouble focusing in general. She was hung up about what Daralice told her earlier in the day, how she taunted young Sophie about her mother. And how she broke down on this very bench, her father cradling her as she wept. She wanted what the other kids had; they had the fancy full family with both parents and happy siblings-
But her father reminded her of her own family, that their families are dull. That theirs was genuinely full of love, no matter which parent was there or not.
Sophie's dirty finger pressed on a key, the sound echoing through the empty ballroom.
It rung familiarly through her head, a memory of a lifetime ago.
Her other hand pressed on two different keys, complimenting the note that still echoed through the room. Her hands stilled, hesitant to continue.
There was a reason she stopped playing in the first place.
She tried to powerwash her father out of her life, trying to move on. She clammed up whenever he was mentioned, couldn't accept it when people compare her to him, even stopped her love of dance and music because every key she pressed, he was there. They both shared a passion for music, for dancing and culture.
Sophie's hands dropped from the keys, after only playing three notes. Maybe that was the only amount she had the will to play.
She glanced at the velvet chair with a small hope that Allesandro would be sitting in it, a book in his calloused hands and a cup of ginger tea sitting on the golden wood of the chair's arm.
But no matter how many times she glanced at that chair, he wasn't there, and would never sit in it again.
If he were here today, he would scold her for being so apprehensive about entering a simple room.
He would tell her she was being irrational not to want to play an instrument that brought her so much joy.
But that is exactly it, isn't it?
It brought her joy. What will it bring her now? She was sorrowful enough as it is, wallowing in her unaddressed trauma and terror. She didn't have the time to address it, to sit down and come to terms with it. Maybe she did have the time, and she just refused to.
The minute she started the song, what story will come out of it?
Will it be a song of high notes and riffs? One that may make her feel content like she was when she was a child?
Maybe it will be slow, simple, like the feeling of leisurely relaxation when she sits in the bay window in her room, one of her legs dangling out of the window sill and the other propping up her favorite book as she lazily dragged her fingers through her hair.
Or it may just be what she needs to hear; it won't be what she wished she felt.
The pads of her fingers hovered above the keys hesitantly.
(Cue music)
Absentmindedly, like it was her body's natural impulse to play, she started.
It was slow at first, but not relaxed.
The first note was deep, the ragged vibration reverberating through the empty hall. The crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling rattled, just slightly.
And then she continued to play out a small melody, middle-range notes complimenting the low plucked ones her other hand made. Though the melody was simple, it was filled with throbbing pain, coming from a dark place in Sophie's mind that she had long hidden away. Hidden away from others or herself, she did not know.
Her right hand went for the higher notes, the melody accelerating, just slightly, like how the wind blows stronger in fields compared to the forest. Her hands moved across the keys, faster and faster, feeling each hammer pressing on the strings inside the piano, each creak of the foot pedal as she pressed on it.
No tears ran down her face, no matter how deeply the sound moved her. The sound of the piano comforted her, silenced her emotions, but also freed them. No need for sobbing or yelling; she didn't need to throw something to express how angry she felt. The music did that for her.
She was angry, she realized.
She was mad at the Council for treating her and her family like they did.
She was furious at the Gods for the Fall of Inalia.
She was angry at Vespera for breaking Ruy and ruining the once happy young girl she used to be.
She was furious at Elrond for running that blade through her father's heart.
The music forced the memory to resurface, how she was desperately clinging onto Leto, screaming at Elrond. Screaming how she would kill him if he dared hurt his father. She remembered as Leto desperately guided the galloping horse through the crumbling buildings and burning gardens.
She remembered the look in her father's eyes, not one of terror or anger at Elrond, but a mixing swirl of regret and sorrow. Sorrow for not being able to see her grow older, to watch her fall in love, to watch her take over the guild, to proudly see her grow to the master Assassin she is today. The regret that he wasn't able to protect her for longer, love her longer, teach her for longer, hold her longer-
Sophie didn't know when her mouth opened and she started to sing, and she didn't stop either. Her voice was always quietly shared to Lilac, singing her lullabies to drift asleep to, but days when she stood in empty corridors or above wells, she would let go loose—singing about what she wished, with no one around.
The words she sang weren't comprehensible to anyone but her, echoing off her damaged and dry lips as they filled the room. They were powerful, no muttering lullabies, words that complimented and ran alongside the growing piano notes.
She moved wholly with the growing notes, dipping her head as the music itself dropped, raising her chin to the sky as the music climaxed, the sound reverberating in her ears while it opened and closed wounds of her soul.
Sophie's hands slowed, her hands still entirely only the keys, her keys, as they swayed to the ending. But it wasn't a real ending, not for her. Sophie's eyes finally opened as she diligently watched her keys pluck away at ivory and creme keys alike.
Sophie's foot lifted off the petal beneath her, her hands swiftly finishing the song with a flourish, letting out a breath. Sophie only now noticed the tears drenching her blood-stained cheeks, her shaking hands accented with dirt.
She looked around just slightly, making sure that she was still in reality. But the song drifted around the room, halls, and her heart. The delicate to intense keys plucking at the heartstrings even long after the song finished, her voice soothing and ringing through her ears.
Sophie let out a sob, running her hands through her matted hair.
She let out a shuddering gasp, her hands running down her arms as her lips split as she smiled, a dribble of blood running down the center of her bottom lip, reminding her of the blood and tears she spilled today.
She stood up, the bench screeching out underneath her, and stared at the velvet chair.
It was almost like her father was smiling at her from the velvet seat.
She vaulted off the stage, skidding around the corners of the hallways and stairs. She pushed the massive front doors open, the wood creaking as they swung open to reveal her home.
Inalia, glittering in all of its glory.
She could hear as the Inalian civilians cheered, celebrating that their protectors from the shadows were home once again.
But Sophie was going back to another home from when she was another woman.
Back when she was a girl.
Sophie didn't even pick up a cloak as she sprinted out the doors and into the moonlight.
Alexios awoke in his apartment, passed out on his bed, by a furious slamming at his door. He slowly reached for his dagger that he kept on his nightstand, but dropped it when he heard her voice.
"Get your lazy ass up!" Amalia barked through the door. Alexios groaned, thumping out bed and slowly creaking open the door.
"Lia, it is 12 at night. Go home." Alexios yawned.
"Nope, I'm going back to the Lost Cities." Amalia breathed. Alexios froze, his eyes wide
"You can't be serious." Alexios breathed.
Amalia looked around, making sure no one was listening, before leaning forward and whispering to her brother.
"I'm meeting up with Grady and Edaline tonight." She breathed. Alexios stiffened, leaning against his door frame, squinting at her with his left eye, the one that was still operational.
"Amalia, I know you realize this is a stupid idea. Just send them a letter or a transmission." Alexios whispered in return.
"This is something I need to do in person," Amalia whispered in return. Amalia let out a sigh, still covered in dirt and grime.
"Come with me, please," Amalia begged.
"Amalia, I'm not all that keen on seeing the elves again after I got bitch slapped." Alexios sighed. Amalia's brown eyes shone with desperation, and she clutched his hand. Alexios mumbled something he hoped she wouldn't hear under his breath, heading back inside to grab himself and Amalia a cloak.
Edaline pulled her coat closer to her shoulders, her eyes never breaking from the cave entrance. It was a minute past midnight, and the Ruewens were terrified to go in. Not because they would be sharing a close space with an assassin, but the fact that their little girl was in there...
"She is probably waiting for us," Grady whispered, holding Edaline's soft hands in his calloused ones.
"Yeah, she is," Edaline noted, still not moving. Grady turned to look at her fully, smiling warmly and tucking a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear.
"She is still Sophie, no matter what." Grady smiled. Edaline nodded, pecking his cheek and starting towards the cave. They were both acutely aware of Grizel and Sandor watching them above the cliff, making sure no harm will come onto them.
Grady and Edaline walked hand in hand into the cave, nervously glancing around.
She was nowhere to be seen.
There was a lit fire, crackling dully, but no one surrounding it.
Edaline deflated a bit, squinting in the darkness and looking for any signs-
"Amalia, smetti di camminare. Mi stai innervosendo e non sono nemmeno i miei genitori." A masculine voice called out in the darkness. Edaline recognized the voice; it was the same one of her brother.
"Non posso essere nervoso? E se mi odiano? E se fossero disgustati in quello che sono?" A feminine voice countered. Edaline clenched Grady's hand as she recognized the voice.
But they seemed to be coming from nowhere, the cave completely dark.
"Beh, sei morto da tre anni, Lia. Non posso dire di incolparli se sono un po 'titubanti." Her brother countered.
Edaline guessed they were talking in their native language, thinking it was just them in the cave.
"Grazie Alexios! Continuate così, è davvero utile, mi rende completamente meno nervoso."
"Non so davvero cos'altro dire in tutta onestà-" The masculine voice stopped, and at the very back of the cave, a man looked like he could be seen in the shadows.
"Amalia." The man called behind him. It took a moment, but a female emerged from the shadows.
Sophie.
She clearly hadn't cared for herself after the battle; she was still dirty and limping slightly. She still wore her black and steel armor, her weapons decorating her body still crusted with blood.
Her brown eyes were wide as she swallowed, stepping closer to Grady and Edaline.
"Hi," Sophie whispered out, her accented voice echoing in the cave. Both Grady and Edaline were silent; the only sound was the ocean lapping against the sands. Sophie let out a shaky sigh, fiddling with the fabric of her red hood.
"How did you do that?" Edaline asked, blankly. Sophie and her brother glanced at the back of the cave, where they easily hid in the shadows.
"It is what we are trained to do." Her brother responded, Sophie still quiet. Sophie tucked a strand of her long blond hair behind her ear, looking at the ground.
"I... don't know what you have heard or," She swallowed, "What you think of me." She glanced at her brother, who was stone-faced but looked at his sister softly. Clearly there for support, should she need it.
"I'm sorry." She blurted out. Grady and Edaline were taken aback by the sudden apology.
"I'm sorry," Sophie continued, "That I was so selfish not to let you know I was alive. I'm sorry that I never told you anything, that I couldn't tell you anything." Sophie looked up, her eyes brimming with tears.
"I never forgot about you. Not once," Sophie stuttered out. Edaline's grip on Grady's hand loosened.
"Every day I thought about you. I thought about how if things were different, where I would be." She looked at both of them, frail frames of what they once were, "Where you would be." Sophie breathed. Edaline took gentle steps forward.
"And I'm sorry that I disappoint you. I know this is never what you wanted from me. But I am happy where I am," Sophie bit her lip, looking down even as Edaline neared her.
"I love my family so much, and I love you so much. But that doesn't matter, because I didn't tell you-" Sophie whipped her head up, noticing Edaline was standing right in front of her. Sophie was as stiff as a statue as Edaline gently raised her hand, running her fingertips over Sophie's cheekbones and jaw, looking over her daughter. Even bruised and bloody, he was brighter, healthier, then when she was with the elves.
Her eyes had a spectacular golden sheen, even in the dark cave.
Her body was filled out more, more muscled. She didn't look like the thin frame she was with them.
Her skin was warmer and brighter, a sunkissed glow to it wherever she walked.
She carried herself better, more confidently.
Edaline's palm sat on Sophie's cheek, looking at her with tears in her eyes.
"We're so proud of you, Sophie," Edaline whispered. Sophie loosened, a sob breaking out of her. Edaline didn't mind the blood and dirt covering her daughter as they wrapped their arms around each other.
Edaline pulled away, tears running down her face as she turned to Grady. Grady walked forward, not even letting Sophie breath as he hugged her tight, not wanting ever to let go.
Sophie held onto her adoptive father with shaky hands, sniffling into his shoulder.
They all pulled apart, and their eyes drifted to her brother, who was standing at the back of the cave, smiling.
"This," Sophie went over to her brother, gripping his shoulder and looking at them, "Is my brother, Alexios Morretti."
Alexios didn't look much like his sister at first. Instead of her honey-blond hair, his hair was a light brown, almost like a light caramel. His right eye was bandaged entirely like earlier, but his face was cleaner. His shoulder-length hair was jaggedly chopped off on his right, but still intact on the left. On his face was some slight stubble.
But their faces were similar; they shared identical eye shape, cheekbones, smile, hair texture, ad more. You could definitely tell they were related. Except instead of his sister's golden brown eyes, he owned dark blue ones, like swirling oceans inside of his iris. He held out a large hand, his smile warm.
"I've heard so much about you," Alexios said kindly, his accent curling the words. Grady and Edaline shook his hand, still in shock that they were meeting their daughter's brother.
"Okay, Soph, we would like some answers. Alden and Della filled us somewhat in, but we would like the full story." Grady said, crossing his arms. Sophie looked amusingly at her brother, who jokingly rolled his eyes.
"You may want to sit down; this is going to take a while." Alexios chuckled.
So Grady and Edaline sat down on the cave floor with Sophie and Alexios, and heard their daughter's story.
Alvar and Mansi were quiet and their walk home, but they walked side by side, hands interclasped and leaning on one another's shoulders.
"We should probably get in contact with your family, give them a full rundown and such," Mansi said quietly to her fiance.
"We are doing all of that tomorrow, right now I need to get under our covers and sleep until noon tomorrow." He smiled. Mansi laughed, a sound full of sunshine and warmth, nuzzling against his shoulder. They walked towards their apartment, in comfortable silence.
"I have to stop by the pharmacist tomorrow," Mansi noted out of the blue.
"What for? Our medicine cabinet is full." Alvar asked.
"It is a check-up."
"You had one just two weeks ago." Alvar countered. Mansi's hand remained tight around Alvar's, even as she was quiet.
"Mansi?" Alvar asked. Mansi hummed, not giving him a full response. Alvar stopped, still holding her hand.
"What's wrong?" Alvar asked. Mansi smiled, pecking his cheek.
"Nothing is wrong; I just need to do another check-up." Mansi smiled.
"I mean, you haven't been yourself ever since I left. Did something happen since we last talked?" Alvar pushed, not falling for her distractions. Mansi sighed, running her hands over her bronze arms. Alvar tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear, looking at her in her cobalt eyes.
"Are you going to answer me or..." He asked, his eyes swirling with worry. Mansi blew out a breath.
Now or never.
"I was checked on by the Foxfire doctor, the one with the silly scrubs?" Mansi started.
"Are you okay? Were you injured?" Alvar looked her over, trying to find any identifiable injuries.
"No, no..." Mansi swallowed, choking on her own words.
She couldn't do it.
"It just got me thinking... about how much time we have left." Mansi sighed, cursing at herself that she couldn't tell him. Alvar wrapped his arms around her, looking at her in worry.
"Mansi-"
"When I woke up, I was in Everglen, and you weren't there. Everyone was looking at me, fussing over me. I thought," Mansi swallowed, "I thought you died, Alvar." Mansi shuddered. Alvar's mouth opened slightly, no sound coming out.
"I couldn't see you. I couldn't see Amalia, Ruy, or- or Nour, I-" Mansi's shoulders shook.
"I thought I was alone again. Just like I was before I met Amalia and Nour. I thought I lost everything, no matter how much your family assured me." Mansi explained, looking away.
"Mansi, I would fight until my dying breath before I left you. I will never, ever, leave you to be alone. None of us will." Alvar assured. Mansi bit her lip, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I just realized that there is so," she finally looked at him, tears dripping down her cheeks, "so much I want to do with you. With my life." Mansi pathetically chuckled.
"I want to live my life, and I want to live it with you. With this," Mansi gestured to around them.
"And when I saw Alexios's eye sealed shut by his own blood, when I saw Amalia limping in, not even caring about her own wounds..." Mansi's knuckles turned white.
"Alvar, things are moving too fast for us to take our time. We all nearly died today." Mansi breathed.
Alvar blinked.
"I want to marry you, Alvar. Today, tomorrow, any day would work, just... soon. " Mansi breathed. Alvar's eyes widened, but the corners of his mouth turning into a smile.
Mansi looked up to the star flecked sky, a small smile breaking onto her cheeks.
"I want to marry you, Alvar Vacker," Mansi repeated, looking at him with love in her eyes. Alvar's hands tightened around Mansi's back, happily squeezing her.
"Okay." He breathed.
"W-What?" Mansi stuttered, taken aback.
"Do you want to go to a priestess now? Or do you want a ceremony?" Alvar whispered.
Mansi looked like a gaping fish. In all honesty, Mansi didn't think Alvar would agree.
"I-I don't-"
"I want to marry you too, Mansi," Alvar whispered.
Mansi chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him thoroughly.
"I want a ceremony. A big one, where all of Inalia can come and celebrate." Mansi breathed onto his lips.
"Done," Alvar whispered.
The two of them stayed wrapped up in each other's arms for a long time.
Leto stood outside Maria's boutique, just staring at the wooden doors.
Nine years, he hasn't seen his old friend in nine years.
Inalia was just like how he remembered it. The smell, the sounds, the atmosphere... he was back home.
He was stuck in the Lost Cities for so many years; it felt like he wasn't a true Vatarian anymore.
Leto loosed a breath, knocking on the door. It was silent, and Leto worried that they might be asleep. But Alexios was the one to give him his mothers' address, saying they just left. Maybe they were still awake.
Leto lifted his hand again, his knuckles hovering right above the doors.
And the door swung open.
Leto saw the heard the flash of the blade before he saw it. Maria was in the door frame, in her sleepwear, her gauntlets hastily strapped on, the hidden blade pointed at his neck.
"Who are you? What do you-" Maria stopped, her eyes going wide with recognition. Her long brown hair was tied into a bun atop her head, perfectly curled. Her skin was clean and clear; her face exactly how he remembered it. But there was age there now, small gray streaks running through her hair, signs of stress in Vatarians, her under-eye bags slightly darker.
"L-Leto?" Maria stuttered. Leto wrung his hands, and he spotted Filomena flying down the stairs behind her wife, her hands covering her mouth as she stared at him.
His old friends.
"Hey," Leto smiled.
Maria's blade slowly started to slink back into its gauntlet, her face still in shock.
Leto shrugged, looking at her with wet eyes.
"I'm back." He breathed.
They both didn't move from their spots.
Leto peeked behind her, into the little boutique that she has had for years now. Things were slightly different than when he last saw the small shop. New perfume display, feathers and ruffles seemed to be the trend now instead of glitter, and there was a new line of men's clothing he knew wasn't there the last time he was in Inalia.
But it was still her boutique.
"I see you did some redecorating-" Maria threw herself onto Leto, hugging him so tight he was convinced one of his ribs snapped.
"LETO!" Maria sobbed.
Leto laughed, hugging her back. Filomena came running out after them, also throwing her arms around Leto.
It was almost like their small group never broke up.
But there was one person who was missing.
"Alessandro's really gone, isn't he?" Leto whispered. Maria and Filomena didn't respond, but Maria nodded her head.
"I thought you died," Maria whispered.
That word. Dead.
Leto's mind flashed with scenes of the Fall of Inalia.
Allesandro's face as the sword plunged through his heart.
The fire licking up the sides of the buildings.
And...
He and Amalia, dead at the bottom of a ditch.
"I thought you were dead, I thought you died," Maria sobbed. And Leto hated it when he pulled back from the women and whispered,
"I think I did."
Maria and Filomena paled, but Leto cleared his throat.
"May I come in?" Leto asked quietly. Maria glanced behind them. Senate guards were patrolling the streets, quickly walking down the one where they all stood talking.
"Quick," Maria breathed, moving aside to let Leto in, followed by Filomena.
They all rushed inside the store right as the guards breezed past.
Ruy was surprised people weren't all clamoring away from him as he drifted homewards through the crowded streets of Inalia. It was a rowdy night, the Assassins celebrating a job well done, and the Inalian citizens were cheering that they were home at last. He noticed the Senate's guards asking around, wondering why people were so overjoyed, but everyone brushed them off, not wanting to sell out the guild for anyone.
Apparently, Ruy's heritage spread like wildfire, and he wasn't exactly upset about it. He didn't have to leave the room when others talked about their mothers; he didn't have to laugh it off when people asked about his father awkwardly.
Inalians seemed to be aware that Ruy was Vespera's son, therefore making himself half Vatarian, and then half Dunmer. But they didn't know who was his Dunmer father, and maybe that was for the best. He didn't know how he felt about being a part of the royal family in all honesty.
Some people whispered about him, but nothing that bad. People saw how damaged he was and asked if he has seen a doctor, where Ruy would lie, saying he was going to see one now.
His wings dragged behind him, and as much as he hated getting them dirty, he didn't have the strength to lift them. He was so exhausted, from both the flight to Eternalia and the fight itself. But the trip wasn't as bad as it should have been. Ruy didn't remember much from his transformation, but he does remember the smells, touches, and power overwhelming him.
And he remembered her hand.
The warm hand of a nurturing mother, resting on his cheek.
Sarai said something to him, but it sounded like muted nonsense because his vision was centered wholly on his father, the King of the Dunmer.
But he remembered as Sarai shifted his gaze to her, her brown bob jagged as she looked over his face, her horns glinting in the light of the wrecked hallway. She shifted her wings, just slightly, before hugging him tightly, whispering something to him, and then igniting her ability from within her. She gave him three cobalt crystals, placing them on the tops of his hands. From the crystals bloomed his armor, which folded over him like unveiling a blanket of metal over him. The armor conformed around him, and in the center of his chest, the cobalt blue crystal easily shifted into the setting, waiting for it.
Sarai's hands were on his shoulders as she hugged him, and Ruy felt them glow. He remembered as his anger slowly simmered away as Sarai pushed her ability onto him. He will never forget how she looked at with not a sneer, like Vespera, but a smile of understanding.
"She needs you." Queen Sarai whispered.
Vapor still pooled out Ruy's mouth as her face turned serious.
"Fly fast." Queen Sarai finished.
And then Ruy was out the broken window, his wings flapping as if it were second nature.
Ruy figured out what Sarai did after he arrived at the Battle of Foxfire in a matter of two hours.
Her ability is speed.
And not normal speed. It was like he was jumping through the void between the world, flying above an empty plane, and then the world would blackout, and he would suddenly be flying over a forest, a day cut off his trip. His entire being moved with such agility and speed he cut through the folds of space.
He should be thanking his stepmother, not his father.
Ruy was forced back to reality as he urked to a stop back as some Inalian bystander tumbling over his sagging wings.
"Oh my gods, I'm so sorry!" The young Vatarian woman gasped, picking herself up and rushing over to Ruy.
"No, no, it's my fault. I shouldn't be so lazy to drag them around like this." Ruy chuckled, brushing himself off. The woman looked him up and down, and her face lit up with recognition.
"Oh my gosh, you're-"
Ruy was ready for her to claim him as Vespera's son, prepared for the sneer.
"You're the Second in Command of those... those" She furiously snapped her fingers as she tried to think of the name. She gasped.
"Those Cyevan Assassins, right, the ones in the golden Guildhall atop the hill? The Ruy Ignis?" She whispered, carefully pointing her voice away from the Senate guards that were patrolling the town square. Ruy nodded and hauled himself to his feet, picking up his wings and tucking them into his back.
"Yeah, that's me." He awkwardly muttered. Her face lit up. She looked to be around 16, bright blond hair that looked almost like snow. Her eyes were a brilliant cornflower blue, full of teal highlights. Her skin was as pale as her hair, maybe even paler. She looked almost bleached of color but in a perfect sort of way. She wore a massive mity green dress, flecked with pieces of gold foil scattered among the skirt and bodice. The sleeves puffed around her shoulders, complimenting the low scooping neckline that showed off the golden pearl choker wrapped around her neck.
Half of her hair was pulled up in a bundle of curls at the crown of her head. The rest of it tumbled it down her shoulders and back. Twisted into the coils were a menagerie of different types of bright wildflowers. Her lips and cheeks were the slightest tinges of pink; her eyelids were dusted gold.
"You look... colorful." Ruy complimented.
"Why, thank you! Tonight is a night of celebration, so I decided to pick one of the less inconvenient and inexpensive dresses so I could dance more easily tonight."
The dress was more expensive than everything in Ruy's whole closet.
"I'm guessing you are a part of the Renisanca Nobility, correct?"
"How did you know?!" She gasped as if he were a carnival fortune teller.
"Just a guess." He chuckled.
The girl took an exaggerated curtsy, a warm smile on her face.
"Herate Firenze, Lady of the House of Firenze. Wonderful to meet you." she smiles.
"No need for the formalities, I'm a nobody assassin," Ruy held out his hand, "Ruy Ignis." He offered. She furiously shook his hand, taking him slightly aback.
"I make sure to treat everyone I meet with the respect I would use with a worldly king! Bastard or Princess, it matters not to me." Herate smiled, still shaking Ruy's hand. She finally let go of Ruy's poor hand, happily looking around them.
She was kind, clearly bubbly and hopeful. Ruy didn't have that many interactions with the Inalian nobility, and most of them were with Daralice. And those mostly consisted of her and Sophie snarling at each other's throats.
"Everyone is so happy to have you all back." Herate sighed.
"It is good to know that at least somebody is thankful for what we do," Ruy muttered.
"Why? Is there someone who is not?" Herate asked.
Ruy knew he had to be careful what he told the girl, the Senate is going to be furious, and if the Inalian public learns about where they were, they may not be happy. After all, the Lost Cities are not popular here.
"Let's just say there are a few who prefer not to use our services."
Herate shrugged, a finger on her chin. "I guess I understand that. Assassins are either loved or hated, depending on who they kill and where they spend their blood money." Herate
admitted.
Ruy's wings barked in pain, his entire body wanting just to sleep forever. But Herate's eyes gazed over Ruy's wings.
"Wow," She breathed, "What is it like to fly? Fly with your own wings?" Herate breathed. In all reality, Ruy didn't know. After he transformed and Sarai gave him access to her ability, he was in a zone of complete anger and panic; he was acting simply on adrenaline. He didn't feel his flyover, and when he did fly over, it was all-natural to him.
But now that he was back to his usual mindset, he could barely flap the wings, much less fly.
He never learned how to put the wings away, either. He was in such a panic to leave that he couldn't feel the flyover and didn't know how to get rid of them.
"It's... interesting, to say the least." Ruy lied, not wanting to explain the whole thing to the stranger. Herate clearly wished to inquire further, but Ruy started to walk away slowly.
"Well, again, I'm sorry for my sloppiness, and I hope you have an enjoyable night."
"Sir?" Herate called out to him. Ruy turned on his heel, not wanting to be rude to the girl but also just wanting to pick up a bottle of bourbon and go to bed.
"Yes, lady?" He responded.
"Is it true that you are going to try to sneak the Vatarian leaders into Inalia to have a meeting that is going to determine the future of our civilizations?" Herate asked quietly.
Ruy's didn't show any emotion, but inside his head, he was screaming.
"How-"
"I'm a part of the Inalian Nobility, let's just say things get around." Ruy didn't move as Herate approached him, ready to fight if she busts out a weapon. But she simply plucked off her golden choker, placing it in his hands.
"Not all of the nobility are your enemies, Ruy," She smiled, closing his hand around the choker, "When the time comes for that meeting, bring your inner court to my family's beach estate." She turns around, not issuing a goodbye or anything of the sorts. But she did stop, glancing over her shoulder.
"Let's just say we share similar interests for the future." Herate smiled.
Ruy watched her go, his mouth still agape.
He looked around, quickly pocketing the choker and heading back down the street towards the liquor store, his brain running wild.
Did Herate know what she was getting herself into by helping them? What if they were discovered? What would that do for her family's reputation?
Ruy didn't really want to think about it at the moment, and he didn't even care as he swung open the doors to the liquor shop, awkwardly shuffling his body to fit in with his wings and picked up a bottle of spiced bourbon, his armor still covered in grime and blood. The shoppers all stared at him open-mouthed, but nobody said a thing as he purchased the bottle and threw his golden coins on the counter, unscrewing the bottle as he walked back out onto the street.
It freshly turned Autumn in Inalia, and people were bundled up with scarfs and mittens as they celebrated in the streets. People stared at Ruy as he walked towards his apartment, his wings fully tucked in after his incident with Herate.
After Ruy moved out of Alvar's place, he found a shitty loft on the western side of Renisanca, right on the edge of it. It was across the canal that ran through all of Renisanca, separating the city from the slums and nobility. It was a place to start for him, and he didn't need anything more than that. Ruy noted that he didn't have his bag with him, he left it during his explosive hissy fit, probably scattered among the wreckage in the room.
His battle robes and other things were in that bag, along with his keys.
Ruy grumbled to himself as he leaned down and grabbed his lockpicks, breaking into his own home.
But the door swung open, and Ruy practically fell through the door frame onto his creaky hardwood floors. Ruy closed the door behind him, looking over his tiny empty apartment. His windows were small and dirty; poor blue curtains tucked to the side of the windowsills. The other side of his apartment was his kitchen, dull countertops, wood stove, and only three cabinets surrounding the humming fridge. The couch was pulled out to his bed, pillows fluffed and scattered among his sheets.
Ruy sighed, placing his bourbon on the coffee table he was using as a bedside table. He stretched out, his wings groaning out behind him. He tried to walk through the tiny space to shut the curtains and try to get some sleep, but his wings rammed into his lamps, tables, chairs, anything and everything. Ruy cursed to himself, awkwardly hobbling around his furniture to the window.
This was going to take some time to get used to.
He should probably return to the Dunmer Kingdoms, learn precisely how to use these things... but not yet.
Ruy closed his curtains, awkwardly trying to figure out how to take off this mystery armor he was given. He tried looking for straps in the cracks of the black metal, but none were seen. He grazed his hand over the blue crystal at his chest, trying to pull it off. It surprisingly popped off with no problem, and the armor slowly started to shrink back into the blue crystals.
Until Ruy was finally in his regular clothing that was underneath the armor, three blue stones in his hands. He didn't want to think about it too much, so he slapped the crystals onto his counter and changed into his sweat pants. He had no shirts that accustomed the massive wings, so he just went bare-chested as he flopped into bed. He shuffled around, trying to get into the right position with the massive extra limbs on his back, but nothing felt right.
Ruy groaned, running his hands down his face. He opted for just glancing at the beams of moonlight shining through the cracks of his curtains, watching as they shifted and bent as the moon moved across the sky.
It may have been an hour or two that he was in that bed, waiting for his body to grant him sleep. But right as he was about to doze off, Sophie's gentle voice whispered in his head.
"Where are you?" It asked.