Daughter of Nyx...M

[oOGarrettOo]

Daughter of Nyx, rated Mature.

Foul language, nudity, gratuitous violence....not all that gratuitous.

47 pages at just over 22k words. Took maybe two weeks to fully complete.

Feedback is appreciated. I tried to edit it myself so I'm sure there are a ton of mistakes.

If you'd like to see the characters, I have two drawing. This is Banks and this is Adalira. Sorry for the shitty quality, I took them with my phone.

Anyway, enjoy!  

[oOGarrettOo]

Daughter of Nyx

Banks sat huddled against the chill, hidden behind rocks and bushes in just the right position to see down the hill. His sword was sheathed, but on his lap, his cloak and furs pulled tight. It was nearing dusk and he’d been at his post since dawn, stomach growling and head a bit light. But there were only so many of them and with the cold everyone was falling ill. His comfort was less important than making sure the White Legions didn’t find their little rebel camp and decimate them.

They’d been living in the oversized gully for three months, ever since they’d been chased out of their village by Onarch’s legions. Their journey had started with nearly a hundred and after harsh travel through difficult terrain their numbers had fallen to barely half that. Now the sickness…

He sneezed and cursed, wiping at his nose with a corner of his cloak, stomach grumbling angrily. “What I wouldn’t give for some hot soup…” A nearby rustle nearly had him flying from his skin and he grabbed his knife.

“Banks?”

He sighed and took a breath. “I’m here. Scared the piss out of me. Is it time?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah, you can head on back. Mab saved you a hearty portion of dinner, so you be sure to thank her. Anything at all today?”

Banks shook his head. “Nothing. They probably won’t bother coming this far back. Not when the road is big enough and takes them right where they want to go.”

“Eh, you never know. We take down another caravan and they’ll be sure to start weeding us out.”

“There’ll be no getting back here when the snow starts. We’ll be lucky if we can get out of our burrows for that matter,” Banks said, getting to his feet and stretching.

“Good thing winters here are short.”

“Short but massively cold. Here, to help with tonight,” said Banks and he tugged off his fur, instantly shivering as the steady, icy breeze swept over once warm shoulders.

“Sure you won’t need it?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. You’re the one out in the elements. Take care,” said Banks and he hurried off, holding his thin cloak around himself tightly as he went.

It didn’t take long to reach the encampment in the center of the gully, weak fires flickering in small stone pits to minimize their glow. Night had fallen completely during his trek and he gratefully ducked into a burrow, shivering like mad. It was the elder women’s burrow where the cooking, sewing, and doctoring were handled by the six elder women that had managed to hang on. Mab was the leader of the little group and definitely not someone to be trifled with. They looked up as he entered and she tsked.
“Banks, where on earth is your fur?”

He shivered and plopped down next to their fire. “I lent it to Cork so he wouldn’t freeze tonight. It’s bitter out there.”

“Cork has two already.”

“Well it never hurts to be over prepared then. He said you saved me soup?”

Mab sighed and her face softened. “Of course we did. Everyone get’s a share, especially those out on watch all day. You’ll need to let it warm up again,” she said, gathering the pot and stirring what remained. Banks watched her work, the stout, graying woman setting it on the hot stone that capped their fire, eyes soft, but focused as she stoked the embers and added some kindling. Banks huddled closer to the warming pit and pressed his cloth-wrapped hands to the stone, the heat warming them instantly.

“Anything unusual today?” she asked softly, grabbing her blanket and draping it over his shoulders for the time being.

Banks shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t blame them. They’d be crazier than usual to be out in this weather. I don’t doubt their gear is better.” He gratefully pulled the blanket closer.

Mab hummed and dug through their reserves for some half-frozen bread, setting it on the stone beside the pot. “Two months of winter and it’ll start to warm again. We can survive it. We always have.”

“Sure, with houses and stoves, better protection from the elements. More food, more warmth, and medicine if we needed it. Not here, Mab. We don’t have half of it.”

She tsked. “Now, now, these old biddies here are good for more than just cooking. We still know our roots. Eulace has been out every afternoon when it’s warmest with one of the younguns, gathering up what plants they could find to make us medicine enough to help most. Fortunately, no serious illness has sprung up yet.”

“Just a couple days of drying and they’ll be good to mix,” said Eulace from the back, tightly bundled.

“Well perhaps it would be better for you older women to stay indoors until the weather breaks. You’re more susceptible to the cold,” said Banks.

“Tosh. We’re old but not weak. Who do you think digs up the snow to find what’s in your soup, eh?”

Banks grinned. “Mostly the children, I wager.”

“But who do you think tells them which plants should be plucked?”

Banks laughed. “The kids ought to be staying inside, too.”

“Banks, if you go ahead and give those sorts of orders then nothing will get done, everyone will become ill from being bundled up too closely, and we’ll all starve to death,” said Mab.

“Well at least we wouldn’t freeze.” Mab cuffed him upside the head and he hissed. “Soup warm?”

“What do you think?”

He groaned. “What I wouldn’t give for a stove.”

“We’d all like one of those,” one of the other women intoned.

The crunch of footsteps through freezing snow had them quiet down, Banks grabbing his sword, but they all sighed in relief as two other watchmen ducked and wandered in, one carrying a scrawny hare.

“Evening. Brought something to add to tomorrow’s soup, Mab,” he said, holding it out for her.

The elder woman lifted up to her knees and took the offered rabbit, looking it over and tsking. “What weak animals in these parts. Haven’t seen a good hare or deer yet. All so scrawny. Ah well, it’ll help it stretch, anyway, and they’re always good for the pelt. Thank you, dear,” she said, shuffling to the side to stick it where it would remain pliable, but cold overnight.

The two plopped down beside the measly fire and reached out with tentative fingers, poking at the stones to test them before applying their hands. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and tomorrow will be sunny?”

“Doubt it.”

“The sooner winter’s over, the better. Don’t wish for warmth until it’s due,” said Banks, passing off the blanket.

“You mustn’t have spent enough time outside today,” jibed one.

“Or too much, anyway,” said the other, twirling a finger around his temple and chuckling.

“Ha, ha. Gods, is this done yet?” Banks asked, sticking a finger in the soup. It was lukewarm.

Mab slapped him away. “You keep your dirty hands out of it. It’s ready if you don’t mind it not being hot,” she said.

“We’re starving, Mab. If it were frozen, we’d suck on it,” said one of the others. She shrugged and grabbed the homemade wooden bowls, dividing what remained in the pot and passing it around. The three sucked it down slowly, trying to savor every bit, and used their measly piece of bread each to soak up what was left inside the bowl.

“All right, all right. You can’t very well draw it out of the wood. Off to the men’s quarters with you. Get some rest,” said Mab, snatching the bowls and shooing them away. Her blanket was returned and the boys hurried over to the young men’s burrow where the couple hunters were already tucked in and sleeping. The three pushed their way around, causing curses and angry grumbles to fly, but finally settled in with their own blankets and cloaks and eagerly fell asleep.

**
“Get up! Everyone, get up!”

Banks groaned into consciousness and looked around for the one shouting. One of their patrol reached down and tugged at him. “Wake up, come out and see what we’ve found.”

“Ugh, shut it. What?” he groaned, rubbing at his face.

“Just get up and get out here, Banks.”

“Banks!”

At Mab’s desperate shout, he was on his feet and tugging on his boots, rushing out of the burrow and into the cold. He winced at the first cold breeze and looked around through sleepy eyes. Most of the residents had gathered in a circle around a couple guards and through gaps he could see someone in the center, forced to the ground. Mab and a couple of the other older women were pushing and shoving, screaming for them to unhand whomever it was, but the younger men continued to force them back.

“What’s going on!?” he bellowed. The group stopped and parted, giving him a clear view of what the patrolmen held at their feet. It was a petit woman, barely clothed, pale skin red from the cold and rough treatment, a sack over her head to keep her from seeing the way to the gully.

“A small caravan was heading towards Averanth. Packed full of goods—food, gold, fine clothes—and this,” said one, and he tugged the sack from her head, the other tossing her down. Pale eyes glared up at them through pure white hair and everyone’s breath caught. Banks had never seen such a beautiful woman, and he knew the others were thinking the same. Mab finally forced her way through and pulled off her cloak, intending to throw it around the woman’s shoulders.

“Stop!” Banks commanded. Mab looked up at him in shock. “If she was in a Legion caravan, then she’s one of them.”

Mab scowled. “She’s just a woman.”

“She’s their woman.”

“I’m his woman.”

Everyone stopped and looked down at her as she pushed to her feet, wrapping arms around herself against the cold. “I am Lord Onarch’s bride-to-be…and if you don’t release me this instant, you’ll all pay.” Most of them laughed and her look of determination wavered.

“You’re in the middle of nowhere. Eight of us just took out your caravan. You have no idea where you are. What makes you think anyone is coming for you,” said Cork. She glared at him and even Banks felt it.

“His woman, you say? What are you, royalty?”

“A peace-offering from Maerth. Me, fealty, and Onarch swore not to harm the city or its people. So you see, it’s imperative that I get to Avade. By keeping me here you condemn my people to death,” she said, starting to shiver.

“I say we ransom her.”

“I say we kill her and let the river take her.”

“There’ll be no killing her! Banks, she’s a victim, just as us. Have you gone mad?” said Mab.

“She’s in league with the Legion, she’s no victim,” said Banks.

“Because clearly she wants to marry that fiend. Stupid boy, she’s being forced into it,” said Eulace.

“Then there should be no complaints, she’s not having to marry him being here,” said Cork.

“So you’ll let her city be invaded, innocent people without a choice murdered, just as our village?” said one of the old men.

“Send her off to Avade. Chances are she’ll die on her own anyhow. Let the Legion patrol find her body and report to their lord,” shouted one of the young men.

“And if it were one of us forced to such a fate?” shrieked one of the women.

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“We’re not going to kill her. Get rid of her, put her back with the wreckage from the caravan. She’ll deal with her own fate, just as we have,” said Banks. Again, everyone went quiet and stared at him as though he were insane.

“What? Just leave her? And if they happen to find her alive, she’ll tell them what happened and lead them right to us,” said Cork.

Banks shrugged. “It’ll be a few days before anyone figures the caravan isn’t arriving as scheduled. By then, she’ll have either walked far enough away from us it won’t matter, or she’ll have nothing to worry about at all. My guess is the latter, judging from her attire and general frailty. Just put her back.”

“Put her back? You’d leave an innocent woman to freeze to death? You’re no better than Onarch yourself, Banks. To brazenly decide she should just…die. You don’t think these things through, boy,” said Mab. She huffed and threw her cloak around the woman’s shoulders, pulling her away from the group. “I’ve heard enough. You’ll have to go through me, you savages. Come along, dear.” Mab and Eulace led her away to the elder women’s burrow. Banks followed them down.

“She can’t stay here. If they come looking for her, that’s it for all of us.”

“Well she’s not leaving in the state she is, not in this weather. What’s gotten in to you, Banks? You’ve never been so callous,” said Mab.

“Maybe it’s because I have nearly forty people that I need to worry about keeping alive over the winter and would rather not have a woman in our camp that the Legion will be looking for,” he said.

“Who’s to say they’ll be looking for her?”

“She’s Onarch’s bride. If she’s part of a bargain, that monster will tear apart everything along the way looking for her. Besides, look at her. It’s obvious why he made the deal in the first place.”

Mab huffed. “Fine then. You want her to leave, then you find her better clothing and you make her up a bag to sustain her.”

“I’m sure she has plenty of fine things pulled from the caravan and I’ll do no such thing. We barely have enough to go around as it is.”

“I’m done speaking, Banks. She’s staying here, at least until the winter’s through. Gods, look at this, the poor child doesn’t even have shoes!” said Mab, quickly bending to examine her feet. Eulace and one of the others had grabbed their blankets, quickly swaddling her. Banks looked down, surprised to see that she didn’t in fact have anything on her feet.

He frowned. “You aren’t outfitted for the weather.” She glared up at him through icy eyes and a shiver went down his spine. “No shoes, a sheer dress…were they trying to kill you before you got there?”

“I wasn’t to leave the caravan. My cart was made special, heated. This is what I was given to wear,” she said, looking away from him and towards the tiny fire.

Banks snorted. “They did a fine job of spoiling you, then. Wonder what fancy things we’ll find—ouch! Mab, stop it!” he shouted, holding up his hands against the stinging assault of Mab’s reed broom. She whacked him repeatedly, aiming for a new place each time until he was out of the burrow.

“Now you stay out, you…child,” Mab spat and she slammed their little burrow door.

Banks huffed and turned back to the group rummaging through the mess of things pulled from the caravan. The women had already hurried off with the supplies to begin rationing them out for meals and the men sifted through spare knives and swords to replace their lost and broken ones. The remaining items were strewn about and Banks scowled.

Cork looked up at his leader. “You notice?”

Banks hummed. “I thought she was a bride…There’s nothing here.”

“Right. Weapons, spare supplies—cloaks, some blankets—food…but, there’s nothing but some fancy pillows and a small iron traveler for heating to suggest she’s something special.”

“Other than the armed Legion guard, that is,” said one of the other men.

“Nothing for a woman at all?” asked Banks.

Cork shrugged. “Not that we’ve seen. Maybe she’s not as wanted as she’d like to believe?”

Banks hummed. “Lead you to believe it, anyway. If it weren’t for the guard I’d be inclined to think so myself. Well, get the traveler stove in with the women and children, children especially. Keep them warmer. Just because there’s a little extra food does not mean the rations will be larger. It’s a blessing to have a little extra and it could help us when the meals get thin. No room for argument,” he called out to the group, everyone stopping to listen to his instructions, some whining.

Cork sighed and got to his feet, folding up a spare blanket and passing it off. “She really staying, then?”

Banks shrugged. “Unless you can get Mab to let her go, at least until winter’s over. Ugh, what a mess. We’ll have to really watch for Legion now,” he said, taking an offered pillow and heading for their burrow.

“You really think he’ll waste time looking for her?” asked Cork.

“Would you waste time searching for something that looks like that?”

“Good point.”

Banks groaned as he ducked into the den and gathered his jacket, bundling up and sighing as his numb limbs ached. “Off to patrol, I suppose.”

“I’ll try to snag you something to eat.”

Banks sighed. “Right…get some rest, I’ll see you at dusk,” he said and he gathered sword and fur, heading out for his usual patrol route, eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.

**
The soup was thicker for the next couple evenings; everyone’s belly a little fuller, their energy a little improved. The extra blankets helped keep the ill warmer and the children slept well again with the added heat from the iron traveler. This in turn made the irritated mothers a little less irritable which made everyone else generally a bit happier.

The refugee woman stayed hidden in the elder women’s burrow for the most part, only appearing to relieve herself now and again. Banks refused to thin everyone else’s rations to feed her, so Mab, Eulace, and the other four each saved bits from their meals, compiling leftovers for her, of which he’d heard she excepted graciously. He humphed every time he thought about it. If he were starving like her and leftovers were all he was given, he’d be gracious about it, too.

The brunt of winter came on strong and they were all forced to stay inside their burrows or risk freezing to death in the icy storm. The first day, Banks bundled up and braved the weather, running from burrow to burrow to hand out supplies, hoping what they had would last the couple weeks of foul conditions.

He popped into Mab’s burrow and tossed the sack in a corner, looking around the dimly lit chamber at the bundled women. “This should last you a couple of weeks. I’m not sure what we’ll do if it doesn’t,” he said, shaking snow from his person.

Mab shifted closer and took up the sack, sifting through the contents. “We’ll make it stretch. Plenty of water to fill the void. Suppose the storm will only last two weeks?”

Banks shrugged. “I’ve never seen it last any longer and we aren’t so lucky to have it let up sooner. Do you have enough blankets? Kindling?”

“Yes, yes, we prepared for this weeks ago. The seven of us will be just fine,” said Mab.

“She isn’t causing trouble for you, is she?”

“Hush now, Banks, she’s been a dear. Very helpful. The girl knows her way around medicinal roots,” said Mab, sounding highly pleased.

Banks humphed. “Suppose if she knows poisons, too?”

“Oh, there you go again. What possible good would poisoning us do this girl? Hmm?” said Eulace angrily from the back, giving the girl’s shoulder a pat. Banks looked back at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Part of him was glad for it.

“Well, I suppose I’ll know for sure if I come over in a few days to find the lot of you dead. I’ll be back to check on you if I can get out of my burrow. Stay warm,” said Banks and he checked his gear to make sure he was properly covered before ducking back out into the blizzard and running for the men’s burrow.

As expected, two weeks of angry weather broke into cold, but clear days. It took most of the first day for everyone to clear enough snow away from the set in doors to get out of the burrows, but once they did everyone was out, breathing deeply the fresh air and stretching their limbs. The burrows were opened as wide as possible to let them air out and pots of snow were melted to lend lukewarm water for bathing.

“Gods, I hope that’s it for the blizzards,” said Cork, using a cloth to wipe at his face and neck with the warm water. “I can’t stay cooped up in there anymore, not unless we all have a complete bath and washed gear.”

Banks laughed, thinking the same. “Pray to Istus. Perhaps he’ll take pity on his people and end the blizzards for us, let through Pryal’s sun.”

“Well, I’ll go hunting and we can make a sacrifice of whatever I manage to catch,” said Cork, getting to his feet and gathering his bow and quiver.

“If you catch anything at all. Try not to go too far, all right? The snow’s pretty heavy,” said Banks. Cork brushed him off and hurried away to hopefully gather at least one critter to add to their hot water and plants.

“Please, dear, I know you probably want to get out of the burrow, but at least take these furs for your feet,” Mab’s concerned voice carried over. Banks looked up to see their fair-haired foundling emerging from the hole without a care to how little she wore. Her grey eyes seemed to take in every little detail of their surroundings, sweeping across their camp, gully walls, and the thick tree line faster than Mab could admonish her for stepping outside with bare feet.

“Please, Mab, I couldn’t take any more from you than what you’ve already given,” the woman said, refusing the fur wraps.
“It’s not about charity, Adalira, it’s about smarts. Your skin will freeze and you’ll lose your fingers and toes. It’s not warm enough to be out in that thin dress.

“I’ll be fine without, really,” Adalira insisted. She jumped as a large fur was tossed around her shoulders and looked back questioningly, eyes widening just slightly at seeing Banks there, looking at her curiously. Mab blinked in surprise.

Adalira shifted the fur and studied him. “Thank you.”

Banks dismissed it. “If something happens to you, I’ll never hear the end of it. Save me the misery and just do what she says,” he said and he marched back to the men’s burrow. Adalira smirked behind him.

Mab shook her head. “I’m sorry about him, dear. He wasn’t always so callous.”

“I understand. He’s only doing what he thinks is right. I suppose if it will put you at ease I’ll use the furs,” she said, tugging the heavy skin around her and looking back to Mab.

“I wish you wouldn’t be out at all in such little gear. Can’t you get fresh air enough through the boards we opened by the fire?”
Adalira smiled softly. “I’m not used to being so confined. I fear I’ll go mad if I don’t step out for awhile.”

Mab sighed. “Well, if you must you must. Ask Istus to end his winter and usher in the spring. The sooner it warms up the better for all of us,” she said, motioning Adalira to sit. She did and Mab quickly fashioned makeshift shoes.

“Warmth will come when it’s ready. The earth needs the rest that winter brings. Our wants mean nothing. Besides, the worst of it has ended,” said Adalira plainly. Mab gave her a strange look, but the woman was too busy examining her surroundings.

“Well, don’t wander too far. I can’t keep you safe from these angry men and women if you’re beyond my reach,” said Mab, getting back to her feet.

Adalira chuckled. “Your women don’t frighten me. Your men even less so,” she said, and she wandered away, heading up the gully wall towards the thick brush to see what she could see.

Banks watched her go and fidgeted. He could see some of her haters watching her and it made him uneasy. The last thing he wanted was for the camp to divide itself over this woman. She was like a siren to the men who hadn’t seen a young woman like her in nearly a year, and her involvement with Onarch made more than just the men lust for her spilled blood as well.

Struggling with himself, he finally jumped to his feet and hurried after her when she disappeared into the trees. Cork hadn’t been the only one to go off hunting and the temptation might prove to be too great.

“You should listen to Mab and stay closer to the camp,” he called after her as he slipped into the woods and caught sight of her a few yards away.

Adalira glanced back at him. “I find it odd and slightly endearing how you seem to worry after me.”

“I don’t need anymore responsibilities. A few of my men are out hunting. I can’t promise your safety if you’re away from camp,” he said, catching up to her.

“How strange of you to care considering you’d been so insistent on tossing me back on the road to try and find my own haven before the storms came,” she bit, turning to face him, those unnatural grey eyes boring into him.

“I’m only trying to do what’s right by my people. Our numbers have already been cut in half since the White Legion attacked our village. I don’t want any reason for his men to come hunting us down. Forgive me if your life means little compared to theirs,” he spat angrily.

Adalira snorted. “He won’t come looking for me,” she said, an edge to her voice that was completely unlike the soft, haughty attitude Banks had witnessed so far.

“He won’t send parties out to search for his bride? He’s taking one, I find it hard to believe that he’d dismiss you so easily.”
“You don’t know a damned thing. Which direction is the road?” Adalira demanded. It was so firm, so direct that Banks was hard pressed not to answer her, those grey eyes burning into his soul.

He stoned himself and glared. “If you want to leave then do it, but I’m not giving you any information. We’ve been safe in this gully. The last thing I want is for anyone unfriendly to find us.”

“Well your clever men brought the most unfriendly with them, so it’s a bit late for that,” she seethed and she marched back for the gully.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Adalira looked back at him, a look in her eyes that made him shiver. “If I told you I’d have to kill you.”  

[oOGarrettOo]

**
The following week was tense and uncomfortable for everyone in the small refuge. Adalira was back to being shy and timid, acting so ridiculously delicate in front of everyone else, but shooting Banks that piercing gaze whenever he looked at her wrong. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t unnerving. There was definitely something she wasn’t telling him, telling anyone, and it made him nervous for his people.

Despite everyone’s apparent dislike of her, simply for her status as Onarch’s bride, she proved to be incredibly useful. Mab was unendingly impressed by Adalira’s knowledge of herbs and their uses. She even showed her a few different recipes and proved their affects by using them to treat the most ill. What puzzled them the most was that she herself seemed unable to fall ill. Wearing nothing but her dress and the borrowed furs, she seemed a picture of health, despite spending every day outdoors in the cold, rooting around for plants with Mab and the children.

It wasn’t until one terrifying afternoon that most of his people finally started to trust her.

“Banks! Mab!” Cork’s terrified voice shouted for them from the trees. Everyone looked up in alarm and Banks went running, closely followed by a couple other men. They found Cork stumbling towards them, covered in blood, hauling a very ashen hunter. The snow around them stained quickly and Banks rushed forward, grabbing the man’s other side.

“What happened?”

“Run in with a wild boar. It was massive, Banks, he didn’t even see it coming. Just ran right into him,” said Cork, nearly in tears. “I tried a tourniquet but he just keeps bleeding.”

“All right, all right. Get the sutures ready, we need everything we’ve got, be quick about it,” Banks shouted down the hill as he hurried them on. Everyone rushed around, most people starting to panic, when Adalira’s strong voice boomed over them, making everyone freeze.

“No. Bring him here,” she said firmly and she rattled off a list of things she needed. Hot water, whatever was clean, as much of it as possible, the cleanest fabric they had, fresh willow sticks, and a list of herbs that only Mab would recognize. She said it all, loudly and firmly, as she laid a blanket out in front of the elder woman’s burrow and motioned for them to set the injured man down. They did so and she casually took up his knife, cutting away the remaining fabric of his pants and tossing it to the side. Someone handed her the requested blanket as the hot water was being delivered and she sliced it into pieces quickly and efficiently.

“Banks, come here. Put pressure here, all of your weight,” she said, folding a piece and placing it atop the wound. Banks knelt beside her and did as told, the man crying out and squirming beneath the firm touch to such a painful wound. “Someone hold him down if the fool insists on moving,” Adalira snapped. Cork and another jumped to.

Banks watched in fascination as she took a number of the herbs Mab brought to her and tossed them in the water, giving it a quick stir and letting it sit while she demanded a mortar and pestle, both of which Mab had thoughtfully gathered. Adalira was meticulous as she added plants, both dried and fresh, carefully adding in bit by bit with calm focus and grinding them together to create a thick and fragrant paste. She set it aside and examined the water, obviously deeming it worthy as she tossed in a few strips of cloth.

“We have the branches,” a woman announced, holding out the pieces.

“Stick the larger ones in the fire and leave…these out,” she said, looking up briefly and pointing out a few. The women did as told.

“What are you doing?” Banks asked, brow furrowed.

“Saving your man’s life. Is your pressure firm?”

“I don’t think it can be firmer.”

“It can always be firmer. Let me see it,” she said, pressing her hands over his. He moved them and she briefly lifted the blood-soaked cloth. “Tsk, not enough. Press again and focus, lean into it,” she said as he replaced his hands. He did and she moved back to the project she had going on the side. Banks tried to focus solely on staunching the blood, but couldn’t help but look up when she grabbed his hip and took his knife.

“Hey.”

“Focus,” she snapped. He silenced. She ran the blade through the flames a few times and used the sterile edge to carefully chip away at the branches, adding some to the water and some to her thick mixture, grinding it in. When it seemed like everything was set, she turned back to the man’s leg and again checked.

It must have been adequate because next thing Banks knew he was holding the man’s legs as she pressed a glowing branch right into the laceration. He screamed and Cork quickly stuffed the edge of his fur into his mouth. Adalira tossed the stick aside and leaned in close, examining the wound thoroughly. It had nearly stopped bleeding, a light seeping all that remained, and she visibly relaxed, the rest of her motions becoming casual.

Banks looked from her to the wound, examining her nimble, blood-covered hands as she went about cleaning it with one of the soaking cloths. “Well?”

“He’ll be fine, obviously. It’s a nasty gash, but should heal fine. Just need to keep it clean so as to avoid infection, but my poultice should keep that from happening anyhow. He’s lucky. Any deeper or further over and he wouldn’t have even made it back to camp. He’ll need extra rations and plenty of rest for a few days at least,” she explained calmly as she worked. Everyone just sat in stunned silence. She was unperturbed.

“Do you need any more help?” Banks broke the silence with.

“No. Not until you’ll have to haul him back to your burrow,” she said. He nodded and looked around, silently giving everyone the okay to disperse. He sat silently beside her, watching the careful way she cleaned the wound, so thorough and precise.

“Where did you learn to do this? I’ve never seen a wound treated this way.”

She shrugged, an almost elegant lift and drop of a slender shoulder. “My Mother.”

“Was she a healer?”

“She’s a survivor,” she replied. Banks nodded even though he wasn’t completely sure what she meant. She coated the wound in a decent helping of her poultice and wrapped it tightly, the man long-since passed out from the pain and exhaustion.

“He’ll need to be woken up shortly and forced to eat and drink. He might be sick to his stomach a bit, but force it on him anyway. I’m finished,” she said, and she stood, casually walking away from the site. Banks watched her go a moment before having one of his healthy men help him move the injured into place and helping Mab clean up a bit. He followed Adalira up the gully and into the trees, watching as she kicked fresh snow over the blood-soaked in an attempt to mask it. He didn’t speak as he followed her deeper until they came to a spring. She cracked the ice and dipped her hands into freezing water to clean them.

“Who are you really?” he asked again, stopping behind her.

She sighed. “Just a poor village girl who happens to be very good looking. Or so I’m told.”

“Adalira.” She looked back at him, almost startled to hear her name. “Thank you.”

She shifted. “Well I wasn’t going to just let him die. That would be irresponsible of me.”

“But it wasn’t your responsibility. I should have been able to handle it as their leader.”

“It’s not as if you have the same knowledge of wound treating as I do.”

“Which is amazing, really,” he said honestly.

Adalira stared at him and frowned. “I prefer if you’d continue being cruel to me,” she said plainly.

He scowled. “Why?”

“It’ll be easier,” she mumbled. He questioned her, but she ignored him, choosing instead to clean away blood on her legs and dress.

He stayed with her until she was finished, moving away only to kick more snow over the bloody trail. When they returned it was to everyone by Mab’s burrow, waiting patiently. Adalira seemed hesitant to approach and Banks was shocked right along with her when everyone offered up a few things. The women had found a spare dress, thicker and made for the winter weather; the men offered one of the pillows from her wagon. Real shoes were supplied from somewhere and an offer of a ration all her own.

“Thank you,” she mumbled humbly, accepting the gifts. “I’ll take everything but the rations. Give those to the injured man for now. I can do without until his strength returns.”

Everyone fidgeted. “It wouldn’t be right to let you go hungry.”

“I won’t starve,” she insisted, and she ducked inside to change.

Mab shook her head. “She’s strange, so very strange, but I have no doubt in my mind that Rigger would be dead if she weren’t here. The Gods sent her to us, I know it,” she said softly to Banks.

“What sort of oddities have you noticed?” he asked.

Mab shrugged. “I mean…nothing too strange. But…she never seems cold, never hungers, hasn’t fallen ill. She meditates often at night. And then…one minute she seems so frail, but just like now her words get strong and you can’t help but listen to her. She doesn’t seem frail,” she said, voice getting lower as she spoke.

Banks hummed. He’d never heard of anyone like that. Then again, he’d never been out of their village, never met anyone new, so it stood to reason that someone, a strange woman with a strange personality, would puzzle him so.

“Thank Rhian for sending her, then. Make an offering.”

“Perhaps she was sent by Temina, Goddess of Health,” Mab suggested.

Banks shrugged. “Whomever you want to thank, Mab. I’m just generally grateful,” he said, and he wandered away to check on Rigger.

Cork was there watching over the barely conscious man, forcing him to drink water even though he wasn’t the slightest bit interested. The exhausted man looked up as Banks stepped in and gave a weak smile.

“How are you, Rigger?” Banks asked, leaning over him. The man looked at him through half-lidded eyes and faded in and out. “Well, alive anyway.”

Cork shook his head. “I’ve never seen…anything like that,” he said.

“What, a boar attack?”

Cork tsked. “Treating a wound like that. It was so…aggressive. And she did it so easily. Didn’t even bat an eye. I dare say even Mab would have fainted, or been sick. But that frail thing just…like it was nothing…” he shook his head and rubbed his face.

Banks sighed and grabbed his shoulder, giving a firm squeeze to reassure him. “Go ahead and get cleaned up, rest. You’ve been through a lot. I’ll take care of Rigger for a bit.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Cork nearly sighed in relief and crawled out of the burrow, Banks taking his place and watching Rigger closely. Each time the man stirred he tried to force water and food onto him, little by little. It took awhile, but eventually he accepted without fuss.

Night drew near and a light tap at the door had him jumping awake. He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep and kicked himself, crawling over to the door. Adalira was there, looking calm and collected as usually, though better dressed. “Hello,” he mumbled.

“Is he awake?” Straight to business.

“Somewhat.”

She nodded and held out a cup of water, slightly tinted a light green from what he could see in the dim firelight. “Give him this. It’s better if he takes all of it, but he doesn’t have to. It will help with the pain.”

Banks hummed and took it. “Thanks.” She nodded. “Is…will he be all right? Honestly?”

Adalira shrugged. “I don’t see why not. So long as it’s cleaned at least once a day and he doesn’t keep cooped up constantly. More food, fresh air, plenty of water and that drink. I’ll keep an eye on the wound and when he’s ready he can start walking on it. He should be just fine, if with a slight gimp.”

Banks sighed. “You really did save his life, Adalira. I’ll not make light of that.”

Again, she shrugged. “As you wish. Good night,” she said, and she stood, trudging through the snow and back for the elder’s burrow. Banks watched her leave, puzzled over this woman’s strange existence.

**
As promised, Adalira took fine care of Rigger. She was direct, demanding access to him the same time every day to clean and dress his wound and feed to him whatever painkiller she concocted. As Rigger became more and more aware of the situation he became increasingly flustered as well. Banks didn’t blame him. A beautiful woman was working with a wound quite high up on his leg. He imagined he’d be bashful, too. But despite how nervous and tense Rigger would get, how he’d flirt awkwardly now and then, Adalira remained strict and curt, working quickly and efficiently without so much as blushing.

By the end of the week the chance for poor weather lessened further and it was back to patrol and watch posts for the able-bodied men. Banks traded with Cork for the night watch, deciding to give the man the warmer day shift for the remainder of the winter. Cork didn’t complain.

The nights were quiet and the skies clear, the atmosphere more relaxing than Banks should have allowed for himself. But he couldn’t help basking in the soft glow of the moon, watching the stars twinkle merrily despite the horrors occurring daily.

It was a familiar sound that had him pulled back to earth, body tensing as he strained his ears to hear it again. The faint crunch of footsteps on hard snow met him and adrenaline surged through his body. No one should be out walking around at this time of night. Instantly, the thought that some intruder would find the camp had him on his feet and quietly stalking after the footsteps.
He hadn’t expected to see Adalira trudging through the snow.

She was barefoot and in her original dress, the thin fabric billowing about her beneath the fur she still wore over her shoulders. She had a knife in one hand and a rabbit dangling from the other. It was alive, but didn’t struggle. Her face was set as she moved, wandering further and further away from camp, unbothered by the icy breeze that had Banks shivering as he crept after her.

Adalira paused in a clearing where the full moon was clearly visible and set down the knife and the rabbit. Banks stood completely still, watching in fascination as the creature stayed where she put it. Banks flushed then as he looked back to her as she stripped, setting the fur down neatly and letting her dress fall from her shoulders. He was only a little disappointed that her back was to him. Kneeling on the fur, she raised her hands to the sky, offering a mumbled prayer that he couldn’t hear across the distance. His breath hitched as she gathered the rabbit and he watched on even though he knew what was coming.

Blood sprayed the white snow, the rabbit not uttering a sound as she expertly sliced, the spray of life blossoming out from her like a fan. A part of Banks was ill at, but nothing prepared him for the sight of Adalira dipping her fingers into the warm blood and smearing it like war paint across her pale skin. Lines on her face and down her breasts; strange symbols on her shoulders and chest. Lines were drawn up her thighs and she went still for what felt like an eternity.

Banks held his breath, standing as still as stone. A tendril of dark brown hair escaped the mess tucked under his hood and irritated his face, but he didn’t dare move to even tuck it away. He didn’t dare take his eyes off of her.

A snap behind him had him whipping around, eyes scanning the darkness, almost panicking as his hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. He waited several breaths, seeing and hearing nothing further, before turning back to Adalira, blood going cold when he found that she was not there.

Cold steel pressed to his throat and he froze.

“I should kill you.”

Her voice was icy, like cold death threatening to envelope his mind and choke the air from his lungs. Banks shifted his eyes down, gulping at the cold grey pools that glared daggers, the dark red of blood making them even paler, her skin as white as the moon. She looked wild and deadly.

He moved to draw his sword and his horror only increased as she reached out and swung down, snapping the sword from his hip and replacing the knife at his throat faster than he could blink. She held the weapon away and Banks took to holding up his hands instead.

“W-why would you want to kill me? What have I done?” he gulped.

“I walked forever hoping you’d stop following me and leave me to my own devices. But of course you’d be so stubborn and trail me the whole while. Even watching, the ritual had to be done. So now, by a very vague rule, I should bleed you dry for witnessing such a thing. Just as well, it went poorly with only the rabbit’s blood, whose sacrifice was much appreciated,” she hissed, voice colder than the icy wind that breathed slowly across the sweat cropped on his brow.

“W-what ritual?”

“None that’s for you to know!” she snapped, glaring at him, almost snarling. They stood that way for what felt like an eternity, Adalira honestly trying to decide if she wanted to kill him or not. Banks prayed silently to Rhian, asking the All Goddess forgiveness for whatever it was he’d done and begging for his life to be spared. He wondered briefly if Adalira’s cold eyes were the last thing he’d see in life.

Finally, the woman seemed to relax and after considering him a moment more, eyes softening, she pulled back the knife and tossed his sword at his feet. He considered it a moment and she simply chuckled. “If you want to draw it and fight me, by all means. You may even have my knife. I don’t need it to kill you, but I will say that steel lends a quicker death,” she said, smirking. Her teeth looked briefly like fangs.

Banks gulped and reached up, rubbing the spot on his throat and pulling his hand back to see if there was blood. “I’m…I’m not going to fight you.”

“A wise decision.”

He stared at her a moment and cautiously knelt to gather his sword, tying together the tattered strings so it was at his hip once more. Adalira watched his every move, but strolled away as he fussed to gather her things. He stayed behind as she took a moment to clean the blood from her body with snow, replacing the dress and fur and taking up the rabbit to bring back. At least she wasn’t going to waste it.

They walked together back to his post.

“Who are you…” he whispered.

Adalira sighed and glanced up at him briefly. “I am a Daughter of Nyx.” Banks’ blood ran cold and he stopped dead. “You heard right.” He nearly fainted.

“But…what…a Daughter of…how…” he stammered.

She smirked. “Deep breath now, Banks. You’re still alive.”

“Why?”

“Be more specific, please.”

“Why are you here?”

She laughed, the timid, gentle façade completely gone, revealing an easy confidence that nearly cowed him completely. “I’m not supposed to be here, am I? I was supposed to be in Averanth weeks ago. But your little band of rebels intervened and hauled me away so brutally. My plans were changed quite abruptly. Or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t,” he mumbled. He’d only just begun to feel bad about how cruel he’d been, but now it seemed irrelevant. “So…you let them capture you.”

“Correct.”

“You could have easily…”

“Killed them all? Of course. They wouldn’t have even seen it coming, to be perfectly honest.”

Banks felt sick and paused a moment, leaning against a tree. “Why did you spare us?” He didn’t know why he asked. He honestly didn’t want it answered, but she seemed eager to flaunt her deadliness, a cold grin on her face.

“My plans had changed anyhow. Besides…the Daughters don’t kill unless Nyx has assigned it. If it had been a Son, then your entire camp would be quiet and frozen. You’re all quite lucky,” she said, as though making sure he knew for sure.

Banks sighed and slid to the ground, rubbing at his face. To think that this whole time they’d been sheltering one of the deadliest people in their nation. A Daughter of Nyx, twin sister of Nox, the God and Goddess of the night and dark justice. He understood the blood then. Blood was their life-force, Nyx and Nox. If one wished to contact the dark deities, a blood sacrifice was necessary above all else.

Each deity had a cult, the only cult truly feared by anyone. Nyx had her daughters and Nox had his sons, all very deadly assassins. He’d never heard of anyone besting a son or daughter unless they were already on their death bed and unable to defend themselves. But the cousins didn’t fear death. Banks had heard stories that in order to be accepted into their bosom the sons and daughters had to face death, face their Mother or Father, and prove to them that they were worthy. It was no simple task. Knowing that this frail, seemingly weak and innocent woman had been to death’s door, been face to face with Nyx, made her incredibly terrifying.

Adalira sighed and sat beside him, looking much calmer again, that indifferent, composed air replacing itself. It did little to temper his fear of her. Banks would forever be terrified of her.

“So…your healing techniques?”

“All Sons and Daughters learn it. Sometimes we’re forced to care for wounds on our own,” she explained casually.
Banks’ eyes widened. “You’ve done that to yourself?” He couldn’t imagine the pain.

Adalira shrugged and reached under the fur, tossing off a shoulder, and pulled the wide neck of the dress down over her arm. She showed no hesitation, no timidity at baring a breast in the process, and pointed a slender finger at a very pale, barely there scar on her rib cage. “My very first contract. I made sure he died slowly,” she said, pulling the dress back up.

Banks hummed. “And…you’re obvious…disregard for the cold?” he asked, blushing and clearing his throat.

She smirked. “I was born with the Blessing of Pyral.”

“God of the Sun?” She nodded. “Is that why Nyx chose you?”

Adalira shrugged. “Some of my sisters think so. Others think it’s more to do with my appearance. After all, who would ever suspect such a frail and delicate beauty to be a ruthless killer?” she said mockingly, a sly grin on her soft lips.

Banks sighed and rubbed at his throat again. “And…the bride of Onarch bit?”

“Oh that was true,” she said plainly.

Banks coughed. “What?”

Adalira was silent for a moment, staring up at the moon, Nyx’ symbol. “Nyx assigned him to me. We all knew it was coming. There was no way a monster like him wouldn’t catch her attention. We were just waiting patiently for it to happen. We all hoped a Son would get him, and so did they, but the duty fell to me. We came up with the plan quickly, hearing of a nearby city who’s Lord had offered his daughter to Onarch in exchange for fair treatment of his people. It didn’t take much for us to convince him to present me as his daughter instead. Everything was going well until the last full moon when I had to perform the ritual. I snuck away from the camp, killed the soldier the commanding officer had sent to follow me, and when I returned and he didn’t, I’m certain the commanding officer knew something. Nyx sent a raven to me, warning me that our plan was not going to succeed. I had a feeling that something would be waiting for me at Averanth…but then your men attacked my caravan and here I am,” she said, giving him a small grin.

Banks hummed, mind trying desperately to organize the situation, trying in vain not to be absolutely terrified. “So why are you still here?”

“I’m waiting for my sign. The ritual did not go well tonight, so I was unable to contact Nyx or my sisters. So, I will have to stay here until the time is right, even if that means waiting for the next full moon.” She sighed and looked back at Banks, giving him a sly grin as she reached out, her delicate fingers playing through the scruff at his chin. “I can trust that you won’t go about advertising this to the rest of your group. Otherwise you’ll force me to do something very unpleasant. I’d rather not kill them, if it’s all the same to you.”

He gulped and nodded. “It’s all the same to me.”

“Good. So, Mab’s told me the story of your village. Chased out by the White Legion, how your numbers have thinned, how you came to be here. But I’m more interested in you. What sort of name is Banks?”

He sighed and fidgeted, confused over the sudden change of atmosphere, from terrifying to casually pleasant. “I was…found as an infant on the banks of the Yusif River, just outside our village.”

Adalira hummed. “Wouldn’t naming you Yusif have been more appropriate?”

He shrugged. “I’ve thought that, but Banks suits me well enough. I’m not very interesting.”

“Oh? What did you do in this village? Was it Mab who raised you?”

Banks nodded. “Myself, Cork, and a couple of the women. I did whatever was needed. I don’t have any useful talents,” he said, rubbing again at his face. He sighed heavily. “Perhaps you ought to head back?”

Adalira chuckled. “And who would watch over you in your frazzled state?”

“I’ll remain in this frazzled state as long as you’re near,” he said. Adalira’s smirk vanished. “I’m not even completely sure I trust you to stay in our camp.”

In a blink Adalira’s hand was around his throat, pressing and choking with a force he hadn’t expected from such a small woman. Her eyes were cold again when he looked to them in alarm, hands gripping her slender arm, feeling the taught muscle.

“Like I said, Banks, I’d rather not kill any of you. But if you compromise me, I will. I told you the story so that when the time comes and I leave, should my sisters come looking for me, you have something to tell them. You would be the one they’d corner,” she said, snapping her hand back and getting to her feet. Banks hacked and coughed, bringing his own hands to his throat to ease the pain.

“W-why?” he managed, all his fear back as he looked up at her.

“Because you have a Blessing. Though I’m not sure from whom. Goodnight,” she said stiffly, and she casually sauntered back to camp, rabbit dangling from a hand.  

[oOGarrettOo]

**
It was nearly noon when Banks’ turn was over and he marched wearily back to camp, rubbing at his sore throat, his head aching from the stress of the night. The camp was awake and bustling about in the warmer weather, the snow finally beginning to melt, and he slipped slightly on his way down the hill.

“Welcome back,” said Mab, looking up as he neared.

“Yes, yes. Everyone here well this morning?” he asked curtly, accepting the lukewarm bowl of soup. The smell of rabbit wafted up and he frowned a little.

Mab smiled. “Very. Look who’s up and about.” She nodded her head towards the men’s burrow and Banks looked up, his frown softened at seeing Rigger on his feet, an older man supporting him and Adalira gently coaxing and leading. He sighed and gulped down the small portion of soup, his belly barely sated.

Mab hummed. “Are you feeling all right? You seem rather ill.”

“Just tired. I underestimated how cold it would be last night,” he mumbled.

She nodded. “Well then, get some rest. Keep your strength up.” He inclined his head and marched towards the group in front of his burrow.

“You look well, Rigger,” he mumbled when he was near enough.

The exhausted man looked up and gave a weak smile. “It’s nice to be on my feet…but I’m still unsure if the pain is worth it,” he mumbled.

“It will pass in time. The wound is mending nicely,” said Adalira. She looked up at Banks and the look in her eyes sent a chill down his spine. “Welcome back.”

“Yes, welcome back,” he mumbled. The two men looked at him oddly. “I’m going to sleep. Wake me when it’s time for my watch again,” he grumbled and he hurried into the burrow to burry himself under his blankets. He didn’t sleep well, however. His dreams always ended with a pale woman covered in blood, the look of death in her eyes.

“Banks. Banks!” He snapped awake, Cork shaking a shoulder. “Hey…are you all right?”

Banks huffed and sat up, rubbing at his face wearily. “What?”

“You were having a fit in your sleep. Are you all right?”

“Just a bad dream.” He sat silently a moment, brow furrowing at the muffled sound of melodic tune. “What’s that?”

“What? Oh… the harp. That woman, she found Eulace’s old harp, that one she’s insisted we haul along. She’s been playing it for most of the day now, not that anyone’s complaining. Put me right to sleep, everyone seems a bit happier. You should go listen, she’s right outside Mab’s burrow,” said Cork, stretching back out, intending to sleep a bit longer. Banks hummed and sighed moving sluggishly as he rolled out of the blankets and furs and bundled up.

It was just after dusk, stars starting to appear through the boughs of the trees and a faint glow on the horizon. The soft strumming of the harp filled the gully and he wondered briefly if it would carry to the road. He didn’t suppose it would matter all that much.

As Cork had said, nearly everyone in the camp was gathered around Mab’s burrow, receiving their meals and listening quietly to Adalira’s playing. She was dressed again and sat on a spare bench one of the older men had made when they’d set up camp there. Banks approached and was handed a bowl, eyes watching her nimble fingers pluck at strings, her temple resting against the harp that leaned against her. Her eyes were closed and face soft. Banks studied its planes, the way firelight danced off the gentle curves of her cheek and jaw, almost flickering right along with the music. He wondered briefly if perhaps the fire was attuned to her thanks to Pyral’s Blessing.

It was amazing how relaxed the gentle music made him in her presence despite how terrified he’d been the night before. He sat with everyone else in the snow, eating slowly and lulled gently into a peaceful state, just watching. When she opened her eyes and fixed them right on him he paused and his heart skipped. She smiled softly and he knew then why Nyx had chosen her. She could enchant anyone, lull them into a false sense of safety at her side, but beneath that warm veneer was a cold death just waiting to be bestowed.

A part of him decided he wouldn’t mind death so terribly if it were she to provide it.

When she started singing, however, he decided to escape before she trapped him forever, downing his meager meal quickly and hurrying off to his post. A couple hours in to his watch had him wishing he hadn’t rushed off quite so quickly. The night was cold and he could have done with an extra fur, which he would have considered if he’d focused on anything but Adalira for a few seconds.

“You’re mad, Banks. She could rip your heart out with her bare hands…and then she’d probably eat it in her soup,” he mumbled bitterly to himself.

“I’m going to assume you’re talking about me.”

He jumped, heart in his throat as he whipped around and stared at Adalira, standing behind him with an amused grin on her face. He hadn’t even heard her approaching.

“And I only assume such because I’m the only woman in that camp capable of actually ripping out anyone’s heart.”

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, pretending his instant blush was because of the cold and nothing else.

“You ran away from me.”

“And that displeases you?” he snapped.

She tsked. “What if it had been a ballad for you?” He scowled and she laughed. “Relax. I only came to give you this.” She held out a cup, the sound of water sloshing against the sides.

He looked at it warily. “What is it?”

“Just something to help with your aches. Mab mentioned to me this morning that you looked ill and the look in your eyes suggests something pains you. It’s a light blend, so you won’t feel tired or numb,” she said simply. The words were sincere, as was the gentle look in her eyes. He sighed and took it, gulping it down and passing the cup back to her.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He stared at her, standing so calmly, as though completely unaffected by the icy breeze that whistled its way through the trees. “You know…since you’re…blessed by Pyral and all…would you mind terribly if I took that fur back? Just for the night?”

She frowned. “Are you very cold?”

Another breeze whipped past and he shivered. “Getting there. Only get colder as the night wares on,” he grumbled. He hadn’t expected Adalira to straddle his lap and slip her hands beneath the cloak and fur he already wore. Unexpected heat blossomed out across his skin from where her hands touched and he gasped, hands flying to her wrists in shock.

“I can warm you much better than any amount of cloth or fur,” she whispered against his lips. She slid a hand from its place on his chest up his neck to his jaw, the heat from her fingers causing a delightful shiver to ripple through him.

He sighed. “You think you can tempt me?” he rumbled lowly.

She chuckled against his mouth, the heated puffs of air teasing his skin. “I think I’m well beyond tempting you, Banks.” She sat back, pulling her wrists free easily. Banks followed her hands to her throat where she elegantly unclasped the makeshift frog holding the fur shut, as elegant as such a thing could be, and she pushed the heavy object away. He was transfixed, drawing her closer as her fingers worked at the lace to her winter dress, a hand moving up to push through sinfully soft hair. Adalira didn’t keep him waiting, closing the distance between them to press a feather-light kiss to his lips, purposely teasing him. He felt her hands slide across his shoulder, pushing away his cloaks as they kissed softly, his free hand sliding up and down her back, carefully mapping the graceful curve of her body.

Adalira laughed softly against his lips. “How unexpectedly gentle. Or perhaps it’s merely hesitancy?” she teased.

He smirked, continuing the gentle motion. “Honestly, I’m still afraid you’ll kill me.”

At that, Adalira laughed honestly, the sound completely out of place, and Banks flushed as she grabbed his hands and forced them to her breasts, grabbing his face firmly in her hands and pulling him to her. “Trust me, killing you isn’t what I had in mind.” Any retort he’d been formulating was ripped away from him as she forced their mouths together in a brutal and commanding kiss.


Banks sighed, completely content as he stretched beneath the clothes covering them, eyes languidly roaming the woods, looking for anything amiss. His arm was curled around Adalira’s slim waist, her creamy bare skin truly warming him better than even a decent fire could. He was spent and exhausted, and her gentle petting did nothing to help keep him awake.

“You may sleep if you like. I’d spot an intruder well before you anyway,” she whispered to him teasingly.

He grinned. “I’m perfectly capable of completing my watch.”

“If you insist. At least you won’t be cold.”

“They’ll rip my head off if they heard what I was up to while on duty. I’d been the one to insist that watch was to be done at full attention.”

Adalira laughed. “You’re a fool if you think you’re the only one to break that rule. I hear women sneak off every night and watch them slip away every day, all while their ruthless leader isn’t watching. Besides, your attention was fully focused,” she teased.

Banks chuckled. “You’re…very honest.”

“Well if you’re looking for a delicate, bashful lover then you should solicit one of your other camp dwellers. What about Cork? I’m sure he’d be unbelievably bashful.”

Banks laughed. “Do you not like Cork?”

“Cork dislikes me and I have no reason to feel any sort of emotion towards him.”

“He doesn’t really.”

She laughed. “I’m certain he’d still see me dead.”

Banks shrugged. “Don’t let it bother you.”

“I already told you I don’t.”

Silence stretched on comfortably between them, Banks lazily watching and Adalira dozing. He sighed and played with her hair a bit, going over the multitude of questions he’d wanted to ask her since the night before.

“You said I have a Blessing…How do you know?” he asked.

Adalira hummed. “Those of us with Blessings…we tend to be drawn to one another. Didn’t you feel it when you saw me? I knew instantly you were touched by one divinity or another,” she mumbled into his shoulder, head resting comfortably.

He looked up towards the waning moon and considered it. There had been something when he’d first seen her, but he’d chalked it up to being a lack of fine women in his life. Perhaps it had been more. “But you don’t know what it is?”

“No. It’s not something so obvious, like my heat.”

“I wish you could tell me.” She hummed. “Have you ever met anyone else?”

“Other than a couple of my sisters, yes. A long time ago, when I was very young. A middle aged woman in my village absolutely despised me. She had Tarin’s Blessing, Goddess of Earth. She would always say how I was a bane on the village, dangerous, and she tortured me quite often.” Banks’ arm around her waist tightened protectively and she grinned. “Now, now, I got her back for it.”

“Was there a contract?”

Adalira giggled. “No. I set her barn on fire. It was after that Nyx called to me. The woman tried to smother me in my sleep and one of my sisters rescued me. She’d come in the night to take me to Nyx.”

Banks grinned. “At least she got what she deserved.”

Adalira shrugged. “Neither of us really deserved it. She was right, I am dangerous after all, though how dangerous I was as a child I’ll never know. If she hadn’t been so cruel, I wouldn’t have destroyed her barn,” she said simply. Banks couldn’t help but chuckle. Adalira sighed and stretched. “I should be heading back.”

Banks groaned. “And leave me here to freeze?” he whined.

“That’s what you get for taking the night watch, you bleeding heart,” she teased, throwing off the furs in spite and grinning at Banks’ yelp as the cold air accosted his naked body. “Keep my fur since now you know for sure that I don’t need it.”

He smiled as he quickly dressed. “Tell me if anyone bothers you…about this,” he said.

“Oh of course they will. But what makes you think I’ll be bothered by their bothering?”

“So cocky.”

“Not I.”

He laughed and gathered her, hugging her to him tightly and burying his face in her neck. “I’m glad you haven’t killed me yet.”

“I told you, I like you too much.” He smiled and kissed her and finally she shoved him off, standing and straightening her dress. “There will be other nights, Banks. Don’t become addicted to me.”

“Siren.” She winked in response and wandered off, leaving him to curl up in his cloak and fur, reveling in the night’s happenings.
**
Cheering and merrymaking assaulted Banks come morning when he arrived back at camp, rubbing his face wearily and stretching the pleasant ache out of muscles unfamiliar with use. The hunters were up and out, firing at makeshift targets with arrows the women had been crafting. Those waiting for their turn at watch were there, as were the young women, the practice sport a newfound source of entertainment.

“That was a nice shot.”

“Nah, he missed the center.”

“Only by a hair.”

“Yes, only by a hare!”

Laughter rattled in Banks’ sleep-deprived head and he trudged over, looking far more cross than he intended to. Adalira looked up at him, but her expression was cool indifference, her grey eyes dismissive as she turned her attention back to the archery.

“Good morning, then,” Banks grumbled in response.

Cork looked up, his smile fading. “Aye, Banks, you look terrible. Did something happen on watch last night?” Banks glared at him, but Cork looked up at him innocently enough. If he knew something he wasn’t letting on.

“Hadn’t slept well the day before. I’m not used to the reversed watch yet,” he grumbled. “What’s all this?”

“Dancing lessons,” said one of the hunters, letting loose an arrow with a lovely twang. It thudded into the target cleanly, if not a bit too low.

“Just keeping the boys in practice. They insisted on testing our arrows to be sure they were strong enough for hunting,” said one of the women cheekily, hands working at fletching another such arrow.

“It seems the arrows have passed, but their aim leaves much to be desired,” said Adalira, that cool and pompous lilt back to her voice. Banks smirked.

“That’s something coming from a woman,” said one of the hunters, only half serious.

The other women giggled. “She’s only saying it out loud. None of you have made a shot worthy of a kill.”

“Better than you.”

The woman scoffed, grinning broadly. “And how about we make you put together your own arrows!”

“I’d bet that none of you could even hit a target!” teased Rigger.

“Since it’s rabbits and other game you’re after, a stationary target won’t do any of you much good,” said Adalira.

Cork humphed. “Think you can do better?” Adalira regarded him coolly. “You talk like you know all there is to hunting and archery, which I find hard to believe since you’re a manor-raised brat.”

“That’s enough, Cork,” Banks snapped without thinking. The lot looked up at him oddly. “No reason to be so rude.”

“There shouldn’t be a double standard simply because she’s a woman. If she wants to eat then she should respect our hunters,” he bit. Banks looked to Adalira, worried, but she seemed unperturbed.

“It’s just a bit of banter, Cork,” said Rigger.

“It’s one thing for our own to tease one another, but what’s she done to pull her own weight?” Cork continued. Rigger scowled and looked down at his mended leg as though it were obvious. Cork flushed. “She has no place mocking those who feed her.”

“I think you’re taking it a bit hard,” said one of the women.

“I’m saying it how I see it,” Cork snapped. He sighed at all the accusatory stares and huffed, getting to his feet and snatching a bow and arrow. “Tell you what. If you can hit the center on your first go…I’ll give you my dinner for a week. If not, you give me yours.”

“Now that’s enough, Cork, you’re being ridiculous,” said Banks.

“No.” Adalira piped. They looked over to her. “I’ll accept his challenge.” Cork smirked triumphantly and Banks looked on, worried. “On one condition, however,” she said, standing and moving onto the range.

Cork snorted. “What, we move closer?”

“We do it blindfolded,” Adalira quipped plainly. Cork’s face fell and the group shared surprised glances amongst itself.

“Blindfolded? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?” asked Banks, wishing she’d change her mind about the whole thing.

“Well it’d be a real challenge, then, wouldn’t it? Especially since Cork doesn’t do any hunting himself and hasn’t used a bow in months, am I correct?” she said, holding out her hand for said object. One of the hunters handed it over and she took her place.

Cork glared but stepped up anyway. “I hunt every few days! If it’s blindfolding you want, then blindfolded it’ll be.”

“C’mon, now, this is foolish,” said Rigger.

“He’s right now, there’s no need to go on about proving yourself,” said one of the women.

Adalira sighed in annoyance. “What nonsense,” she snapped and she nocked her arrow, pulling back with an inhale and loosing the projectile with an exhale, one beautifully smooth motion. The arrow thudded firmly within the red center of the target. Everyone stared and Banks was almost shocked to see that it was a bit high.

Adalira sighed and handed the bow back to the hunter she’d borrowed. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll go ahead and return to doing womanly things, such as making medicine and saving lives. Enjoy your days,” she grumbled and she marched off, ignoring Banks completely as she made her way to Mab’s burrow.

Banks sighed in frustration. “Cork, on your watch. Now,” he said firmly, obviously irritated. Cork scowled, but stormed off, tossing the bow to the ground.

“I knew he didn’t like her, but I’ve never seen him that childish,” said Rigger quietly when Cork had disappeared into the trees.
Banks waved him off. “I know it’ll be difficult for all of you, but let this go. The last thing we need is for him to be any more irritated. Get back to what you were doing,” he said, his voice lacking any feeling. Everyone just mumbled in acquiescence and turned back to their projects at hand. Banks marched over to Mab’s burrow and stopped beside Adalira where the woman knelt at a stone press, grinding away at herbs.

“Was that necessary?” he hissed. Adalira gave him an icy look and he sighed. “May I have some breakfast?” She grabbed a bowl and ladled a ration of soup, passing it off to him and turning back to her work. He sat, accepting her silence, and ate.

“Any aches?” she asked after a moment.

“Plenty, but none I’m displeased about.” She glared at him, but he caught the slight grin she attempted to hide. Gulping down the remnants of the bowl, he ran a handful of snow through it to rinse it and set it aside. “Perhaps now I’ll sleep.”

“Sleep well, then,” she said. He hummed and hurried off to the men’s burrow to rest, the other watchmen just arriving and shifts switching out.

The remainder of winter wore on in relatively the same manner. Banks remained on the night shift, of which Adalira would occasionally join him, and in the morning when he returned she treated him indifferently and no one let on that they knew what the two shared. He asked her one night how she could be so sweet to him in the night, but so cold in the day, but Adalira didn’t answer, losing the question in a kiss.

It was to more of Cork’s ranting that Banks returned to camp to after one of those blissful evenings, and he groaned, quickening his pace.

“—and all of you just trust her, let her do whatever because of one heroic act. Has anyone questioned what she’s been giving him!? She could be poisoning him, the b***h!” Cork shouted. Banks watched him shove her, Adalira allowing herself to be pushed to the ground, cold mud spattering her from the melting snow and he was on the man in a blink, pushing him back.

“What the hell are you doing!?”

Cork glared and the camp went still. “The b***h has been poisoning Rigger,” he insisted.

“Bullshit. It’s thanks to her he’s even alive. Why would she go through all that trouble just to kill him herself?”

“I’m saying what I see. He was fine a few days ago, even starting to walk on his own, and she started giving him more and more of whatever that herbal drink is and each time he takes it it’s like he’s completely drained. If she’s supposed to be healing him, wouldn’t he be even better by now?”

“His wound started to look infected. I had to increase the herbs I was giving and it’s made him tired,” said Adalira.

“How could it be infected when you insist on smearing it with that potion and cleaning it a hundred times a day?” Cork accused.

“The water may not have been clean enough for one of the dressings. With the snow melting there’s no telling what’s in it,” said Adalira, pushing mud from her person.

“You liar!”

“Enough, Cork, that’s enough!” said Banks, grabbing him as he moved forward and pushing him back further.

Cork glared. “What, now you’re defending her? Just because you have your way with her every night, now she means more to you than the well being of your people?” Banks stammered and Cork scoffed. “Did you think no one knew? It’s not like the whore tried to hide it.”

Banks punched him square in the jaw and grabbed Cork as he stumbled back, drawing him up. “Shut up, Cork, just shut up. If you value your life at all, you’ll bite your ******** tongue,” he hissed angrily.

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, you bloody fool, I’m trying to save your life!” he practically whispered, glancing back at Adalira.

“What the ******** are you on about?”

“Stop. Now. She’s not trying to kill him. But I swear to Rhian, Cork, if you don’t stop right now, you might be the one dead,” he whispered, begging the man to understand.

Cork scoffed and shoved him off. “I can’t believe this. You’re seriously choosing her?”

“This isn’t about choosing one over another, Cork.”

“Well it bloody looks like it is.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Banks,” Adalira’s voice cut sharply through their argument. He stopped at hearing it, the cautious cadence unnerving, and he turned to her. She was staring towards the tree line, grey eyes narrowed, seeing everything. He opened his mouth to question her, but suddenly she was upon him, a fist in his cloak, and she shoved him back, an arrow whizzing through the narrow space between them.

It happened quickly. Before he could even register what was going on, Adalira grabbed the knife and sword from his belt, tossed off her borrowed cloak, and darted up the gully wall and into the trees. The villagers were all panicking as more arrows were shot in, screaming and running, a couple hit and quickly dragged to the safety of the burrows. Banks barely heard himself call for a sword, but Cork was there, an extra in hand, and they and the other able men ran after her.

What they found had Banks’ blood running cold.

One dead Legion soldier, the one with the bow, bled out on the remaining snow. They ran a little further, and found two more, the killing wounds expertly delivered, their deaths obviously quick. Further yet revealed a third, a struggle visible, as if he’d tried to escape. When they reached the clearing Banks stopped and held out his arms, stopping Cork and the others, all of them instantly paling.

“You can tell me what I want to know and I can kill you quickly, or you can continue to be stubborn and I’ll make your death last. Really it’s up to you as I’m very angry,” Adalira seethed, holding the man against a tree. He was terribly injured, blood dripping from him steadily.

“He was right,” the soldier croaked.

Adalira chuckled, that icy, evil sound that sent shivers up Banks’ spine. “Yes he was, that perceptive captain of yours. But perhaps one of my cousins has already done him in. So, speak.”

“Never.”

She slammed the knife into his throat, the sharp blade cutting right through and sinking into the tree behind him. She stepped back and he hung there, choking and drowning in his own blood. Banks felt faint and heard at least one of his men be sick behind him, Cork half disappearing as he dropped to his knees.

Adalira turned around and fixed her icy eyes on them. She was covered in blood, a fresh spray dripping down her face from the man she’d just killed, making her appear even more sinister. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”

Banks gaped. “I…” What was there to say?

“You of all people should have known not to follow me. Damnit,” she hissed and finally Banks noticed something wasn’t right. He watched her hand go up to a particularly blood-soaked shoulder to see a short bolt, the sharp tip just barely poking through the back. He gulped, remembering the power in that arm even still, remembering that knife going so easily through the soldier’s throat.

“Are you all right?” he finally managed, moving forward.

“That’s a dumb question,” she spat and he winced right a long with her as she grabbed the fletched end of the arrow and snapped it off.

“Let me help you,” he insisted, rushing forward.

“It’s done now,” she said, finishing the deed by pulling the rest of it completely through. She tossed it aside and squeezed the hand of the injured side. “And I’d so been hoping I wouldn’t have any more scars.”

Banks grabbed her gently, despite her protests, and nearly panicked over the rivulets of blood still dripping from the wound. “We have to hurry and get you back to camp.”

“Hurry or not, I’ll live,” she mumbled, but to him she already looked rather ashen.

“We need to put pressure on it. Cork, do you…” But when he looked back at Cork, the man looked in no shape to help anyone. Neither did the other two. They all three stared at her, faces pale, visibly shaking, and when Banks moved forward with her, they moved back.

“D-demon…” Cork whispered.

“Such a fool,” Adalira spat weakly. She wavered and Banks panicked.

“Get yourselves together, will you!?” he spat at his men.

“Let them be,” she said, irritated. She pushed away from him and stepped back to the now dead man on the tree, good hand going about ripping away bits and pieces. She found a hidden pouch and notes when she was through and by then Banks insisted on carrying her back to camp, his men already well on their way back, no doubt to spread the tale.

Banks slipped down the gully wall, Adalira cursing at him as he jarred her shoulder.

“If I’d known you were going to be this clumsy about it I’d have walked back myself,” she hissed angrily.

“You’re quite mean when you’re injured.”

“Shut up.”

“Mab, get us supplies. She took an arrow to her shoulder,” said Banks, approaching the burrow. At first Mab looked terrified of the approaching couple, but when she saw the state Adalira was in she hopped to, rushing inside to gather tools and implements.

“Put me down, Banks, I don’t need you to fuss over me,” she insisted, squirming in his arms. He set her on her feet and she marched wearily the rest of the way to the healing station, plopping down and digging up some remaining snow. Banks watched silently as she worked at cleaning herself off, a few more wounds visible once the blood was cleared away, but none a match for her shoulder. Slowly, he became aware of the dozens of eyes on them and looked up to see the villagers staring at them, terrified, Cork and the other two tiptoeing about and whispering about the horrifying scene they’d witnessed. Banks scowled.

“Forget it,” Adalira’s voice snapped him back. “Read these, if you don’t mind.” She handed him the notes. He stared at them and carefully unfolded them, trying in vain not to handle the bloody edges, and blinked at the lettering on the page. Adalira looked up expectantly and he flushed. “Oh what?”

“Well what makes you think I can read?” he snapped angrily.

“Well if you can’t then you should just say so instead of carry on. Give it.” She snatched the note and read through it quickly, tossing it to the side and grabbing another, giving it the same treatment. When she reached the third, Mab had returned, carrying the pot for their water and pouches of the herbs Adalira had been working on. Banks soaked a cloth and shifted over to clean her shoulder, just as she tossed the paper to the side.

“What did they say?”

Adalira sighed. “That it’s time for me to leave,” she mumbled.

Banks stopped and looked up at her. “What?”

She shook a piece of paper. “The sign I was waiting for. I have to complete my mission.”

“But…alone?”

Adalira rolled her eyes and snatched the cloth from him, cleaning her wounds with more vigor. “Yes alone. It’s always alone. It’s my contract, I need to complete it, and this time I need to do so before the next full moon. Gods, could they have bled anymore?”

“You did nearly gut them.”

“Yes, yes. Hand me that,” she said, pointing briefly to one of the pouches. Banks grabbed it up, ignoring the terrified Mab, sat off to the side and out of the way. “Besides, I can’t stay here. Not any more.”

Banks nodded in understanding and looked over her shoulder, brow furrowing. “Is…did that…”

“Already start to heal? Yes. Despite her reputation, Nyx takes good care of her daughters.”

Mab gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Nyx…” she whispered. Adalira glanced over at her and Banks thought he’d seen shame in her eyes.

“Yes Nyx. My Dark Mother of Justice.”

Mab patted her chest above her heart. “To think…all this time…sleeping right next to us…”

“Yet she didn’t, did she?” Banks finally snapped. Mab jumped and stared at him. “She didn’t hurt us. Any of us. In fact, she’s done quite the opposite, this ‘demon’ woman. She’s saved our lives, given us new tools, made sure our camp hasn’t been found. And she hasn’t hurt any of us. But you all stand here, acting as if she’ll turn on you like a rabid dog. How ungrateful you’ve all turned out to be.”

“Calm down, Banks. They have a right to be scared. Let them be,” said Adalira, rubbing the powdered herbs over her wounds. Her shoulder had stopped bleeding, but the hole on either side was still open and glaring. She covered it with the dark green substances and let it be, getting to her feet.

“What are you doing?”

“I already told you that I’m leaving. I need to get to Averanth,” she said, briefly wiping at her face. She tossed the useless rag down.

“Let me accompany you,” said Banks.

“I already said no. I can’t waste time watching after you. I’m sorry. Keep your ears open. If I succeed…you’ll be able to go home soon,” she said, and without further hesitation, without even giving him a more personal farewell, she hurried off up the gully in the direction of Averanth, moving as though she were completely unscathed.

The camp was silent. No one moving, barely breathing, all except Banks expecting her to come storming back in and slaughter them. But Banks knew better. She was gone, off to fulfill her contract, whatever it truly was, and he’d never see her again.

“Did you know?” Cork’s voice broke into the silence. Banks froze, but didn’t answer. Cork glowered and stepped forward, giving Banks a shove. “Did you?”

“Yes, all right? Yes. I knew she was a Daughter of Nyx,” he said, shoving Cork back halfheartedly.

“And you kept it to yourself? Did you find out before or after you took her to your bed?”

“That has nothing to do with you, Cork. I’ve known since the last full moon. And you know what happened then? She held a knife to my throat and told me that if I said anything to anyone about who she was she’d silence the entire camp,” Banks revealed.

“And still you let her stay here!?”

“What would you have had me do about her? Do you think anyone in this camp could have bested her? Or do you need to wander back through the tree line to remind yourself exactly what she’s capable of?” he shouted. Cork paled and Banks sighed, pushing his fingers through his hair and shaking his head. “Everyone…pack your things. Bring only what you can carry…This camp is no longer safe, we’ll have to move.”

It didn’t matter that he was the one saying it. They all knew he was right and grudgingly went about the grueling process of picking through their belongings. Carts were dug out, two manageable ones they’d been able to save, and were used mainly for the sick and injured. Their destination was simply as far away from the gully as possible. If anyone went looking for the missing soldiers they’d stumble upon the camp for certain.  

[oOGarrettOo]

They traveled for two days until they ran into another small camp of refugees. There was plenty of room, a fresh spring near by, and when the people were settled, Banks gathered a simple bag and left. No one tried to stop him. As far as they were concerned he was some sort of traitor, knowingly putting them all in harms way by allowing a Daughter of Nyx to stay in their camp.

“Where will you go?” Cork asked, walking him to his new watch post.

Banks shrugged. “I don’t know. Somewhere…anywhere. Wherever.”

“Will you look for her?”

Banks chuckled. “I think if I ever do run into her again, she’ll be there to kill me. Take care of everyone, Cork. Maybe we’ll meet again someday,” he said sadly, and he started off, heading wherever his feet took him, steering clear of Legion outposts. He ran in to camps along the way, of other refugees and hunters, shared in their meals and a safe place to rest, and continued on the next day, just walking. In one camp he acquired a bow and a handful of arrows, allowing him to hunt for himself.

It wasn’t until he traveled through a small, Legion-run town that he heard the news. Onarch was dead. Adalira had succeeded. And if she hadn’t, then at least one of her sisters had. They were free again. His people could return to their village and lead their normal lives.

Banks arrived in Maerth a week after the news of their evil king’s death. He wasn’t sure why he’d traveled to the city, but wasn’t at all surprised to see it was nearly destroyed and overrun by chaos. Adalira had mentioned once that she was a peace offering on the city’s behalf. At some point after her disappearance, Onarch must have sent in a legion to ransack it, as per his end of the bargain. But now, dead Legionnaires lined the road in, stuck up on pikes, the city itself nothing but anarchy. It didn’t mean he was unable to find a decent shelter for the night, comfortable despite the missing wall since spring was well underway and the days had been warm and dry.

He sighed as he stared towards the mountains in the distance, listening to the creak of the building as a warm breeze snaked its way through, the angry shouts of drunk and disorderly folk echoing from somewhere in the city. What if the Daughter’s Sanctum was in those mountains? Could she really be that close?

Even if she was…could he ever hope to find her?

A crash in the night jarred him from his restless sleep and he jumped awake, sitting up and grabbing his knife. “Who’s there?” It was silent, but as he stared into the shadows he swore he saw a figure shift. “Show yourself!” The sound of metal on leather caused his ears to ring with a rush of adrenaline and he jumped to his feet, but as the figure shifted towards him, a flash made him pause. The sound of a body hitting wood followed the thud of a knife hitting its target and Banks gulped, whirling around in the black room. “Who are you!?”

“I won’t kill you,” a muffled voice echoed from above him. He jumped and whirled around, staring up towards the rafters where the outline of a perched figure was barely visible. “But he would have.”

Something in him said it was safe to relax and he allowed himself a brief guess as to whom it was. “So what…you saying you saved me?”

“Perhaps.”

“Adalira….”

She chuckled and he watched her stand, walking easily along the narrow rafter and leaping gracefully to the ground. She was clad in black from head to toe, the cause of her muffled voice a cowl and hood that sunk low over her forehead, the only visible skin her eyes.

“What are you doing here, Banks?”

He shifted and shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t really know.”

“Did your people decide you weren’t to be trusted when I left?”

“It was more a mutual agreement.”

“So you came looking for me?”

“Of course not, I’m not that crazy.”

Adalira chuckled again and reached up, pushing back her hood and tugging down her cowl. Her silvery hair was plaited tightly to her head, keeping it securely out of her face. “Perhaps you’re the reason Nyx insisted on sending me along with the party to Maerth. I see no other reason.”

“Party?”

She shrugged and moved a little closer. “Some of my sisters, a few of my cousins. Someone prayed to Nyx and Nox, asked them to send some of their children this way to clean up the mess that was partly our fault. Well…my fault, really, but it could not be helped.”

Banks hummed. “So, if I were to touch you would I need fear one of your sisters or cousins killing me instantly?”

She smirked. “They all know that no one touches me without my permission.” Banks didn’t hesitate, grabbing her up and pulling her close, a hand cradling the back of her head to draw her closer into his kiss. He’d expected her to push him away or remain indifferent, but the grip of her hands at his back eased his worries and he pulled her closer still.

“I lied,” he huffed against her lips.

“I know,” she whispered smugly.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Not unless you were sent to kill me, in which case I’m positive I’d have knelt at your feet and begged you to.”

She laughed, that true, earnest laugh he’d only ever heard on occasion when they chatted after their nightly coupling. “Nyx would not be so cruel. She’d have sent one of my sisters instead.”

He grinned and played his fingers over the woven strands of her hair. “Then I’d have requested you.” She laughed. “So…”

“Now what?”

“Something like that.”

“You can’t go with me.” His arms tightened around her. “My family is not one that you can be a part of.”

“Can the Sons and Daughters not create their own family?”

“We can…” she said hesitantly.

“But?”

“It is difficult, Banks…belonging to a Daughter. We are blood thirsty creatures, wild and untamable. I could not sit at home with you and play your precious wife, give you children, wait for you during the day while you tended fields or went out hunting. I fulfill a contract at least once between every full moon. I kill and cover myself in blood and pray to my Goddess. She is my mother and nothing could make me leave her. Not even love. I do not love like you.”

“Who says I cannot learn to love like you?”

“Would you kill for me?”

“Yes.” Adalira’s eyes widened at his quick response. “Maybe,” he tempered.

She chuckled softly, hot puffs of air that sent a shiver through him. “You will have to know for sure.”

“Must I prove it? Tell me how and I’ll do it. Point me in the right direction, choose for me a target. I’ll spill my own blood if that’s what it will take!” he whispered fervently.

“Banks—,”

“Adalira! I’ve never…felt…” He sighed and relaxed his hold just slightly, bringing his hand around to cup her cheek, his thumb passing gently across her lips. “It has been many years. There have been many women, many times that I thought I would take a wife before this madness…But none have ever felt as right. None have ever felt like this.”

“I can’t be romanced, Banks,” she said flatly.

“I’m not trying to romance you, damnit, I’m telling you! I’m just telling you. I’m going mad!”

“I can see that.”

“Please, don’t mock me.”

“But my mockery is why you love me so,” she teased anyway.

He glared at her for a moment but it softened and he sighed in defeat. “I suppose that’s part of it…”

They stood that way for quite some time, a rare moment of peace for either of them. When Adalira finally pulled away, Banks was reluctant to let her go.

“Stay here for the night. I’ll make sure no one else comes up. I need to speak with my sisters before I give you any answers. Just…don’t get your hopes up.”

“Do you think they’ll say no?”

“It’s more than likely.”

“Would you listen if they did?”

She grabbed his face and kissed him gently. “I would.” He nodded in understanding. “Now stay here, and stay out of sight. There are quite a few blood-thirsty folk out tonight and I am not one of them. I’ll do my best to keep them away, but you must do your part as well and not draw them near.”

“I can defend myself, you know,” he said bitterly.

“Haha, I never said you couldn’t.” She pulled away and drew up her hood, tucking her cowl back into place. “Stay.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She tossed him a look and he grinned after her as she approached the hole in the wall, carefully leaning out, eyes taking in everything. Banks expected her to leap out into the darkness and continue the work she’d been sent to complete. What he hadn’t expected was to have her back in his arms, crying out in pain as an arrow aimed for him sunk deep into her back.

“Oh gods!” he panicked, holding her and drawing her further into the room to a space he hoped wasn’t visible.

“s**t…” she hissed, body trembling. “It’s because…your tunic…”

Banks huffed and glanced at the cream-colored fabric. “It’s that visible?” Who would want to shoot him?

“It doesn’t matter…ah, you’ll have to pull it out…I can’t quite feel my arms,” Adalira huffed through clenched teeth.

Banks shuddered and looked down at the arrow, barely visible in the dim dawn light. “I…I don’t think that’s a wise decision.” Hot blood began to soak into his legs.

“Well…it can’t…stay there,” she struggled.

Banks shook his head. “Adalira…Your sisters. How do I call your sisters? A cousin, even!?”

She shook her head weakly against his shoulder. “You don’t,” she breathed, voice weak.

He panicked. “There has to be a way. I won’t lose you over an arrow…Adalira? Speak, damn you!” He shook her, but all she managed was a barely-there whisper. He tried to ignore the puddle that had developed around them, desperately looking around, hoping to see another figure clad in black moving towards them with a cure. Instead, what he felt was a pinch to his neck, a burn run through him, and he collapsed into unconsciousness.

**
Banks woke slowly, sluggishly, his mind struggling to relocate his limbs and the feeling in his face and body. He groaned and rolled to his side on the firm bed of hay, eyes foggy as he stared around the small room. It was weakly lit by a single torch, revealing naught but a makeshift table in one corner, on which his belongings sat, and the bed he slept. The door was open, revealing a stone wall opposite him, the glow of better light reflecting off and into his room.

It took him longer than he would have liked to make it into a sitting position, his head spinning and aching as he pushed to his feet and stumbled to the door. He winced against the increase in light, but cautiously looked around just the same.

A man sat in the hall a few steps away, half dressed and working knots from lengthy black hair. He looked towards Banks at the sound of shuffling and Banks recognized that icy undertone in his eyes.

“Where is…”

He pointed down the hall. “You won’t make it just yet.” Banks tried anyway, leaning heavily against the wall as he stumbled. He made it a yard past the man before his legs knotted up and he slumped to the ground, head spinning. “I’m not carrying you back.”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Just the drug wearing off. If you sit still a while yet, it’ll get better,” he answered simply, almost dismissive.

“You drugged me?”

“I didn’t, but she made me carry you here.” Banks looked up at him, confused. “Kerra…you’ll meet her.”

Banks sighed. “How much longer will I be like this?”

He shrugged and tossed a water skin at him. “Drink up. It’ll make it faster.” Banks didn’t hesitate.

Footsteps echoed through the hall a moment later and Banks looked up, mind slightly less fuzzy. A woman stopped in front of him, hand on her hip, dressed in a loose gown reminiscent of the one Adalira had been found in. Her hair was chestnut and draped over a shoulder, eyes green and calculating.

“What’s he doing out here?” she asked. There was an edge to her voice. Ignore her and die.

The man shrugged. “He crawled out of bed. I told you I wasn’t going to carry him again.”

“After Adalira, no doubt,” she nearly grumbled. He hummed in agreement.

“Where is she?” Banks asked again, clearly.

The woman sighed and crossed her arms. “She’s with our healers.”

“Will she live?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see her?”

“Can you stand?” Banks struggled to his feet, the woman tapping a foot impatiently as he righted himself and leaned on the wall, legs shaking. “You should go and lie down.”

“No, I need to see her. It’s my fault she was shot,” he insisted.

“Yes, it is,” said the woman simply. Banks frowned. “Come along then. Keep up or I’ll leave you to wander around and get lost.” She started down the stone hallway and Banks hurried after her to the best of his ability. They moved through crumbling corridors, the occasional door opening up into a bedroom, and down a set of stone steps. It led to what appeared to be a great room, complete with fireplace, a large table with numerous chairs, and a space to the side decorated with drapes and pillows for lounging about. She led him away from it, turning into another corridor right beneath the stairs and directly into a separate room.
Adalira was there, laid out on a bed, her back exposed and a healer working over it. She looked up as the door creaked opened and looked surprised.

“What are you doing awake?”

Banks hadn’t rushed to her only because he was unable to, dragging his still relatively unresponsive limbs along and dropping beside the bed. “Is that any way to greet me?”

Adalira smirked. “You should still be unconscious.”

“Sorry to disappoint?” She shot him a glare, tempered only by her smile. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’ll be all right. Just a scratch,” she said haughtily.

“Fortunately, Adalira had performed her ritual just last week. And with Onarch’s blood, no less. If this had happened a week later, she might not be in such good shape,” said the woman who’d led him down.

Banks scowled and looked back at her. “And who are you?” Adalira snapped at his tone but the woman seemed amused.
“I am Adalira’s sister, Kerra. Lucky for her I’d been nearby when she’d been shot and felt her pain. You, however, must be the man she told me about when she returned to us. Banks, I believe?” She leaned in close and made a show of looking him over. “I was expecting someone more attractive.”

“He’s plenty attractive,” mumbled Adalira.

Kerra sighed. “I’m still not sold on the idea of him being your husband. He’s foolish, predictable, beneath you in every way.” Banks flushed and scowled.

“I like him quite well,” Adalira mumbled sleepily. “I held a knife to his throat and he didn’t faint.”

Kerra laughed. “I suppose there’s that. Come, man, let me show you someplace you can clean yourself up. You don’t look as though you’ve bathed in some time.” She turned and started off, Adalira waving him on when he looked back at her questioningly.
“Go on now. I’m tired. You’ll do as she says, anyway, if you want to live.”

“Funny, that’s what I said about you,” he mumbled. She smirked and he stood, following Kerra out.

The woman made a show of sighing as they entered a washroom, throwing her hair over her shoulder and generally carrying on as though she were hugely inconvenienced. “You may wash up here. I’ll speak to one of my cousins. We might have one as scrawny as you, perhaps he’ll have a spare outfit. That’ll never do, not in the house of Nyx,” she said, flicking her finger this way and that over his person. Banks looked down at himself, stomach knotting up at the dried blood that stained nearly every inch of him.

“Is this…”

“Adalira’s? Mostly. Some of it probably came from her kill in the corner of that room. You were kneeling in it. Though I suppose that wasn’t in your thoughts at all. No matter. Bathe, we’ll find you clothes, and then some food,” she said and she marched out, shutting the door behind her. Banks sighed and looked around the small, dimly lit room, stripping off the clothes and going about cleaning with the freezing water provided. Porous stone was left in a bucket and he took the liberty of using it to scrub himself nearly red. Close to finishing a man walked in without bothering to knock, depositing a set of clothes on a bench and leaving again without a care. He took that as a sign and finished up, dressing and wandering back towards the great room.

There were more people present this time, mostly women, a few men. They looked up at him curiously as he approached, but as the man in the washroom, they disregarded him, turning back to whatever they were doing. Despite being surrounded by people he knew could kill him without any trouble, Banks felt oddly at ease.

“Feel better?”

Banks turned to face Adalira, surprised to see her up and moving. She reached out and fingered the tunic. “Yorrin, are these yours?”

The slight, brunette man looked up and regarded them. “Kerra insisted I was the only one small enough. Ebbet’s probably would have fit him, too.”

“I appreciate the loan,” said Banks.

Yorrin shrugged. “It wasn’t about wanting or not wanting to lend them. What my sister says goes. Especially here. If we were in a house of Nox it might be a little different.”

“I still wouldn’t argue with Kerra. House of Nox or not,” said Ebbet, the man who’d sat patiently outside of Banks’ bedroom.

Banks looked down to Adalira. “Doesn’t he mean cousin?”

“No, Yorrin and Kerra are blood related. He’s her younger brother, chosen by Nox a few years after her when he came of age. Come, sit at the table. You’re probably starving,” she said, shoving him to the center. He was surprised when a sister pushed a chair out for him.

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” he mumbled. Adalira pushed him into the seat and wandered off, leaving him to sit awkwardly between the two women, both studying him curiously.

“What a strange type for you, Adalira,” said one, leaning in close and gazing into his eyes.

“Rough and a bit wild. This has been growing awhile,” said the other, taking his chin to turn his face to her and scratching her fingers through his beard.

“How strange. You could have lords and riches, sister,” the first went on, grabbing his chin in turn and yanking him back.

“Or perhaps it’s this Blessing? Who’s is it?” continued the other, the process repeating.

“Please, stop,” he said roughly. To his surprise, they did, their eyes widening as though stunned that they had.

“Gian!” Yorrin shouted, jumping to his feet. He had an almost gleeful look in his eyes.

“What?”

“The Blessing of Gian,” continued Yorrin. “The God of Illusion and Cunning!”

Bank’s eyes widened and he felt instantly insulted. “I do not! How dare you insinuate that I’m blessed by him. I’m no thief!” It was a common trait, those with the Blessing of Gian. They were often involved in larger groups or simply petty thieves, their gift making it all but too easy for them to get what they wanted. It had even been rumored that Onarch himself had been blessed by Gian.

Yorrin grinned. “Nor am I.”

“Gian’s Blessing doesn’t automatically make you a thief.”

Banks bristled. “But to be blessed by that underhanded God. And for what? What would make me so special, anyway?”

“Plenty,” said Adalira, setting a bowl in front of him and one of her sisters. “Gian is best known for his illusions and chaotic nature, but he was also the one to solve the riddle to Rhian’s cage and set the all-mother free. If he hadn’t made the others listen, she might still be trapped. So she acknowledged his strong voice and abilities of persuasion. Not all with Gian’s Blessing follow his chaotic leanings,” she explained, taking a seat at the table.

“Yorrin is not one of those,” said Kerra, earning a chuckle from the sisters.

Yorrin scoffed. “You don’t see me running the streets and doing all sorts of ill, do you?”

“You might be if Nox hadn’t summoned you,” she retorted. Yorrin harrumphed and turned back to his food.

Banks sighed. “What sort of blessing is it?”

“Voice, dear brother, voice,” said Yorrin. Banks frowned. “If you say it, those around you will do it. Well, depending on how much control you have over it.”

“How do you mean?”

Yorrin grinned. “Everyone pass me your bread.” His voice seemed to ripple through the room, pressing in on Banks’ mind and making everything slightly foggy and slow. Before Banks realized it, he’d passed his slice of bread over to Yorrin, adding it to the sudden pile. The only one who hadn’t was Kerra. When the ripple died down, the group angrily berated him and snatched back their morsels. Yorrin was laughing, thoroughly amused.

“I can’t do that,” said Banks, taking back his piece and returning to his meal.

“Of course you can. It takes practice, is all. You’ve only just learned of it,” said Yorrin.

Banks chuckled derisively. “No one would listen to me.”

“Oh now that’s completely untrue,” said Adalira. He looked up expectantly. “What, you hadn’t noticed?”

“Noticed what?” he asked, frustrated.

“Banks, you yourself said that you were nothing special in your village. But when you said follow, your people went without questioning. When you insisted on making camp, they did so. You made the rules, you led people who would just as easily have followed someone else if they’d wanted, and you used your clever thinking to keep them safe. You have Gian’s Blessing,” she argued.

“They didn’t always listen to me.”

“Of course not, you had no idea what you were doing. But now that I think about it, when I was first hauled into your camp, all those people would have gladly killed me in their bloodlust. But all you said was stop and they did, without question. Well, all save for Cork,” said Adalira.

Ebbet chuckled from the end of the table. “Maybe that’s why you’re so keen on marrying him, eh, Adalira?”

Everyone stiffened. “That’s a good point,” said Kerra.

“Could be that he’s putting enough emotion into it that he’s influencing you without realizing it,” said one of the sisters beside Banks.

Yorrin hummed, unsure. “That’s a bit of a stretch.”

“But it’s still a possibility.”

Banks fumed. “I’d never force Adalira to do something she doesn’t want.”

“That’s all fine and well, but it might be that you don’t know you’ve done it, and neither does she,” argued Kerra.

“It’s still quite a stretch,” said Yorrin.

“I’m of sound mind, Kerra,” said Adalira.

“I’m not saying you aren’t, sister, I’m saying what if his Blessing has influenced you? It’s possible. Have you honestly considered it?”

Adalira scoffed. “This is the first I’ve seen him in weeks. No ones Blessing has that kind of stamina, especially miles apart. Yorrin’s command has already worn off. Is anyone here planning to let him have their bread?”

“But maybe you’re still only imagining your love for him?” another sister set on the table.

“I seduced him to begin with!” said Adalira angrily.

Yorrin waved his hands. “Now, wait, I understand what you’re saying cousins, but Adalira’s right. Gian’s Blessing isn’t any more potent than any other deity’s. Even if this man had been able to use his voice to get her to submit, her distance from him would have undone all of that and I daresay she’d have killed him. It’s just not possible.”

“So what, you’re saying you support this union?” snapped Kerra.

“Support what? I’m defending Gian’s Blessing! Being all unnecessary about it,” he grumbled.

Adalira glared. “Thank you, Yorrin,” she hissed, voice icy. “Now be realistic, Kerra. Of all the times I’ve been courted, by your own brother, no less, who has full control of his Blessing, when have I ever come to you with this request?” Yorrin blushed.

“I didn’t think you ever would request it!”

“Am I not allowed to fall in love!?”

“We’re Daughters of Nyx, Adalira, some things are beyond our grasp!”

“I am not the first Daughter to request a husband. Plenty of our sisters have taken husbands! Ebbet’s wife, for example, our sister Calla. You didn’t have a problem agreeing to their union!”

“If you were taking a Son as your husband it would be different!”

“Just because you lost Laban, sister, don’t take it out on the rest of your sisters!” interrupted Yorrin. The table went silent and the room still as Kerra looked over at him and glared daggers.

“How dare you bring that up.”

“It’s relevant and you need to come to terms with it,” said Yorrin, not cowed in the least. “Obviously, it’s affecting your decisions for the rest of your clan.”

“It isn’t in the least!”

“Enough!” Banks heard himself shout. The two went silent and after a moment, everyone glared, save for Yorrin, who grinned. Banks flushed and pushed to his feet, quickly marching away from the infighting he’d caused. He’d managed to remember the way back to the room he’d stayed in and entered in a huff, pacing for a moment, sitting briefly on the edge of the bed, and then pacing again. When Adalira had said it was unlikely her sisters would allow her marriage, he’d hoped that perhaps they’d make an exception.

Sighing, he found his bag and checked the contents, digging around under the bed for his boots. Half way through lacing them, there was a gentle knock on his door and Kerra entered, closing it behind her.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” he mumbled.

“You can’t just leave.”

Banks huffed and pushed to his feet. “Kill me then, if you must. I’d request Adalira for the job, but I can’t be that cruel,” he said angrily, glaring at the woman.

She huffed and glared right back. “Calm yourself. I’m not here to kill you, either, you twit. I came to apologize.” Banks’ face immediately softened and Kerra sighed. “Yorrin…was right. I’m being unfair simply because of my own loss.”

“Laban?” She seemed to wince. “I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t be. Laban was my husband. We were married for years. Even had a daughter. But…the Legion moved in on his village a year ago. He was killed and my daughter was taken. Nyx did her best to tell me, but I didn’t get there in time. I tracked my daughter back to a Legion camp, but I was even too late to save her. They’d locked her and a few other children in a dog cage…with the dogs…” she trailed off and swallowed hard, closing her eyes for a moment to regain her composure, angrily brushing away a tear. “However…I went into a Bloodlust and mutilated the entire camp. If Yorrin hadn’t been with me in search of his niece I might have even killed the other prisoners without thinking. He used his Blessing to force me down, speaking to me until I was myself again. These past two months have been the first contracts I’ve been assigned since it happened.”

Banks shifted. “I’m sorry…I didn’t know…”

“Of course you didn’t,” she snapped. He splayed his hands and she sighed, crossing her arms. “What I mean is, I was denying your union because of my pain. And it’s not because of jealousy, but because…Adalira she…she pretends very much to be strong. She is strong, but not as strong as she seems. If she loses you, or Nyx forbid, her children should she have them…she’ll break completely. I don’t think anyone could quell her Bloodlust.”

Banks sighed. “That’s…difficult to answer…” Kerra gave a faint chuckle and wiped at her face. “With the Legion disbanded…I’m not saying that….I’ll try not to get killed. And should we have children, I will do all in my power to keep them safe,” he said, floundering about for anything even remotely reassuring.

Kerra sighed. “It’s not my place to deny her. We all thought for sure Adalira would go without a husband, she just never seemed very interested. I won’t lie, I think my brother is better for her, but…simply because she loves you makes you the only one. Now all you have left to do is ask for Nyx to bless the union.”

Banks’ nerves flared. “And what must I do for that?” he asked cautiously.

“Nothing as dramatic as we must. Yorrin will take you to complete it.” Banks gave her a look and she laughed, the sound a little less forced. “Don’t worry. It’s not as though he still pines for Adalira. He had to agree to the union as well, and I can honestly say he was one of the first to agree. But…rest. When night comes, he’ll be around.”

“Thank you,” Banks mumbled.

Kerra nodded. “I’m sorry I was so callous. If Nyx accepts you…take care of Adalira. Or I’ll kill you myself.” She was grinning and her eyes were soft. Banks wondered if death threats were a form of endearment for the Sons and Daughters.  

[oOGarrettOo]

**
Banks rested and slept as suggested, Adalira wandering up to lay with him and encourage him. Banks held her close and stared at the wound on her back, fingers gently rolling over a scar on her shoulder, remembering the incident.

“What if she doesn’t accept me?”

“Unlikely.”

“But what if?”

“Then I’ll kill you,” said Adalira. Banks pulled back and glared at her, the stare tempered by her playful grin. “She rarely says no, Banks.”

“So she has said no?”

“Well certainly. Nyx examines your very soul. There have been men she’s deemed unworthy of her Daughters, the same with Nox and women. But she won’t say no. There was a reason she kept me at your camp.”

“To tempt me into falling for a madwoman, certainly.”

She laughed. “To be fair, I did tell you it would be better if you continued to be mean to me.”

“Never again,” he said, pressing a kiss to her neck. She laughed.

A knock on his door preceded Yorrin’s face peering in. “It’s time, sweet knight,” he teased. Banks was instantly nervous. They climbed off the bed and Adalira gave him a moment to pull on his boots before grabbing his face and kissing him gently.

“I’ll see you when you get back.”

“If I get back?”

“When you get back. Yorrin, don’t tease him too much,” she said, moving to the door and poking the man in the chest.
“I hadn’t thought about it,” said Yorrin, holding up his hands but grinning mischievously.

“You’re an awful liar. Take care of him,” said Adalira and she wandered down the halls, not looking back.

“Ready?”

“Do I need anything?”

“No. Here, put this on,” said Yorrin, handing him a thick scarf. “Blindfold.”

“Ah, right,” said Banks, and he tied the fabric over his eyes. Yorrin grabbed the back of his shirt and led him through halls and up a staircase. He felt the soothing ambiance of spring, heard the chirrups and songs of night creatures, and took a breath of fresh air.

“Gets a bit stuffy in there, eh?” said Yorrin, more lighthearted about things than Banks thought he should be.

“Is it underground?”

“Maybe.”

“Right.”

They marched for what felt like eternity before Yorrin stopped him and removed the blindfold, allowing him to see that they were indeed in the mountains, surrounded by trees, and the night was clear, waning moon bright. Yorrin pulled a knife from his belt and passed it off.

“What’s this?”

“You’ll need it for your sacrifice.”

Banks hummed, nerves flaring. “Sacrifice is it?”

Yorrin shrugged. “It is their life force. Take a seat then, meditate. Should be along soon.” He sat and stretched, nearly disappearing in the darkness, dressed in black as he was. “Oh, and you’ll need to take your clothes off.”

Banks blinked. “What for?”

“Well you can’t very well supplicate yourself wearing earthly garments. Besides, I don’t want you to get blood on my clothes,” he said with a shrug, crossing his legs and sighing. “So, bare it and sit.”

Banks hummed and shuffled a foot. “There are pine needles.”

“Then your a**’ll be sore. Get over it,” said Yorrin, starting to get annoyed. Banks picked up on it and did as told, stripping and folding the clothes. He sat, back to back with Yorrin, and waited. The night was quiet, clear, and surprisingly comfortable. Summer wasn’t far off.

A light rustling announced the arrival of person or animal and the men looked over, Yorrin making a sound of approval as a young buck strode into the small clearing and approached them. Banks jumped up and took a step back, but Yorrin grabbed his shoulder.

“That’s him then. Lovely, too,” he said.

“That’s what, the sacrifice?”

“Aye, that’ll be him. He’s offering himself to Nyx. So, what you’ll want to do is approach him, thank him for providing life to the Dark Mother, say a prayer to Nyx offering it and yourself, and cut its throat. Nice and clean like,” Yorrin explained as though it were a simple thing. Banks looked at him horrified. “What? I do it every new moon.”

Banks sighed. “…All right…” Yorrin gave him a pat and stepped back. Banks stared at the creature, standing calmly in the clearing, regarding him through black eyes. He stood cautiously beside it in the moonlight and the deer stepped forward, waiting.
“Um…I thank you…Deer…for the life force you offer to the Goddess. Nyx, Goddess of Night…I, umm… I offer this life and…ask that you…” He looked back at Yorrin, unsure, and the man waved him on, ushering him to continue. “I ask that you accept my presence…accept me…into your bosom?” He looked back again and Yorrin drew his finger across his throat. Banks gulped and took hold of the deer’s antler, the creature going with the motion. Banks drew the knife quickly, the deer completely silent, and carefully helped it to the ground as it bled, wanting desperately to vomit, but managing to keep himself in check. Yorrin moved forward when the blood stopped flowing and knelt, covering the palm of his hand, fingers to wrist. He stood and faced Banks.

“There’s no going back, Banks. You will face her and she will decide if you’re worthy.”

Banks gulped. “And if I’m not?”

“She’ll kill you.”

Banks nodded. “Right.”

Yorrin grabbed his shoulder with a clean hand and shook him. “No fear, man. She hates a man with fear, especially when her Daughters have none.” Banks nodded and Yorrin shook him again once more, offering strength. He stepped back and brought his blood-soaked palm to Banks’ chest.

The print was barely finished before Banks’ vision went completely black. He grunted as his body lurched and he felt as though someone was dragging him up, cold fingers wrapped around him, the whoosh of air past his ears. It felt almost like falling, and then he was weightless, sitting in the darkness, waiting.

“I’ve been expecting you,” a voice whispered. It was in his mind and all around him, nearly choking him. “So this is the man that has won over the heart of my beloved daughter? A peasant…no special traits or qualities…unaccomplished…”

Banks choked out a sentence. “I’m not all bad.”

She chuckled, a breathy, airy laugh. It was ice to his skin, choking the remaining air from his chest. “He thinks he’s clever…Ah, but here is the reason. Gian has touched you, that’s right, that’s right. A clever yet unaccomplished man. Yet he seeks my daughter’s love? What a request. Yes, what a request.”

“I…do love her…very much,” he wheezed out.

She hummed, amused. “Many have loved her. What makes your love any better? Why should I accept you, bless your union?”

Ice pressed in on him and he gasped. “I…can’t…” He struggled to breathe. “I’m not…special. Not…better.”

“Honest. Very honest.” The air around him seemed to get colder and he thought for sure he’d die as the darkness seemed to shrink in before him, creating first the shape of a woman and slowly filling out, taking in color, making recognizable features. Her eyes were completely black, her hair just as ebony, rippling around her dark face. Robes the color of blood hung loosely from her shoulders. Banks was barely conscious, the cold and pressure forcing his very life from him.

She cocked her head and examined him. “Do you fear me, mortal?”

“W…would you…kill me…if I said yes?” he managed.

She laughed and was upon him one hand wrapped around his throat, the source, he thought, of his choking. Her other hand floated up to his face and she dragged a nail across it, the thing cutting his skin, from just above his temple, down to his jaw, burning despite the cold.

“You should be dead,” she whispered. “Having witnessed a ritual to me, you angered me quite fiercely. And yet you stood up to my daughter, staring into her eyes as she was on the verge of Bloodlust. For that, I commend you. You are special, Banks, despite thinking you are not. Your life had a purpose even before you were born. So go. I bless your union, I accept your offer, and I take you into my bosom,” she breathed against his lips and she threw him, dissolving into darkness. He fell quickly, the ice melting away and the pressure disappearing, allowing him to gasp in air as his vision returned. He immediately started coughing, rolling to the side to hack.

A warm hand patted his cold shoulder. “Good man.”

“Am I not dead?” he wheezed.

“Not quite. I worried for a moment when you stopped breathing, but you gasped back to life fairly quickly. Congratulation, Banks. You are now the husband of my lovely cousin Adalira,” said Yorrin.

Banks coughed and sighed, slowly pushing into a sitting position. “Is…is it like that every time you go before them?”
Yorrin shrugged. “I only go before Nox, but if you mean deathly cold and somewhat hard to breathe, then yes. The fear was gone when I faced Him the first time.”

Banks sighed and rubbed his face, hissing when he felt a scratch. “Gods, I didn’t think that was real. She wanted to kill me, I know it.”

Yorrin hummed and grabbed his chin, looking at the cut. “She did that eh? Of course she wanted to kill you. They want to kill everyone. Well not everyone, per say, but a lot of people. Can you stand?” he asked, getting to his own feet.

Banks huffed and pushed himself up, legs shaking. “If I never have to do that again, it’ll be too soon.”

“You shouldn’t have to, but nothing’s set in stone. Go on, dress, have some water, and put the blindfold on again. You get to help me carry the deer back!” he said, almost excited. Banks groaned but did as told.

**

Adalira hugged him tightly when he returned and he held her back even more desperately if it was possible. Everyone gave them honest congratulations as they stood there, but Banks was still nearly ready to collapse.

“I thought for sure she was going to kill me,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

“It’s true, she’s difficult to please. But she didn’t kill you and that’s all that matters,” said Adalira.

He sighed and pulled back, looking into her grey eyes and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Now what?”

“Now, you must go and build us a home,” she said, turning and leading him from the great hall.

“Build it, huh?”

“Or usurp one. There are bound to be plenty of abandoned hovels.”

He hummed. “And once I build this home?”

“Then I will come.”

“And any house will do?”

“Well at least put some effort into it,” she said, pushing through a door to reveal a rather fancy room, drapes on the walls and a relatively comfortable bed. She tugged him in and shoved him down, settling on top of him and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Why can’t you come with me to pick out this home?” he asked, sitting up just slightly as she tugged off his top. He kissed her neck and shoulder, hands lazily stroking up and down her back.

“Because I have a contract to finish.”

“Ah, that’s right, the saving of Maerth.”

“I cannot neglect my contract, no matter how much I might like to,” she said, lacing fingers through his hair and kissing softly at his lips.

“And how often will I get to see you between these contracts?”

She sighed and pulled back, looking down at him. “I already told you, my Mother and sisters will come first. I cannot be your little wife, wait at home for you, cook and clean. I have a duty to my Goddess.”

“I know. But I will miss you.”

“I know.”

**
Banks blinked back tears as the blindfold was tugged off and the sun accosted his sensitive eyes. He was in the trees, just next to a road. He hummed.

“And you’ll find me?”

“Without a problem,” said Adalira.

“How far should I go?”

She shrugged. “However far until you find what you want.”

He hummed again and looked up and down the road, view marred by trees. “And you really will find me?”

She laughed. “Of course.”

Banks looked down at her and reached up, playing with a strand of silvery hair. “I’ll do my best.”

“I know.”

They kissed softly and she shoved him. Reluctantly, he went and started off down the road, picking whichever direction he felt was right and going with it. Adalira hadn’t said how long her contract would take her to fill, hadn’t given him any idea when he’d see her next, and he sighed as he went. Build a home. He frowned. Usurp one…

He walked on.


And End. That took entirely too long to post.  

[too2sweet]

I really enjoyed reading that!! (definitely not boring xd )

Only thing I noticed was one typo here...

Banks refused to thin everyone else’s rations to feed her, so Mab, Eulace, and the other four each saved bits from their meals, compiling leftovers for her, of which he’d heard she excepted accepted graciously.  

[oOGarrettOo]

too2sweet

I really enjoyed reading that!! (definitely not boring xd )

Only thing I noticed was one typo here...

Banks refused to thin everyone else’s rations to feed her, so Mab, Eulace, and the other four each saved bits from their meals, compiling leftovers for her, of which he’d heard she excepted accepted graciously.

xd Thanks! I totally looked over that.

I think I reread that line a couple times because it registered that something wasn't right, but I totally didn't catch it anyway.  

[too2sweet]

oOGarrettOo

too2sweet

I really enjoyed reading that!! (definitely not boring xd )

Only thing I noticed was one typo here...

Banks refused to thin everyone else’s rations to feed her, so Mab, Eulace, and the other four each saved bits from their meals, compiling leftovers for her, of which he’d heard she excepted accepted graciously.

xd Thanks! I totally looked over that.

I think I reread that line a couple times because it registered that something wasn't right, but I totally didn't catch it anyway.

It's hard too, when it's an actual word, and spell check doesn't pick up on it. I'm forever interchanging normal words, and especially at work it's frustrating because when I post something, I only have 15 minutes to edit it, and enevitably I won't notice until much later that I typo'd something. gonk