i can't save the world if i'm not happy anymore.

The dark yawned open before her, silver light spilling in as far as it could reach into the deep and unending black. The cavern led deep underground, she knew. Down. And down. And down. Down where the dark would be complete, where the weight of the earth would press in, where there was no sky, no sound, no warmth. She stood entirely still at the mouth of that cavern, on two very original legs as dull, fire-blue eyes remained fixated on the dark. There was only the sound of her rich blue cloak rustling around her calves as a cold breeze swept through her, as if sucked into the underground tunnels. And.. there was the sound of blood roaring in her ears. The incessant, relentless calls of the dark that was rising like a tidal wave. But perhaps worst of all was the silence that lay beneath. Crushing, thick, cold silence. A void where someone else had been, where there had been someone to hear her. She’d crushed that. Dreams of gloved hands on her bare skin chased her from sleep. The terror of it, the blood that coated her, the taste of it on her teeth. She’d lurched from the place she had found to sleep: a decrepit little ruin where the wolf could curl up and rest. That she-wolf ran. She had ran and ran and ran until her legs might have given out. Even as she stood now, her very original legs trembled. Was it in the wake of her nightly terrors, or was it standing face to face with one of her greatest fears? It didn’t matter though, did it? She was still running, she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t fight herself, couldn’t go to war with what was her own twisted soul and survive it. She couldn’t pick up all the broken shards, what was left of her. Gods, she had killed her Master, ripped his chest open and devoured his very heart - was that not enough for her? No, of course it wasn’t. Monster. Murderer. Pathetic. Coward. Still she woke in fear, in agony, holding her breath until she could stumble far enough and empty her stomach. Until she could just run and keep on running, because she couldn’t stay still. She had to move. Now she stood alone. Alone. She had forced this on herself. Alone in her mind, heart, and soul, and she had done this. Maybe it was his pain that hurt the worst. The year of Alistair’s life wasted on this vile thing he thought he could save. She couldn’t be saved. She never would be. She had wounded her husb-.. Ex-husband.. So deeply.. It was only a matter of time before her mother saw it too. Her father. Did they already? Did Vervain see that her lost daughter was not worthy of being a daughter at all, that she was a killer, a weapon, a body of flesh to be used and shaped broken? Did Devrum see that his daughter in all but blood was not as strong as he was, that she could not live with what she was, that she had been broken too early, too young, to even understand what it meant not to be broken? Seven years old the first time she took a life, and lost count soon after. Tortured and brutalized since before then. Thirteen the first time her own body was taken from her. The brutality, the torment, the fear, the bloodlust and hate and love so desperate that she couldn’t breathe with the betrayal… it hadn’t stopped. Not until perhaps only a couple of months ago. She had been too late to be saved from whatever she had turned herself into to survive. Ashetta stood still for a moment longer, gaze distant and cold as she stared with a face devoid of… anything at all. Underground, absolute darkness… Cold earth, murky black, no stars, no air, no way out, never a way out. She waited for the fear to hit; waited for her body to shriek to find a way to run away from this, to get away from the underground, but … nothing. Maybe it’d be a mercy to lose herself down there, to fade away and become the dark herself. To become nothing at all. Ashe unclasped her cloak from the hollow of her throat. Let it flutter to the ground around her feet. Eyes still upon the dark, her hands worked and freed herself from the rest of the extra weight she wore: the the satchel, the scabbard on her back with Reckoning, the belt of pouches and various knives. It all dropped down on her cloak. Her gaze never left that tunnel that lead down, and down, and down… and she took a step forward, leaving her cloak and belongings behind her. She didn’t need them where she was going. Kalt ashetta it's live or die my way.

.

It seemed much of their relationship since Northwind had been Kalt watching her from afar. Only since they came to this new world had she known of his presence, but even then, she didn’t know he was the one with whom she played. In a way, he quite enjoyed that. He was able to fool the great Assassin in Blue with his mediocre disguise, even when they fought closely in the woodlands, ran together in the ruins. He loved it. It was the most fun he’d had since…well, since they trained together in the Guild. However, the last time they had played together was in the treetops and even that felt like forever ago. He watched her. Always. He watched to make sure she was safe, she was okay. Even when she wasn’t, he didn’t interfere because he knew she would be. She had flaws, just like every other man, woman, and child in existence, and sometimes she let herself believe that her flaws would be the consumption of her entire self, but it wasn’t true. He saw the roses that grew from her scars, more beautiful and vibrant than anything nature had ever sprouted. He saw the spring that bloomed from the ground upon which her tears fell. He saw the storms that raged endlessly in her eyes, so much more vastly powerful than what the world could create. He saw her. They weren’t flaws, downfalls… Gods, they were so far from that, yet she was completely drowning in them. She was letting herself drown, become buried in the false words of others who could never understand. She had run, isolated herself. She embraced the wolf and had disappeared to the forest. Rather, tried to disappear. He was there. He was always there, showing himself when she needed him, only never telling her who he was. She didn’t need to know yet. He was a shadow, a figure to remind her of her best self. In the forest, he did just that, but he allowed her the time to relax, to feel, to suffer. She needed it. As much as it pained him to witness, she needed to feel it, to accept it. It was a necessary step to move past the pain. He had stayed with her a few times across the fire. One time, he brought his guitar with him and softly played with the crackling fire. He smiled gently, as it was the first time she allowed herself a peaceful sleep. Music tended to have that effect. Even now, he watched. He watched her from afar, his hood pulled low over the top of his face and his handkerchief covered the lower half. She believed herself to be alone, but it wasn’t true. It never was. Even if she wanted to be alone, wanted to isolate and lose herself to her power, to the dark, to whatever it was that consumed her… She wasn’t alone. He wouldn’t allow it. Crystalline eyes watched her as she removed her cloak, letting it fall to the ground. The sudden crack could have rang out at the pain his heart released. That was a symbol of who she was. That powerful blue which he mocked her for in the Guild was her, and she let it fall to the dirt. Kalt forced down a wave of nausea at the sight. He breathed slowly, clenching his fists and his jaw alike at the feeling of hopelessness she radiated. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t the wild-eyed assassin who he knew, who he created. This girl was broken in a way that she hadn’t been before. That put a rage in his eyes that he couldn’t shove back down. Their relationship had been strange, twisted in a way that people couldn’t accept or understand without experiencing it firsthand. And gods, he prayed no one would ever have to. The possessiveness he felt over breaking her burned inside of him. She broke for one man, one person. That was it, and yet Alistair had taken it upon himself to break her. If his attention wasn’t so focused on keeping her from complete descent, he might have gone after the man responsible for the cracks in her eyes. The last time she was underground, he had whipped her after she came back out. Sixty-four times, he had whipped her with the very weapon that hanged at his side now, begging her to obey their Master. After that, he had broken her further. Five weeks of breaking her, of seeing her fear under the creative masterfulness of his torture. Five fucking weeks of it, but he was able to bring her back, give her back her sense of self, of purpose. Now… Now, she stood at the mouth of the underground, willingly stepping towards it, willingly walking towards the darkness, the emptiness, void of light, of stars. He wouldn’t allow it. She wasn’t allowed to do that, to lose herself. Kalt sprinted from his distant place of hiding, his handkerchief and hood still covering his face as he drew closer. ”Ashe!” He called out. It was the first time he had spoken directly to her in roughly two years. He didn’t know if she would remember his voice, didn’t care. He wanted to remain anonymous, which was why he didn’t remove his facial coverings, but he wouldn’t wait for her to just disappear. His feet came to a fast stop no more than ten feet away from her, mostly hidden eyes practically pleading. Stay. Ashetta kalt give into the night.

”Ashe!” Every single muscle froze. Every nerve, every piece of her attention zeroed in on the sound of that voice. Her name. Her eyes were locked on that blackness she couldn’t see into, that darkness she could see easily allow to swallow her whole. Everything halted, in her mind, in her body, it seemed her very heart had stopped - gods above, she forgot how to breathe. She would never forget that voice. Not for as long as she lived. It shattered through her, her name in that voice, and for the first time in perhaps weeks.. Lightning flickered beneath moon-pale skin, up her arms as her heart suddenly jolted to a start again. Then stopped. Then started again. She was never supposed to hear that voice again, never, especially not here! Two worlds the had traveled across now, he could not be here. Ashe’s wide eyes turned to the ground as her ears started ringing, her scarred hands started shaking. She had fled from their world, left him and what was left of the Guild behind - left his betrayal behind. She had pushed his memory down deep, his name, that gods-damned voice… She almost just kept walking. Ashe’s hands clenched into fists as something powerful surged in her - a rush of something searing hot and so cold it hurt. Maggot-ridden stallion. Rot. Mud. A black shafted arrow. The assassin lifted her head, staring at the dark again. It seemed to grow the longer she looked, whispering and calling and telling her to just let go. How far down the tunnels go? How far could she make it before she couldn’t breathe anymore? She didn’t continue on. Ashe instead turned to face Silver Wing, her eyes brittle as they settled upon him. Staring at him, she remained still and silent as ever… and the Assassin in Blue let out a sharp and bitter laugh that echoed horribly into the dark cavern. She didn’t like the sound of madness that came back with it. She hated herself for the dim sense of relief, realizing that her mystery training partner had been him all along. Of course it had been him. Someone more familiar than even the map of scars on her body. Something in her had known, she thought. She had known who it was she chased through the ruins, through the treetops. She had known whose hands strummed that guitar on the other side of her campfire the other night, lulling her into the first sleep she’d had in days. Idiot girl. How many chances had he had to plunge a knife into her? Since when did he possess magic? But she knew him, once. Knew the games he played, his flare for the dramatic. Since finding that arrow, his arrow, in her blood-father’s eye, she had come to realize she had never known him at all. The echoes of that barked laugh faded, and her eyes darted down to where Reckoning lay over her cloak. Did she care to lunge for it? To protect herself? Did it matter anymore? Her eyes settled on him again, and she wouldn’t say his name, wouldn’t think it. Gods she wanted to, though. When was the last time she uttered his name? She thought back to the week before she’d sold him out, sold out the entire Guild. Had she said it then? Had it really been as long as before her final contract that she had said his name? Before he had shot an arrow through the eye of her father, obliterating her, obliterating them. ”I told you if I ever saw you again, Silver Wing,” she said to him, her weight shifting to the balls of her feet. Her voice trembled. ”I would kill you.” Lightning flickered across her knuckles and between her fingers, her power hissing along her bones after sleeping for so long. She remembered the last thing he ever said to her, the words clawing at her. You’re pathetic. You couldn’t do it yourself, could you? You coward. Want me dead? Look me in the eyes and fucking do it! You coward. Kalt ashetta it's live or die my way.

She stopped. That was a good sign, he hoped. Then again, there was always the chance that she stopped and would turn around to hurl lightning bolts in his direction. Not like it hadn’t happened before. Hells, he managed to jump through her lightning fence with only a few scrapes from exploding shrapnel to slow him down. Wasn’t like he couldn’t handle what she had to throw at him. But instead, she laughed. It was then that he knew for sure she recognized his voice, likely putting together that he was the one she had been training with. He couldn’t tell at the moment if he liked that or not. Kalt watched the lightning flicker in her veins. Part of him was relieved to see it. She had been so quiet, withdrawn. Even at this moment, she was ready to bury herself underground to escape the world. Seeing that lightning, hearing her voice directed at him, it brought such a sick sense of relief that he could have settled where he was and laughed just as she had. But he didn’t. No, he didn’t laugh, didn’t even even crack a smirk. ”Missed you too, blue,” he said, nodding his head to her once. He sighed, removing his handkerchief and gloves and stuffing them into his pocket, then pushing his hood back. There was no point in hiding anymore. She knew who he was, what thy had been doing. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t hide anymore. She knew how to find him, knew how to track him better than anyone else in any other world, if she would even want to. Given how she was looking at him at that moment, the chances of her seeking him out were pretty low. He opened his arms, showing her that he wasn’t there to fight her. Kalt remembered their last conversation too well. It replayed in his mind over and over and over again, like he was trapped in an endless loop of that agonizing fucking moment when she looked at him with such hatred. He accepted every one of her expressions towards him, love, anger, joy, even fear. But that hatred was burned into his mind in a way that he didn’t think he would ever be able to forget. His arms lowered, and he looked at her for a moment in silence. He didn’t feel hatred in her eyes. It almost felt as though she wasn’t strong enough for hatred. ”I know why you’re mad at me.” His voice was soft, gentle, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. He wanted to be more guarded than he felt, but something wasn’t letting him be. ”You have every right to want to dispatch me here and now, but you’d be punishing the wrong man.” Swallowing his nerves down, stifling them into nonexistence, he took a single step forward. Kalt wasn’t remotely afraid of her, of her magic. After all, those five weeks spent in the cellar... He had been the one to wake her power, to call out to it. Why should he be afraid of it? ”You have to listen to me for a moment,” he continued quietly. ”I know what you came home from that job to find. I know you have my arrow, but Ashe, I swear on everything I’ve ever known, I was not the one who loosed it.” She had no reason to believe him, and he half expected her to fry him where he stood, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. She was alone. She felt more alone than she possibly ever had, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t. Ashetta kalt give into the night.

”Missed you too, blue.” Ashe's lip feathered with the promise of a snarl, something surging in her blood so forcefully it hurt. She would have snarled, might have launched her attack… but he removed what he had used to hide himself from her, all things she knew she had recognized but refused to accept. And .. and there he was. Her chest seized suddenly, and fuck, she couldn't breathe as she looked upon a face she had been so damned sure she would never see again. She hated herself for the tremble that began deep in her bones, and a rogue bolt of lightning snapped across her shoulder. She knew that face as well as she had known the horrible mask that had terrorized the both of them.. the mask he had been loyal to all along. Her breath was growing harder to hold onto the longer she looked at him, at eyes that might have well been stars or ice or crystals for how clear they were. Was this that god she had angered punishing her? Was this some kind of fucked up illusion? She had left him behind, traveled through two worlds. She might have laughed again if not for the chasm yawning open in her chest. He was here. A large part of her wasn't believing it as they regarded each other, and she was plunged back to two years ago, three, four, five, twelve. Over a decade of life with him, of lo- She abruptly ended that thought. A lie, nothing but a lie for all those years. She had worked so hard to put it behind her, to put him and his betrayal behind her. There had been a time when she wondered if he had followed her to Northaven, in the beginning. Had he, or Harkon, or Orynth, or Teirnan? No. No the senior assassins had not gone to Northaven, but Master had. He'd ripped apart her life in entirely new ways, completing his nearly lifelong torment of her with murdering the people she cared about, terrorizing them. But at least Silver Wing hadn't followed her. She hadn't had the strength to kill him, and so at least she had left him behind. But he found her once more. Had tracked her through entire worlds to find her. ”I know why you're mad at me.” Lightning suddenly snarled to life along her forearms arms, crackling and dancing and condensing in her closed fists as he went on. Something cracked in her chest, and gods, she wanted to be able to hurl her lightning at him, to slam Reckoning into him… but she wasn't. He'd be dead already if she could. Pathetic. Coward. She bared her teeth at him in a snarl then, suddenly seeming so much more like the wolf beneath her skin. The wrong man? Her chest was heaving now, and her eyes burned and blurred … and as he stepped forward, Ashe hated herself for the way her foot moved back. She wasn't going to listen to him. No, not for all those perfect lies he knew how to tell. She thought of everything he knew about her, the way he knew her. Everything she gave him. She felt that twisted, vile thing in her fester further. Idiot girl. It was why she had never allowed herself to remember him, not willingly - had his betrayal been worse than their Master's? Master had been a monster, a demon-god she had devoured herself. Silver Wing, though… she needed to run, to - ”I was not the one who loosed it.” Ashe blinked at him in dumb shock for a moment. Did he.. honestly.. think that she would believe him? Just like that. Ashe's eyes blazed suddenly, and she flexed her hand, wishing Reckoning were within it, so desperately she felt it… she blinked, glancing down to where her lightning hummed.. in the very perfect imitation of a sword. It was not solid, but she felt it zinging in her blood the longer she held it. That was.. new. She snapped her eyes back up at him and sneered viciously, something in her eyes fracturing at the sight of him. Right there. More self hatred for the ache in her chest. ”Fuck you!” she snarled, voice echoing in the mouth of the underground. ”You think I'm mad at you? Mad!” Ashe tilted her head back with a very bitter, vicious grin, blinking her eyes up to the ceiling as she turned from him for the briefest of moments. The hand that held that lightning sword came up as her head dropped, her wrist pressing against her forehead. Her teeth grit as her chest heaved, and she snapped back around to face him, taking a few furious steps forward. ”You killed my father and you think I'm mad?” Trusten Yla, black stallion shapechanger, the father she had made herself into a monster to protect. And Silver Wing killed him. The one she had trusted above all others had killed him. She glanced down at her belongings before she shook her head, clenching her jaw. Her heart slamming in her chest, and she wanted to run. Run, and run, and run. What would Vervain of her? Of this? The man that killed her first husband, her daughter's father, and Ashe couldn't bring herself to kill him. Everything she'd done in her life, all the people she killed, the things she had done and been done to her, and and she could not kill him. Ashe swallowed through the constriction in her throat and looked over her shoulder. Into that beckoning dark. Her leg feathered, as if her carry her there. ”How is it you expect me to believe anything you say?” she snapped, and then whipped her eyes back to him. She rolled the shoulder of the arm that still held that lightning-sword she'd accidentally made. ”What are you doing here? How in the five hells did you find me, and what the fuck kind of game are you playing now, Silver Wing?” ashetta it's live or die my way.

He didn’t know the pain she felt upon finding her father. He couldn’t know. Kalt never knew his parents, had grown up on the streets until he was ten years old when Master became his father, Harkon his brother. The Guild was his family, but it was far from what anyone would consider a loving family. His father manipulated every aspect of his life. His father beat him, burned him, whipped him for over a year. Ashe’s father had tried and failed to provide for her, but he was always there for her - even if their time together was severely limited and always monitored. The pain of losing that was impossible for him to understand. He couldn’t help his mind drifting to Theea. She was so young that she probably wouldn’t even understand what it meant if he was to die. Regardless, he wouldn’t wish the death of a parent on any child. She wasn’t mad. There was a fury burning, raging inside of her, and if he didn’t have such practiced control over his expressions, he might have smiled at it. Was he happy? Of course not. He was so fucking relieved. Seeing that fire so alive in her... It was such a heart-tugging relief. Kalt frowned, his lips pressed tightly together, jaw feathering. He watched her lightning creation, an electric blade that captured his awe more than his fear. He wondered briefly if there was anything she could do that would actually scare him. He shoved it hurriedly from his thoughts as soon as a few ideas started coming to mind. ”I’m here to clear something up that I should have cleared back when I first had the chance,” he said. ”I did not kill your father.” He’d had countless opportunities in Northaven to clear the air between them, but he had been stubborn and foolhardy, wanting to take down their Master before confronting her and confessing the truth. But it was fool’s pride that kept him from just going to talk to her. He wouldn’t make that mistake again, not when she had already lost so much. There was no way he was justifying the question of how he found her. Ashe knew him better than any, and she would know that he could find anyone he wanted to find. However, it took someone important to chase through two new worlds. ”It’s not a game,” he said firmly. ”I have never played mind games with you, Ashe. I have never lied to you, not once. Whatever you’re feeling right now... Betrayal, anger, pain, confusion... Whatever it is, I promise you it was all Master’s doing. He manipulated us both then. I was on a job when your father was killed...I was following you.” He prayed, pleaded with whatever higher powers there were that she would listen to him, hear him. Master wasn’t the one who issued the kill, but who made the kill. Orynth was the archer in the Guild, but Kalt’s ability was incredible. The only one to perhaps surpass them both was Master. Ashe knew that, but the fact that it was his arrow... That black shafted arrow with his signature etched into it... His arrow made it hard to argue that he was being framed. She had gone for over two years believing that he had killed her father, taken the only family she had. He couldn’t blame her for the hurricane he imagined was whirling inside of her. Please, just believe. ”That job you were on when your father was killed...” He shook his head, taking another step forward and nearly closing the distance between them. ”Ashe, Master ordered me to follow you, make sure you didn’t fuck something up like the slaughter of guards.” The job she had come home from covered in blood... The aftermath of which earned Kalt the scars over his chest. He took a breath and looked at her, gritting his teeth and pulling on a memory. It was an incredible memory, before returning home to the Keep. It made him fall in love with her just a little bit more. ”You can’t cook for your life, so stole an entire duck and ate it on the roof.” A soft huff escaped him with the flicker of a smile. ”I almost joined you because it smelled amazing. You killed the wife with a dagger right here.” Kalt tapped his finger to his temple twice, his eyes never leaving her. ”The lord was with a pin to the throat, and you stayed to watch him slowly die. You stayed longer afterwards.” If she would allow it, he would reach for her arms, bare fingers brushing against her with a gentle yet firm hold. He was - perhaps stupidly - unafraid of her magic. ”You went to their study and spent way too much time captivated by a painting of the stars and the mountains at night when you could’ve just walked outside to see them.” His memory was perfect, just as he knew hers was. She would know that every word he said was true. Just hoped, gods, he fucking hoped it would be enough... Kalt took a slow breath. ”I’ve done a lot I wish I could take back... But I never, never betrayed you.” kalt give into the night.

Ashe clenched her jaw. No, she didn’t believe him, why the fuck should she believe him? S.W., carved into a black shafted arrow - always the showman, Silver Wing. What she wasn’t understanding is why was he here? Why did it matter, why bother? Master was dead. The Guild was dead. Northwind was gone, everything was gone. The Assassin in Blue might as well have been gone - she felt like she should be. Felt the blackness at her back, calling her in. She didn’t take her eyes from his face, couldn’t if she wanted to. She hated the deep familiarity, and every moment of looking at him had her plunging further into the depths of everything she worked so hard to bury. Run. Run, run, run. She couldn't kill him, couldn't manage it, knew she never could, so all she could do was run, wasn't it? Never played any mind games with her, never lied to her - gods, he was relentless. He was always relentless, the insufferable prick, and she just wanted this to be over. Why now, of all times? Why here? Waiting until after she broke herself down into whatever it was she was now, waiting until she drove away her family, this family she had tried so hard to build… she had tried so hard to be something else, to be something more than the twisted husk that came slinking through that first portal. Master had seen to it that every time she was finally at the peak of some sort of happiness, he knocked her back down to her knees. Seemed that Silver Wing wasn't waiting for her to be happy, he didn't need to. She crushed it all, drove away Alistair, all on her own. So here he was swooping in with a flimsy story to try and.. what? ”I was following you.” That was interesting. Her lip feathered, and then he was moving forward - towards her. Every muscle coiled, and she took a step back as he approached, her heart thundering through her. The contract she had nearly botched.. her ears nearly started ringing as she recalled the consequences they both had suffered for her mistakes. This was a ploy. It was another one of his pieces on the board, this story, moving it forward to get in close and make the opening. Likely to kill her, retribution after she left him for dead in the king's dungeons. Her eyes blazed as he went on - of course she remembered, how could she forget to final contract the Assassin in Blue ever accepted? She remembered swiping that duck from the kitchens, right under the noses of her targets. Anyone of the seniors could have been keeping tabs. Anyone could have told him that. She nearly scoffed, nearly rolled her eyes. The reports on how she eliminated her targets were easy to find… and something terrible twisted in her gut. Very few understood her brutality, her cold and merciless kills. She didn't talk about her life before, not freely, not in a way that allowed anyone to understand, she didn't want them to. She glossed over the details, told only what she needed to. To have it pulled from her memory by Silver Wing, her former teacher… Ashe flexed a hand as a rogue crackle of lightning shot up her arm. He could have gotten the report she had given without effort. He hadn't been with her. He hadn't. Gods, why was she even listening? She shouldn't. Cut him down or run, and she knew which she would pick. If she shifted now, she could get enough of a head start. She didn't. How long had it been since she'd seen this face she was never supposed to see again? Heard his voice? Pathetic. Then he reached for her. The world stopped for a moment, and then calloused fingers brushed her arm, and every nerve ignited at once. Her breath cracked from her chest at the contact, and lightning burst outwards, flaring along her skin and wildly into the air - but while his touch was soft, it was firm, and she froze before she could flinch away. Still, everything in her tensed, roaring at her to run... but the painting. That fucking painting of the mountains and water and swaths of pine forests that had reminded her so deeply of home, where she had been born, before she lost her mother, the farm, and left for the capital. Would any other assassin but him care to remember such an absurd detail? That she had sat on the floor and stared at a painting for the better part of that night? Ashe shuddered, her heart stumbling, and she moved back, out if his reach, leaving the ghost of his hand on her arms. No. He couldn't have been there. He hadn't. He'd killed her father while she was way, worked with Master to hide it from her and make her think her father had left her. ”No,” she hissed allowed, staring with sharp eyes up at him, eyes that were now lined in silver. ”No,” she said again, her voice trembling through clenched teeth. Breath was hard to maintain now. ”You weren't there, you weren't there, silver!” He couldn't be. He couldn't have been there, because if he was telling the truth? No, it had been him, he had crushed them, crushed her. If he had been with her on her final job… then that would mean she had … she had … How many lives have you destroyed, Ashetta? How many more before your heart gives out? The assassin took another step back, and lightning was snapping and hissing wildly from her now. He was right there. Right there. Her head was shaking. Jasper. MJ. Alistair. Gods, Alistair… How deeply did he hate her? She trembled as she looked upon Silver Wing, and she wondered how much he hated her. Enough to kill her father, he had to. But the painting… ”But I never, never betrayed you.” No, no, no, no, no! It wasn't true, wasn't possible. Her teeth clenched and her magic continued on, agitated and raw. ”And if you knew all of this,” she snarled. ”Why didn't you tell me before I left, silver? Why the fuck wouldn't you tell me all this back then if it were true?” Her hands trembled. It wasn't true, godsfucking damnit, it wasn't true! Kalt ashetta it's live or die my way.

He felt her withdraw, but it wasn’t like she was much more than a ghost of herself at that moment. Feeling her withdraw from him was nothing new. He had felt it before and would likely feel it again at some point. She listened. Underneath the disdain that she so clearly displayed, she listened. Thank the fucking gods. She could have run. She could have taken off and disappeared to the night with ease, but she didn’t. Part of him was wondering why she didn’t. Running was her survival mechanism. When she felt cornered or scared, she ran. Hells, she managed to run to another world to escape her past. She was good at running, at shoving those agonizing emotions deep down until she didn’t have to pay attention to them anymore, didn’t have to acknowledge them. In the Guild, that might have worked if he didn’t pry them out of her whenever he felt something off. Now? Now, she hadn’t had anyone dig into her past because everyone tiptoed around it. Was it painful? Damn fucking straight it was painful, but so was life. Life without pain is life wasted. You can only get as much joy as pain experienced, and he held onto that thought every time things started getting really hard. Kalt listened to her practically crying her denial of his claims. He didn’t expect her to take it well. In his dreams, she would have collapsed into his arms... They would have crumbled for each other, felt their magic mingling. They would have shed the armor they built for themselves in a matter of seconds just to fucking hold each other again. But this wasn’t a dream, a fantasy. This was reality, where life wasn’t as simple as being able to cast aside their doubts when the truth was presented. It wasn’t simple, and he knew he couldn’t make it simple, no matter how hard he tried. Crystalline eyes watched softly as she trembled, as her magic trailed over her skin and danced around her. He fought the urge to hold her, to keep her from shaking. Instead, Kalt stood fast where he was, watching her gently, carefully, once again memorizing every single movement and reaction. ”You shut me out completely!” He said. ”By the time I found out what happened to your father, you wouldn’t so much as look in my direction. If I had known...” His voice trailed, wavering slightly. ”If I had known, do you really think I would have done less than tear hells and creation apart to set things right?” He would have in an instant, without hesitation. He would have slain the gods themselves if it meant she knew the truth before any of this happened. He shook his head. ”You aren’t mad,” he said finally, his voice quiet compared to her shouting. ”You’re terrified.” Kalt took another step forward, brows drawing together just briefly. ”You’re terrified to believe that I’m telling you the truth right now. Why? What’s scaring you, Ashe?” He knew, but she had to say it, had to accept it. Ashetta kalt give into the night.

Her lip curled back in a snarl then. ”You're terrified.” Fuck him! She wasn't terrified, she was full of festering rage and pain and betrayal. Why was he being so fucking kind to her? So soft? He killed her father, she sold him out to the king, and she left him for dead - he had made it so clear when they had last seen each other. Her chest was heaving as she backed away another step, towards that dark where she go down and down and down, to lose herself. Away from this. Why now? Why was he here now? What's scaring you, Ashe? That sword of lightning crackled away then, vanishing as her hands lifted and raked into her hair, and she swore she felt that great chasm in her break further, echoing into the silence that was her head now, her soul. Mental walls were erected, as if in habit, as if she still feared Alistair feeling this part of who she was. But he already had, already had suffered her presence in his life and soul. “Only pain drives you, pain and anger, and misery are the trinity…” he’d said as he handed her soul back to her. “Your truest loves, and your heart, soul, and body belong to them.” Her heart, her soul, her body... he was right. And it hurt everyone she ever cared for. Ever loved. Gods, even after the betrayal of Silver Wing, after the betrayal of her Master, she had still loved, had tried to understand love outside of the Guild. She blackened it every time she touched it. Her head spun when she thought of Jasper, the lake of red, the tipped over chair in his office, the arm hacked away from the rest of his mutilated body. MJ, the note that promised he was dead. The threat to her husband. The unending worry and frustration of her friends as she desperately tried to understand how to survive and love and live and failed over and over again. Who and what she was could never be understood. The night terrors and paranoia and hunger for the violence that had always been her life since she began her training at six years old. She was never meant for things like love, no matter how freely her heart expended it. But perhaps that was wrong. Perhaps her heart was incapable of love, as Alistair had said. She could not be saved. It couldn't be true. It couldn't be true, because if it was.. then her curse for destroying the things that mattered most had begun long before Jasper's murder. Ashe turned away from him, and ran a hand over her face, pacing a few steps further into the mouth of the cavern. Misted eyes looked deeply into the dark that was so close now. She didn't speak for a long minute, but she could feel him behind her. She had done so well burying his face, his name, his voice down deep with all the other things she could not, would not face. She had killed Master, finally had ended his reign over her, and it hadn't been enough to bring her peace. And now.. now Silver Wing came leaping back into her life. Training with him, sitting with him. He had been with her on that final contract. He had been watching her, ever the dutiful watchdog for the reckless Assassin in Blue. Her hands dropped down to her sides, and her lightning crackled one last time.. and it vanished. Dissipated into nothing, emulating what was within the assassin. ”I left you to die,” she finally said, and her voice was tired. She turned around to face him then, forced herself not to flinch at meeting his gaze.. though she could not stop the way her lip trembled. Everything they had been, that they had fought for and bled for and suffered for, everything she thought had been some kind of sick game to him… all real. And she had been the one to throw it all away. Her arms wrapped around herself, her shoulders caving inwards as she turned fire-blues away from his crystalline stare. There was a softness there that shouldn't be. When would he plunge the dagger into her chest? She'd given him plenty of chances for it. Was there more he planned on, is that why he had stopped her from her descent? What kind of retribution did her former trainer have in store for her? She wasn't sure she cared to stop it. She was staring down at her cloak, at Reckoning safely stored in its scabbard. Her voice was flat when she spoke again, not looking up. ”When should I expect my end, Silver Wing?” Kalt ashetta it's live or die my way.

Seeing her like that in such a state of confusion and pain and anger… It ate away viciously at the man. He had to fight to suppress the urge to hold her. That urge was almost instinct to him, after doing it for over a decade in the Guild. He had invented kindness, tenderness for her, completely for her. She was seven the first time they held each other, and it had been after her first night terror. The fear in her eyes when he answered her with panicked anger forced him to create an approach that he had only read about in books, but it worked. After that, it was impossible to stop. Even now, after years of not so much as speaking to each other, it was still second nature that he had to deny. He watched the lightning leave her, and a part of him was relieved, while the other part was worried. Kalt didn’t like the way it flickered out, leaving her with what looked like a hollow anguish that was eating her alive. Her fingers moved through her hair, and he watched her thoughts tossing in a storm inside her mind. As she turned away and took a few steps deeper into the cavern, Kalt kept their distance the same, following her without hesitation. ’I left you to die.’ He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her fault, but he knew that it wouldn’t matter. She wasn’t in the frame of mind where anything he said to justify her actions would stay with her. If he knew her as well as he thought he did, anything positive he said to her would easily be twisted in some way, shape, or form to be directed against her. Ashe wasn’t good at dealing with her emotions, even less so when she was being forced to deal with them. She was right. She had left him to die in those dark, magic-suppressing cells in the dungeon of the castle. She had left him without an explanation, but when the word reached him that she had escaped, he made his escape. He caught up with her and confronted her, but still she didn’t explain. She threatened his life, he dared her to go through with it, but she hadn’t explained. He had needed answers that she wasn’t willing to give, so he followed her. He followed her to Northaven, watching from afar. Until he realized. His arrow in the eye of her father. The anger, the betrayal, the utter hatred for her that kept him moving and planning every single day was brutally ripped apart when he realized the truth, when he realized that she believed he had betrayed her. He couldn’t stay mad or hurt because she had every fucking right to feel the way she did. That didn’t make it any easier, though. She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t or wouldn’t, he wasn’t sure. She turned to face him with her eyes lowered and her arms wrapped around her. ’When should I expect my end, Silver Wing?’ Her question rang in his ears. With a slow breath, Kalt flicked the hidden blade out of his bracer, taking a few short strides to close their distance. He would gradually, carefully put the silver knife beneath her chin, tilting her head upward to meet her eyes. The blade against her skin was flat so it wouldn’t cut her even if she was to jerk away. He flicked the knife back into his bracer, out of sight, and replaced it with his fingers beneath her chin, his thumb brushing just beneath her lower lip, as he smiled gently at her. ”I’ll never draw your blood again,” he said in almost a whisper. That promise didn’t stand for training. Now that she knew who he was, he was positive she would want to train with him once again, and he was excited to do so. Neither one of them ever used dulled weapons, so some spilled blood was inevitable. But he would never raise a blade or a hand to her maliciously ever again. Every time before had been at the command of their Master, that demon who held their puppet strings, but he was gone and no one could force his hand again. He would wrap his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him if she allowed it. ”Told you you’d never be rid of me,” he muttered to her quietly. ”And Silver Wing isn’t my name, Ashe.” She was afraid to say his name, didn’t want to accept it, but he wasn’t going to allow her to feel that. He was here to stay. Ashetta kalt give into the night.

Her eyes still did not turn up when she heard his blade slide free. She waited for the fear, the bleating panic that she needed to grab her sword, to fight, to run… but there was nothing at all. Would it be a blessing, for him to slide that blade home, somewhere where her blood would spill from her too quickly to recover? What would be easier on her family: her disappearing, or her murder at the hands of someone that had every right to her blood? She stared down at her cloak and her sword with fractured eyes, exhausted eyes. She pulled in a sharp breath when steel warmed by being stored so close to his arm touched under her chin. She didn’t fight it as he tilted her face up, though it took her a moment to lift her eyes to him… His blade drew back then, and her heart plunged from the cliff it had been poised on when his hand replaced it. This isn’t real. How could it be? Calloused fingers held her chin, thumb rasping just below her lip. ”I’ll never draw your blood again.” Her blood turned to ice, and she outright shuddered as her mind skittered away from coherent thought, to somewhere dark. She had to shut her eyes briefly, grasp at the parts of herself that tried to escape her. After a moment, she opened her eyes once more, forced herself to slow her erratic heart. Breathe. This wasn’t right. The quiet forgiveness in his eyes wasn’t right. She had forced herself to hate him enough to leave him for the gallows, made herself move on and forget him. And she had been wrong. She didn’t know what to do. Nothing she could say would fix this. It was proof of the pattern that trying to be anything more than a weapon simply could not be done. You couldn’t place a dagger in a basket of roses and call it a flower, not when it was shredding all the petals. Ashe sucked in a sharp breath as his arms wrapped around her then, and she went as still as stone. Held her breath. Her heart felt like it would burst as she was pulled into him and all at once she wasn’t her anymore, not this version of herself - she was seventeen again, and she knew him and he knew her, and for a moment … just a moment … her shoulders fell, and she leaned forward to the solidity of him. Her eyes stared out into the night beyond the mouth of the underground, but it didn’t feel like she was there. The Keep, maybe. Or out on contract. He had said she would never be rid of him. Promised, she remembered when he did. Then her lips parted with a shaking breath with his next words: ”And Silver Wing isn’t my name, Ashe.” ” Kalt .” Kalt’s name fell from her lips near immediately, as if some sort of reflex, and … gods … gods. How long had it been since she had said his name, even thought it? Kalt. Kalt Ravenshire. Ashe shuddered and suddenly drew herself away from him, something in her coiling tightly and snarling at her. Idiot girl. Her hands clenched tightly to her arms as she cast her eyes downwards, biting down on her lip until it bled. She was not who she once was. What had she done with her life? What was it that she was now? Whatever Kalt remembered in her, whatever strength or clarity.. that was gone now. Ashe paused stepped towards her cloak, staring down at it for a few breaths, her hands digging into her arms to hide their shaking. There was the threat of tears, but she didn’t let them fall. Instead … she gingerly lowered herself down to the ground, crossing her legs beneath her as she sat down beside her cloak. Her hand reached out and took a worn corner of it into her hands, her thumb running over the fabric, over threads that were beginning to come loose. She didn’t speak, as if just saying his name took everything from her. She stared down at the deep blue, her signature cloak that had earned her painfully obvious alias from the masses. Ashe swallowed past the lump in her throat and flicked her eyes up to him again. Still, she remained silent, and finally she let herself look at him. Really look at him. Kalt had chanced too. He seemed harsher. She had never seen him let his facial hair grow this much and.. She furrowed her brow, then her jaw feathered as she clenched her teeth and looked back down to her cloak. ”You tattooed your face.” ashetta it's live or die my way.

A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as his name practically fell from her lips the moment it was allowed to. He felt the way she initially leaned into his embrace, not returning it, but not drawing away. He didn’t need her to return it. Just moments ago, she had been ready to forget her life and disappear into perhaps one of her deepest – literally – fears. If she wasn’t ready to return a hug, he would survive. He felt the small shaking as she stepped back. Kalt didn’t fight to keep her against him, though he had to admit it was an intoxicating feeling. He knew he missed her, but having her right there, holding her for however short of a time it was… It dragged that ache in his chest to the surface which he had worked to shove down deep enough to bury. There was a strange feeling of solace that settled over him when she stepped away and lowered to the ground near her cloak. Why? He didn’t know. Maybe it was the likelihood of her sprinting away lowering when she was on the ground. Maybe it was just her connecting with her cloak, with her old life and him by extension. Whatever it was, he didn’t need it to be explained, didn’t want it to be explained. His eyes remained on her, never wavering while thoughts and emotions he couldn’t yet define swirled chaotically behind them. There was a small grin on his face when she turned back to him. Kalt kept his mouth shut as her eyes searched him, and he knew what she was doing. It wasn’t difficult to figure out after not seeing each other for about two years. He couldn’t help the bright smile that showed itself when she commented on his tattoo. Silver Wing nodded slowly with pursed lips. ”Observant as always,” he mused slightly sarcastically. ”I’ll tell you about it later, ‘kay? Not important now. Come on.” He offered her his hand and would help her back to her feet if she accepted. Part of him had a feeling she wouldn’t, but he still made the gesture. kalt give into the night.

Ashe chewed the inside of her lip as she stared down at the rich blue of her cloak, at the glint of silver against the dark metal of Reckoning. She tried to work through everything in her head, the thoughts pounding like a drum. He had been with her on that final contract, as he had been on so many others. He hadn’t fired that arrow. He hadn’t betrayed her. He hadn’t been toying with her for years, it hadn’t all been a lie. Her lips parted just barely as it got hard to breathe, and sharp pain lanced in her chest. She had betrayed him. Not the other way around. Sold him out to the king, left him to rot in the dungeons and face the gallows. Alone. She should be dead. Silver Wing should have plunged his blade into the Assassin in Blue a long time ago. Her eyes darted up at the sound of his voice, the absolutely normal expression on his face. Lips pursed and that tone in his voice… Ashe couldn’t quite identify the feeling of pairing it was this changed look of his - the facial hair and the tattoo and.. the distance. It was unsettling, such a casual and normal way of speaking when there was this vast chasm between them. She could almost hear the snap of ropes, the sound of snapping necks and strangled gurgles, kicking legs as ropes creaked. Her eyes shuttered, and she felt her body shake as wind swept through and over her skin. You did this, something cruel hissed at her in the back of her mind. Then.. then Kalt stretched his hand out to her, and once again the world seemed to slow down around them. Her eyes locked on it, and she froze entirely for a moment. I’ll tell you about it later, kay? She turned her eyes up at him again with a long look, and she realized he meant that there would be a later. Lips parted as she let out a shaking breath, and she wondered if she should shift, if she should run. She wanted to, gods, she wanted to shift and just run and run and run until she couldn’t breathe again, until her paws bled, her legs shook, until she didn’t have to feel something break every time she thought anything. The raven-haired girl glanced away from Kalt and his outstretched hand, turning to look over her shoulder at the suffocating dark that hovered, pulling inwards, down, down, down… For the first time since she approached the underground, icy claws of fear slowly sank into her heart. Her heart fluttered and her limbs felt light, and she turned away from it, back to Kalt and his offered help to rise to her feet. She stared at his hand for a long and quiet moment.. Then she flicked fire-blue eyes up to meet his. Run, idiot girl. Ashe reached up and slipped her slender, scarred hand into Kalt’s. [ end thread ] ashetta it's live or die my way.