Anonymous asked:

Perhaps hero is new to the team and the others don't know about their traumatic past? Shorts or a t-shirt for the first time and !boom! Scars.

Plush Clouds in a Summer Sky:

Please heed tags

******

Sam's hand closed on the doorknob and he slowly, agonizingly slowly, twisted it clockwise. When he was sure the metal piece was pulled all the way back into the door, he peeked out- first just cracking the door, then opening it more, and more.

He looked left.

He looked right.

Coast is clear, he thought, and emerged from his room.

His bare feet softly pattered against the wood flooring. Normally, Sam would walk much louder than this- not obnoxiously, but not so carefully as he was right now either.

Right now. Right now, it was well passed dark, and that meant Sam was in his night clothes. He was in his night clothes because he had been sleeping like everyone else in the house. The difference between Sam and the rest of the crew was that he couldn't be seen wearing night clothes.

#captivity tw #whipping mention #trauma #recovery after trauma #referenced torture tw #stuttering #whump #hero whumpee #request fill #queue #this is unedited because I shouldn't even be awake so I apologize in advance

amethystpath-writes

P1 Dehnere

It's been a second since I did BTHB, but here we are! (This isn't a continuation of anything)

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: On The Run

Fandom: Original

******

BTHB On The Run:

"Do you know," The fae's voice bounced off every tree, echoing, passing through the escapee's ears more times than necessary. "How madly irritating, and yet fascinating, it is to see you run?" He paused and Dehnere imagined he was smiling, smiling in a relaxed position, probably watching through her eyes as she ran, tracking her, and sending word to the shepherds as he did so. She kept running. "It's cute for now, that you think you'll be successful, but if you keep at it, I won't find it as such. You should stop now before you regret it "

A tree root ripped from beneath the ground, landing several feet ahead of Deh. She stopped, panting. It was obvious what it meant. If she turned away now, turned back to her captor's home, she would be spared several nights without food, and the food he offered was so great. But if she crossed the line the root created- well, she didn't know. The fae man never harmed her when he perhaps could have. Still, she'd never done something so serious as trying to run away.

"Choose wisely, young human."

Dehnere swiveled on a heel, swearing his voice was just behind her, but there was no one there. "Your kind is easy to taunt," he jested behind her again. Breathing heavily, she turned for a second time. Nothing.

"What do you want?" she demanded of the woods. Surely he was listening and not just watching. "Why won't you let me leave?" Deh wished for nothing more than for her voice to stop wavering. If she only sounded a little stronger, maybe he would let her go.

"I want you to return to the manor. Your dinner grows cold."

The human shook her head wildly. "I want to go home."

There was a chuckle that flittered between the trees, racing passed her and beyond the root line. "You had no home before me. And anyways, I didn't ask what you wanted," he remarked, "but you asked me."

A panicked breath raked through Dehnere. Something touched and now held her shoulder. Her hands twitched at her sides.

"Humans are rare, you know?" A squeak escaped Deh at hearing the fae's voice. This time there was no doubt he was really behind her. "And not only this, but they are defenseless."

"Why are you telling me this?" Her voice was a scared whisper. She kept her eyes screwed shut, hoping if she squeezed them tight enough then when she opened them again, she'd wake up on the street of her old village.

"Why?" The fae laughed, sliding his hand from the human girl's shoulder to her arm, and eventually down to her hand. "Have you forgotten your very own question?" Dehnere said nothing. Instead, the fae man could tell she was relaxing her breathing. "'Why won't you let me leave?'" he repeated to her. "Because if I would have left you, another fae would have found you." His thumb stroked an arch against the backside of her hand. "And they wouldn't have been so kind."

Deh snapped. "You haven't been kind." She snatched her hand away, and though it still shook, she was proud of her spark of defiance.

She hated that he laughed again, like she was a game, or a toy to play with until it was broken. "You don't listen well, do you?"

Dehnere's only response was to swallow, hands forming fists at her sides.

"I perhaps haven't been as kind as you would like, but I think I have been kind enough in providing you food, shelter, life." His blacks eyes had a sudden spark of white. It was terrifying to say the least, but they captured Deh's attention like nothing else the fae had done. "I could have left you in that ruined town. Could have let you starve yourself, or let you be enslaved by another crueler fae. You are lucky," he sneered at her. "You are lucky to be so fortunate as to be found by me."

Silence followed for moments to come. Finally, though, the fae spoke. "Go ahead and run," The root ever so slowly sunk itself back into the ground, the dirt patching over it. "But don't expect me to save you again. I won't."

******

Part 2 here

Can't believe I only have three more! Requests are accepted!

amethystpath-writes

Anonymous asked:

I’m craving angst but with some caretaking mixed in!

Think this is more fluff than anything, but hopefully it satisfies your cravings a little bit!

(TWs: Needles (briefly at beginning), stitches (briefly at beginning), mentioned past captivity, self doubt, disassociation )

******

"Do you even understand how much trouble you're in?"

Hero winced, a sharp prick of pain in her arm. "Yeah, I think I- ah! I think I get it."

Leader shook his head, pushing the thin bit of metal through his lover's skin once again. "I don't think you do, Hero. Because if you did, I wouldn't be-" He was interrupted by another of Hero's quick gasps of pain. "Just one more," he said. "I wouldn't be patching you up right now. I know you think you can handle these things on your own, but," His voice cracked. Hero thought is she opened her eyes, she would see Leader tearing up. "Hero, I need you to be okay. Because if you're not okay, then I'm not okay, and then the whole team falls apart."

"But I can do it," she promised. "I know I can. Leader, I didn't used to be on a team. I used to be my own operation, under the radar. This is just all so new and I-"

Leader stood from his stool and turned to the medicine cabinet. His love cringed as he pulled out a brown-amber bottle. "I know this is difficult for you, but you're here now, and you can't go off fighting every threat. They're prepared now, dear. They know who you are and anyone who thinks of committing any atrocity now knows to expect you. They train based off of your capabilities." As he spoke, he reached into another cabinet and pulled out a bag of cotton balls. "I know this is harsh to say, but you don't have much of a chance without someone by your side, even just as backup. I'd feel worse saying this if you weren't a pile of evidence to prove my point."

"I know you think that, but I- What if I quit the team? You guys would be good on your own. And maybe that way, crime is diminished at least a little faster since I'd-" She hissed as the cotton ball touched her cheek.

"If you quit the team, that doesn't fix the fact that every crook in the world knows your name, your face, your capabilities."

Hero bit her cheek, holding back words she knew would be hurtful. She loved Leader. She could never imagine not loving him, but she regretted letting him talk her into joining this stupid team of heroes. Before them, Hero fought crime, fought whole organizations, and won before they even knew she was there, with the exception of her last operation. Still, and she hated blaming anyone, the opponent always knew the team of heroes was there. There was always an ambush, a surprise attack. Nothing was easy like it was when she was solo, even if she was captured just the one time.

The burning cotton touched her skin again. "Can we just...can we stop? I feel fine."

"You'll get an infection if I don't clean you up. Trust me, you don't want that."

Hero repeated a little differently, "I can take care of myself."

Leader shook his head, a soft frown crossing his features. "Here, then." He spun and grabbed the amber bottle, along with the bag of cotton balls, and handed them to Hero. "Take care of yourself. I won't step in the way anymore if that's what you want."

She stared at his hands, at the objects in them before finding his face again. "I'm frustrated," she admitted, suddenly softer than she was before. "I'm not used to anyone being there to help me. I'm not used to having to rely on others. Everything was so much easier when I just did things on my own." Hero kept her hands on her lap. She looked at them now, pondering. It was such an odd question she came up with, but she thought, Are these really my hands?

The world felt oddly away from her. There was a time where she could reach out and feel every bit of Earth, of life, but things were different now. Her body didn't feel like her own, and it wasn't from the pain Villain caused on her last runoff. It was...it was something deeper than that.

Leader must have sensed her fall of emotion because he set the medical supplies on the counter, lightly grabbed one of Hero's hands, and brought it to his lips, kissing it just as gently as he held hold of it. Then, he pulled her close to him. "I love you," he told her. "You know that, right?"

"I know," she said quietly, letting herself be held. No one was this careful with her. It was why she spited Leader sometimes, but also the reason she loved him more than anything. "I've ready said it, but I regret letting you save me sometimes. I think that I should have been stronger and I should have saved myself."

"Darling, you-"

"Let me finish," she said. "I have thoughts like that often and they're miserable and the world feels unreal, but," Hero pulled away from Leader's hug. "You make me realize that it's okay to have a crutch. Without them, you can't heal. I'm still adapting to the idea, but I've acknowledged it and I think that's a good first step."

Leader hummed in agreement. "I know times aren't easy for you, love, but after everything you've been through, I don't think I could even stand anymore. You amaze me every day, my dear."

A tear glimmered in her eye before she swatted it away with an unbruised hand. "I love you, Leader. I really do." She smiled, not kindly, but mischievously. "Now how about a little race to the kitchen? I can hear Teammate sizzling some bacon."

******

Part 2 here

amethystpath-writes

A Gentle Blade Part 11

Part 10 here

Tag list: @tears-and-lilies

This one is mostly fluff, but here are the few trigger warnings I can think of. As always, please lmk if I missed any!

TWs: torture mention, captivity

******

'How long did you convince the queen to leave me in my misery?' Leera asked Sir Guard. Her voice was surprisingly unbroken, not in shambles like the rest of her, though she didn't feel the normal pain she should have- given her state.

'As long as you need,' the guard told her. It was sad to see him in the dungeon with Leera. After all, he'd made it plenty obvious he didn't want to be in her position, even if he didn't say so clearly. And although he wasn't prisoner, being in any position in a cell would be daunting.

The assassin stiffened. She knew the action should have made her feel pained, but she felt nothing. Her skin should have felt chilled in the cell, but it didn't. She didn't feel anything; she only thought and acknowledged things. 'That could be forever,' she said. It sounded more sad than she meant it to.

'Then it's forever that Her Majesty will leave you.' His lips turned up before splitting at their seam. Sir Guard had teeth, and it sounded ridiculous, but they looked magnificent to the assassin. Leera didn't recall ever seeing them like this. He'd sneered and done other harsh things with his mouth, but he'd never smiled with it like this.

As like any time before, Leera asked her private guard, 'Who are you?'

His smile faltered only to say, 'My name is...' The voice shrunk, became quiet and Leera feared for a moment that the queen came in. She thought she heard the guard's kind words, his optimism, and decided to strike him down before he could give the assassin any hope.

***

Ceasing to ponder why Sir Guard's voice trailed off, Leera opened her eyes and found herself in the same place she always was, the same place she even occupied in her dreams.

It was now that Leera felt the ache in her chin and chest, the stiffness in her limbs, and the cramp in her neck. The assassin felt reality again. She almost wished she could go back to the dream, even if it meant seeing the queen again. At least in the dream there was no truly felt pain, only implied pain. Her skin was still marred, still damaged, but she hadn't felt it when her eyes were closed.

"You're thinking," Sir Guard observed out of the blue. It made Leera jump. On one hand, she was happy to hear his voice, but on another, it was disappointing to see he wore no smile.

The assassin nodded her head.

"What about?"

Leera almost chuckled before quickly remembering that the action would only hurt her. She was healing, but it was only two days ago that her skin had been pierced in four places. "Are you asking me to tell you a story now?" At least she could speak with less pain now. Her chin wasn't as damaged as her chest.

Sir Guard chuckled softly, and he did smile, but only barely. Leera was disappointed there was no white in that smile. Did his teeth even look the way the way they did in the dream? Should it have mattered? "Well, you were out for a couple of hours. Is it right of me to assume you have a few stories to tell?"

"It's not," she said. "I only had a single dream."

"Should I play a guessing game or will you share this dream?"

A smile tugged at Leera's lips. She allowed her lips to split apart, if only it would give Sir Guard a hint. "I'm curious what you think I'd dream about."

Almost, the assassin thought. He almost smiled the way I saw him.

"An easy guess would be- well that seems insensitive-"

"It wasn't about an escape, though that would be a nice ideal if there weren't bounty hunters in the woods."

He nodded. His smile had fallen by now. It made Leera sad in a way she couldn't describe. She supposed that's what happened when a secretive guard was her only company.

Sir Guard tried again, "About your childhood?"

"I try to think of that little."

For another time, he nodded. "Was it a nightmare?"

Leera shook her head slowly, carefully.

"I'm bad at this game," he said flatly.

"You've only guessed twice. Give me at least one more."

He thought about it for several minutes, no doubt trying to think of what an assassin might dream about.

Finally, he asked, "Was it about a different life?"

"Close," the assassin told him. "Try again."

"But you said-"

"And now I'm telling you to give me at least another guess more."

Sir Guard sighed, looked blankly at the wall across from him. "I don't have another guess."

"You want me to tell you?" He nodded, so Leera said, "You smiled. A full smile. That was my dream."

His brows shot up as he took in the words. The assassin smiled herself at the large breath he took. It was as if no one else ever told him they dreamed of him smiling. Maybe it was a forward statement, but Leera knew she didn't fancy the guard. He was...well, he was a friend of sorts. He was the only person Leera had besides her tormentor. And anyway, Sir Guard gave her a story when she needed it. It was only fair that she told him the one dream she had.

When Sir Guard commented nothing else, she began, "You said you were able to keep the queen away. For how long?" She hoped for nothing more than for him to say as long as she needed, even if it was forever.

Unfortunately, Sir Guard wasn't the man in her dreams. That was someone different, but it was okay; Leera would coax a real smile into him eventually.

"However long until she decides you're healed enough that she can...well, you know..."

"Yeah..."

"Good for you, though, she has a sort of conference with leaders of the next kingdom she's trying to take control of."

Leera's brows drew together. "You mean like kings and generals and whatnot?" She paused, digging into the situation and trying to understand it. "They are willing meeting with Queen Rennera, who wants to take over their lands?" He nodded. "And they're aware that she plans to take their thrones, make commands, to rule?" Sir Guard nodded again, and Leera gave a small laugh which barely brought a sting in her chest. "How does that work?"

"Easy. She's the former king's wife. They think she's as bad as he is- was."

"She is."

"You're one person," Sir Guard explained. "If she can prove in front of her staff that she's vicious to you, they'll assume she'll be vicious to anyone. And word spreads. Notice how she's never laid a hand of her own on you?"

Leera pointed at a random place on her cheek. She couldn't remember where the queen dragged a nail down her face, but it was somewhere around where she pointed and Sir Guard would get the message.

"Were there guards nearby?" Leera nodded. "And were you acting out against her word?" She nodded. I apologized to her instead of a dead man. "There you go. She was proving herself. That's what being royal is. That's all it is. Royalty is proving yourself to everyone, all the time."

"Is that who you are, then?" Leera asked and laughed. It hurt, but the laugh was unconstrained. "Are you the prince from that story you told? What was his name? Dogars. Yes, that's it."

He didn't wait a beat. "Of course not. My name isn't Dogars. I like to read stories, but I forget them afterwards. What I don't forget are the patterns I've recognized in them." Sir Guard took a breath. "And a pattern that I've recognized is that kings and queens, princes and princesses...they have a lot of pressure on them."

"I hope you're not defending the queen."

"No, no. I wouldn't. I despise her. I-I think she's terrible and I hate everything that she's done. The queen is-"

"You don't have to go on. If you did, I think you'd pass out. I might pass out if you continue."

"You better not. I was getting bored standing here with no one to talk to."

Leera smiled. "Are you saying you actually enjoy an assassin's company?"

He seemed to consider the question and though he didn't smile when he said, "Maybe," she still felt him smiling on the inside. It was all she would need to make it through another day knowing she was still in the queen's grasp.

******

Part 12 here

amethystpath-writes

whump-me-all-night-long asked:

For BTHB, could you do cold blooded torture for Leera and Rennera? I absolutely love them!!

Hiya! I'm so glad you love my characters! It really means a lot to me :) Thank you for the request!!

Leera/Rennera Request Fill (out of the timeline)

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Cold-Blooded Torture

Fandom: Original Work

TWs: I think we can assume the lot of these given the prompt but----> torture, blood, restrained, captivity, whipped, scratched by nail, threats of worse treatment, blood, burned by hot metal (not branded), forced apology, mention of muscle damage

******

The queen's steps thudded against the floor like an unbearable drum. Only Leera's own harsh breathing could tune it out.

"Again," Rennera said and the assassin released a hearty cry as leather slapped against her back. Her elbows drove inwards, but to no avail could she stop the pain being caused. Her wrists were sore, tugging constantly, pathetically, at the chains bounding them.

Rennera tutted. "You would think that after all this time..." The queen stepped beside Leera's head, which was pressed firmly to the stone table she was restrained on. Rennera smiled at the sweat streaming from the assassin's hairline. "You would think," she repeated, and delicately dragged a nail down Leera's arm, causing a shudder, "you would just apologize."

An incoherent noise tumbled from the assassin's lips before Leera was able to mutter, "I have." Her voice was quiet, but gravely. Someone might have said her voice was tossed into a tumbler, then given back with missing slivers. Another symptom of brokenness, but the assassin would never accept that fact. She wasn't broken; she was still fighting. "I have apologized," Leera groaned again.

"And what has the problem been? What have I told you on every occasion?"

"It wasn't true."

"What wasn't?" The queen drew another line, this one less delicate than the first stroke, this one coming close to breaking the skin.

"The- the apology. It wasn't true." Leera grimaced at Rennera's nail touching her skin. She became very consciously aware of the scarred line on her face.

"And?" the queen asked.

"And if it's not true," she swallowed. "If it's not true then I'll- I'll never leave." But she had. Leera had escaped many times, only it never lasted. The assassin's face was posted everywhere, at all times. Paper over paper of her aging face was displayed on town square notice boards, on trees in every woods, even dyed on banners that hung from the palace itself. Leera was searched for even at times when the queen hadn't lost her.

A whine rose in the assassin's throat as she felt her skin split, felt a single bead of warm blood slide down the curve of her arm until it touched the table. "Good girl," the queen said in a high voice, as if she were speaking to a little girl. It was appropriate; Leera felt little. "Now, apologize again." Rennera stood, began walking circles around her revenge canvas once again.

"I-I can't. I can't. Please. Please, I can't do what you-"

"Again!" the queen yelled. At almost the same time, the man behind Leera cracked down on her back, earning a clipped scream from the assassin as her voice gave at the sudden outburst. "Apologize."

Leera couldn't speak and instead gagged on the pain streaking her back and shoulders.

The footsteps stopped once more. Rennera hummed. "Give me your dullest knife, servant." Leera could hear the torturer lay down his whip before shuffling through his various devices. "Yes, that one!"

The assassin's chest rose in quick gasps. It hurt too much for full breaths. It stretched the muscles too much. Leera felt she wasn't breathing enough, and a part of her thought not breathing at all would feel better. She needed a numb; she needed rest. Before she could close her eyes, something cold touched her back and she startled with a high-pitched scream. Leera swore she smelled metal, but is it the knife or my own blood? She physically shook away the thought, despite the miserable pain moving caused.

Queen Rennera sighed, twisting the knife in her hand, spinning the dull tip against an unscathed part of Leera's back. "I can't tell if I have actually broken you or if you are being stubborn as usual." The knife pressed harder, still twisting.

I'm not broken. I've never been and never will be. Not by you, or anyone. With those thoughts still came the inevitable, But I hurt. Gods, I hurt. I want to sleep. I want... Leera would run away soon. She would run again, even if it meant another night of furious torture. Leera just needed a break. When she was healed from this night, she would run again, she swore it.

With a newfound courage, Leera, still in immense pain from the whip, said, "You want," The assassin allowed herself one deep breath, face skewering as she focused on holding it in as her flesh tore with the action. When the burn subsided, she used that focused breath to finish saying, "You want something that I can't- I can't give y- agh!" The metal pushed against her spine, pinning her to a table she was already pinned on. Leera felt a block in her throat. It was out of place and her body wanted it out so it gagged again. Her stomach acted with the block, pushing an invisible barrier out. It churned and twisted along with the fires in her back. No matter how hard her body tried, Leera wasn't pushed to the point of throwing up yet.

"You need only apologize to him," the queen said, referring to the dead king as she always did. Her voice, though, was soft, falsely sympathetic. "And this will all be over, my dearest Leera." The assassin pushed her forehead harder onto the stone table, screaming at the top of her lungs with a plea as the queen pushed the dagger harder onto the spine, not enough to shatter it, but enough to send the nerves on a panicked spree. Rennera didn't even break the skin, hence a dull blade.

"I'm sorry!" Leera finally sputtered. "I'm sorry!" and her voice rose an octave. If she could have pounded a fist against the table, she would have.

"I would threaten to cut out your tongue if it meant you could speak without it," Rennera spat.

Click,click- clack. It was the knife, falling to the floor. Leera released a sigh of relief. Another warm tear followed the edge of her cheekbone.

The queen called her servant again, this time asking for a clamp.

"I'm sorry," Leera drawled with a whine. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She took shallow breaths again, listening as the queen neared once more. "And I mean it," she said truthfully. "I do. I'm sorry, my queen, for everything. I'm sorry." I'm not broken, but I'm in pain. I must stop this pain. She didn't lie. Leera felt badly for killing the king, but she felt no pity for him. It was the queen she felt badly for. Unfortunately, that wasn't what the queen wanted, and that's why Leera put off her apologies for as long as possible. Not saying one at all was better than giving one to the queen, who didn't want it for herself.

"Start me a fire." The assassin screamed her apologies louder, nearly losing her voice.

Each 'sorry' only earned her another punishment, for the queen was sick of being apologized to. Leera should be apologizing to the man she killed. Why didn't the assassin feel as bad as Rennera for the king's death? Why didn't she feel just as guilty? One day, the queen thought, one day she'll understand the pain she caused in her reputation if she only experiences it herself.

Red hot, the spiked clamp was brought back by the servant. Rennera urged him to hand her the device faster and the moment he did, she situated her fingers in the handles, before opening the closed tips and pressing it against the skin of the assassin's left arm. As Leera screamed, the queen said, perhaps not loudly enough to affect the assassin further, "Don't worry, dearest. I won't damage the muscles too awfully."

amethystpath-writes

A Gentle Blade Part 8

Part 7 here

Please heed the TWs just below;

TWs: Forced kiss, noncon touching, noncon kiss, captivity, gagged and bound, creepy whumper, forced to do whump

******

The door swung open so widely and so quickly that Leera's male captor had no time to protect his face. If it weren't the queen being the one who stepped in, the assassin would have laughed at the dumbfounded expression on the man's face. In the laughter's stead was Rennera's gasp.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, stepping through further and pulling the door cracked behind her before latching her hands to Sir Guard's face. She tapped lightly at his cheeks. "That doesn't hurt, does it?"

With wide eyes, he shook his head. Leera barely heard him mutter, "No, Your Majesty. It gave me more of a fright than anything." His arms were stiff at his sides, fingers twitching. So he itches, too.

"In any case, perhaps this will help." Now Leera's pupils turned to discs. The queen lifted herself on her toes, kept a hand on Sir Guard's cheek, then planted a kiss on the other. He cleared his throat shortly after and nodded his head towards Leera. The assassin finally had the sense to avert her eyes as the queen regarded her. "Oh, my assassin. I forgot you were there. I believe it's nearly time that our audience becomes the performer." Leera didn't know what the queen meant by that, but she didn't like it.

Before Rennera said anything else, she began walking towards Leera. Her lips pursed and she faced Sir Guard again. "You took her leash-gag," she observed aloud.

Leera bit her tongue, swallowed, and stayed silent. "Her cries were annoying me. She was wheezing. Guessing her nose was blocked with snot and she couldn't breathe out of her mouth with it being stuffed." He added, "I'd be happy to replace it if that's what you wished."

He lied. The assassin's lips parted. Was it for himself or for me? Leera hadn't been crying. Complaining, maybe, but that was only after he initially removed the gag. Why did he remove it, she wondered.

"I suppose that's good enough reason," the queen said, facing Leera once more. "Next time you should get me so I may hear it first. Perhaps my presence during the time will remind her of- well, you know." Leera wanted to tell the queen she didn't stick around for the king's dying breaths. She never allowed herself to hear her victims' cries or pleas. It was too difficult to listen to, even if a part of her knew they deserved death. "Anyway, she can remain without that gag for n- Actually! Yes, yes. Put it back on. It will make her introduction much more exciting." Rennera clapped like a little girl, excited she was given a new doll. It was similar. Leera was the queen's doll to throw, squeeze, toss around.

It was nearly impossible for the assassin not to question what was going on. Sir Guard certainly wasn't questioning anything, but Leera could see that he was uncomfortable. It was clear in his stance, his legs were spread too wide, like he wasn't sure what was reasonable. One foot faced inwards; he was questioning whether they should be spread at all. Maybe his legs were supposed to be tied together. His gaze had no aim. He looked in Leera's direction, but his wide eyes revealed that he was putting in his best effort to not look directly at the assassin. He did, however, glance at the queen many times. Leera saw, without a doubt, he was nervous.

There was a tsk and the assassin's attention was drawn to Rennera once again. "My future king removes your gag once and you find yourself fancying him?" Leera shook her head. "Then what was it?"

"He was admiring you, my queen," she responded cautiously. Was this a granted time of speech? "And I was observing him do so." Now I've lied for him.

The queen tutted and faced the still-nervous guard. Leera could barely see the queen's cheek gather into a ball as she smiled. "I would never believe my sweet assassin, but seeing that tension in you, my dear..." Rennera sauntered back to the guard, a wicked playful smile on her lips. "Kiss me," she said.

"My Queen, I don't-"

"Hush, now, and just do it." Her fingers began to trail up his back until her hands hung over his shoulders, her nails facing herself. "You are nervous, darling. You don't have to be. Kiss me." One of her hands moved to the base of his neck and though Leera couldn't see it, she knew her fingers were pushing against the back of his head, pushing it towards her own. Leera felt a knot in her stomach. She looked away, but her stomach twisted further as she heard Sir Guard's lips separate from the queen's. It was better than the queen finding Sir Guard nervous for no reason. That was a cause for suspicion and he seemed like he couldn't afford that by how nerved he was.

"Now," the queen sighed. She sounded as if she were floating in a daydream. "My performer needs her garb. Would you like the honours this time, my future king?"

He took a look at Leera, shook his head while the queen wasn't looking, but then said, "It would be my pleasure." Now it was Rennera who held the assassin's hair back while Sir Guard shoved the dirty rag in Leera's mouth, and fastened it in with a leather collar meant to go around the neck. When he was finished, he handed the metal chain attached to the collar to the queen, who yanked on it nearly as soon as she grasped it. The assassin gasped, cried out, and launched forward to avoid the jerk it would cause. Her head still swum at the sudden movement.

"Come, come. On your feet. We have entertainment to provide."

******

Part 9 here