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sylverstorms · 3 years

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Cassandra Dimitrescu x Maiden ----Valiant

The tavern is lively in the evening.

A fact you are endlessly grateful for. It provides an imperfect little sanctuary to drown out the mad howling from the outside.

The shrill sound is nothing new, nor out of the ordinary for you; it has been with you your entire life. Ever since you were a child, you remember the fear it instilled and the nights it kept you awake, shivering in terror underneath the covers of your bed. You remember the stories your mother told you about the monsters lurking in the darkness of the forest… even more so now that her warnings and tales are all you have of her.

Perhaps that subconscious terror is the very reason which had you seeking work at the inn.

You could do literally anything else in the village than tolerate the half-mad grouch that is the owner –he never even pays on time— yet you are still here. Possibly to escape the cold walls of your empty house at night. Possibly to avoid being alone with the howls and the padding right out your door. You don’t know how the other villagers do it. They’re either braver, denser or crazier than you give them credit for.

As for yourself, you know for a fact you are not as strong as other people think you are. Maybe it is your sturdy build that tricks them, or the killer glare you’ve perfected over the years of putting up with the town’s shit. Whatever the case, you are in no hurry to debunk the lie, even while you recognize it for what it is.

A distant howl threatens to crack the cocoon of safety you’ve convinced yourself you’re tucked into, so you focus on the drunken chatter and the bard’s soft music a tad harder. It’s just the wind. Just the wind out there. Your knuckles are white around the bear glass you’re in the process of cleaning.

And then something strange catches your eye.

At a shadowed, quiet corner of the tavern, a shopkeeper is speaking to a hooded woman. The scene would not be anything out of the ordinary… only, you know just about every individual in this damned village –it comes with the job— yet you do not recognize her.

And you’d remember that tight, lithe figure, that is for certain.

There aren’t many girls in the village who can make plain black robes look like an article right out of a fashion magazine. So, yes, she is the first thing your mind settles on. But your attention quickly shifts to the person she’s talking to. The man has had far too much wine to drink –you’d know, you served it— and he’s not exactly the type you’d trust being inebriated around women. Already, he’s looking at her like a starved beast salivating over a freshly cut steak.

Your hazel eyes narrow at his direction.

“I will ask you for the final time. Do you have what I ordered for my mother?” the girl asks, her silvery voice curling slowly around every word, as if she’s talking to a toddler or a fool. It’s as funny as it is cute, but you can’t let yourself smile just yet. Something in his gaze takes all the mirth out of the situation for you.

Instinctively, you’ve moved closer.

“I have it. Yes, of course. Come with me an’ I’ll give it to you.” There is a very obvious slur to his words that inspires no confidence.

You want to shout when the girl so very easily follows him outside.

There are too many things wrong with that thought. Her, possibly new to the village, alone with a lecher like him. Her, unprotected, out in the dark, where every soul in this cursed place knows not to be.

Suddenly, you’re hyperventilating and you don’t know why. You don’t know her and her wellbeing is none of your concern. Everyone in the town is out for themselves, that part was made abundantly clear to you a long time ago. There is no room for compassion, especially at night. She made a bad decision and the consequences are her own to deal with.

You are not a heroine to follow her out and save her from the wolves and the man’s intentions and the rumored monsters. You are not that good of a person. You know it like you know the sky is blue; you are not that brave.

But you must be stupid.

You must be, because it’s not a minute later that you hurry out the back door, as well. It’s difficult to see anything in the dead of night, but you manage to spot the pair on the side of the building. The shopkeeper is now leaning too close to her, a drunken grin to his lips as he reaches out to grab at her chest. The girl’s hand flies to her hip, the handle of a weapon visible there just under the shadows—

Your fist is faster.

It cracks straight against the man’s jaw in a sound that shouldn’t be so satisfying but it is. His head knocks against the wall and he falls backwards like a pushed domino. Howls echo in the distance but the sound of your heart is too loud in your ears to register them.

You turn to the girl to make sure she’s alright –to see her with a gleaming sickle in hand, hovering awkwardly mid-air. At least she had a weapon with her. Yet it’s not so much the blade as her face that captures your attention.

She is beautiful. All delicate features befitting a princess, curved nose and cupid lips and a small chin. Her brown hair looks silken-soft as it runs down the sides of her angelic face… but you haven’t heard of any angels with an umbral, rose-like tattoo on their foreheads.

You have heard of beings bearing such markings that you’d be smart to avoid.

The contrast between the attraction you feel and the danger you should feel leaves you hanging there, still and mute. She is the first to move, hooking her sickle back to her belt in a motion far too dexterous not to ring some alarm bells in the back of your head.

“Well.” she says. “Looks like I’ve been rescued.” she doesn’t sound rescued. “Unnecessary… but sweet of you.” If her smile wasn’t so pretty maybe you would have already started running indoors.

“N-no problem.” you say as you’re beginning to regret all your life choices.

Her eyes flash down to your neck, then back up to yours. You don’t see her move, but her hand is suddenly on your bicep, just above the curve of your elbow. You can feel the chill of her skin through your clothes. “Relax. You’ll have a heart attack.”

Easy for her to say.

A quiet moment passes between you, during which you are all too aware of the fact your back is now pressed against the wall and she’s in front of you. Then, “Is it the howling…?” she asks. You’re half-lying when you nod. “Don’t worry about it. I can’t very well let my valiant protector get eaten, now, can I?”

It’s meant as a joke, but your heart constricts further in your chest. Images you’d like to avoid thinking about come to mind. How casually did she say the word ‘eaten’, though…?

“I’m –not really any of those things.” You shake your head. “What did you need from this guy?”

Conversation is probably good, you muse. It helps with your nerves and it keeps her occupied. Plus, she’s kind of really cute, the way her voice so perfectly matches her face. You can’t help but add that to the list of reasons.

A pout crosses her balmy lips. The moonlight that caresses her face makes them glitter. “I wanted a surprise gift for my mother. My order should have arrived by now –so maybe I don’t need him, after all.” Maybe I don’t need him alive is what she doesn’t say but strongly imply.

“No, no! I can get it for you!” you say the second she makes to move towards the unconscious shopkeeper.

A soft, airy chuckle leaves her lips. “Didn’t you say you aren’t a valiant protector?”

“Words I stand by. But there’s been enough loss in the village as it is.” you somehow find the courage to reply. “I’ll get it from him tomorrow—”

“So, that’s where you are.” Another female voice chimes in, this one several tones darker than firmer than the brunette’s. The figure that looms in the darkness wears a similar attire, but she feels more ominous than the one in front of you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” she says, stern, like an older sister you don’t want to ever cross.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m coming.” The brunette waves with her free hand. The one that’s not still on your arm. She turns back to you, her expression sweet amusement once more. “Be home tomorrow night and have my order with you, yes?” You can imagine it’s impossible for anyone to say ‘no’ to her when she bats her lashes like that.

You also don’t want to imagine what will happen if you refuse.

“Uh— Yeah.”

She beams. She downright beams. “Excellent!” She steps away and you take a much-needed breath…

But then she seems to think twice about it and slips right back into your space. Dainty fingers catch your chin, deceptively strong. Cool, soft lips land on your warmed cheek. She smells good, is all you can think about while she’s that close. Like the cold and roses and faint undertones of something metallic.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” she purrs.

The edge of her hood brushes your forehead and she’s out of reach before you can even blink. She waves at you from her sister’s side, who looks none too pleased with any of this.

And then— she blends into the dark and you finally register how cold it is outside.

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