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addicted-to-dc · 3 months

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Scorned - König x Assassin!Reader

(A/N) Always a sucker for spitfire assassin readers. 'Tis my weak spot. Anyways, this will contain gun use and descriptions, bullet wounds, violence, body horror, and amongst other things. Nothing too heavy for the first part. Slow burn, slight enemies to lovers. We shall see what the future holds, muahahaha. (2367 word count)

Of course, it had to be fucking Russia the 141 sent you to. Trust was something they’d never give you, not with your track record of running the second you saw a viable chance. Not this time. A severe winter storm obliterated every option you had. You hate being on their leash. If there’s two things you loved about your life before this, it was being rich and free. At least your rage is keeping you warm.

Teeth chattering, you lift your scope and finally spot your target. A warehouse in the middle of nowhere, apparently one of KorTac’s many weapons caches. The mission? Fucking sneak in and place cameras throughout the facility. That’s all they’re using you for, recon for something they’ll just blow up at the end of the day. A waste of your talents.

You itch for the hunt again, researching and observing everything about your target before finally taking them out. It’s not like you popped the heads of good people. All of them deserved it in the end.

“Got eyes on the warehouse. Going in…”

You wait a few seconds, unable to resist snarking back at the men who’re probably enjoying the heat of the base.

“…and go fuck yourselves. I better have a warm bath waiting for me after this.”

Silencing your comms, you pocket the scope and trudge up the snow. The snow boots they forced you to wear are clunky, something that would make sneaking around more difficult than it should be. It’s like they’re trying to kill you, which they most likely are.

Getting past the guards was too easy, quickly memorizing their patterns until you noticed an opening. Slipping through, the clunky boots are left behind and buried in the snow long before you enter. At least you were able to sneak in backups, much more lightweight and silent. Just the way you like it.

Your snake cam quickly slides underneath the door, confirming that it’s safe to enter. The door is unlocked… that’s the first strike. Your instincts tell you to get out of there, that the mission is already fucked, but you continue. Slipping in, you waste no time climbing to the rafters and place cameras. The unlocked door plagues your mind, something so small that KorTac would never allow to happen.

There are several exits you could use if your gut is right. A window, no, two windows and even a skylight, but even if you did manage to get out you would be stranded. The thought chills you to the bone. Was this a suicide mission? Would the ‘good guys’ really do that to you? Shaking the thought out of your head, you decide to save the last camera placement near the door. At least you’d be able to leave quickly.

Just as you place the second to last camera, the door opens. The cold air sends a chill down your spine, but the man you see walk in makes you freeze. He must be 7 feet tall. Fear finally settles in your bones. Hiding behind one of the metal beams, you shift out of his eyeline and regulate your breathing. You can’t lose your shit, not now. You sneak another peak at him and holy shit, he’s wearing a mask. It’s not cheesy like Ghost, the emo skull caricature ruining any intimidation tactics the man tried on you. No, it’s terrifying. The eye holes, a void of black in the lighting, feel like they’re staring right into your soul.

He moves to turn a corner and BAM!

You slam onto the ground before you know it, slamming on your side and cracking your head on a crate. Your vision blurs, a possible concussion sealing your fate. God, you should be in the Caribbean right now getting your back blown out. This is such bullshit.

“Looks like a little birdy is nesting where she shouldn’t be.”

His voice is accented, possibly German. No, Austrian? It’s taunting, making your blood boil. Despite seeing three of him, you lift your pistol and aim at one of him, but he’s faster than he looks. The giant plucks the weapon from your hand and grabs you by the throat. As if you weigh nothing, he slams you into another crate, shattering the wood beneath you. Black spots dominate your vision, his eyes burning into yours.

Even while you’re clawing at his hand, he rips your mask off with ease. You try to suck in another breath, but it’s in vain. This is it. You’re dying. The dream of retiring and dying of old age is dead, just like you…

Air. You have air? Greedily filling up your lungs, you wheeze and gasp as you’re flung over a shoulder. Something painfully digs into your stomach, nearly making you lose your breath again, but the cold is enough to kickstart your body. You begin to struggle, but a harsh squeeze to your shoulder wound makes you freeze. Fuck, this giant really did a number on you.

Mr. Tall, dark, and horrifying shoves you into a vehicle, shouting something at the driver. The car lurches forward immediately. Your head nearly slams into the window from the force, but you’re pulled close to a warm body. A knife appears in your vision, your unfocused eyes unable to track it as your clothing is cut away. You move to push him away, but the knife moves to your throat.

The overhead light in the car finally lets you see his eyes, deep blue orbs paralyzing you instantly. Satisfied with your reaction, he finishes cutting through your clothes and applies pressure to your wound. Hissing, your eyes flutter shut, but you’re not even allowed the sweet peace of unconsciousness.

“Eyes open.”

A bump in the road sends pain straight down your spine, waking you enough to keep your eyes open. The giant, who is hunching in the vehicle, starts dressing your wound. The sight nearly makes you laugh. Maybe it does. His eyes move from your wound back to you. It makes you want to shrink away, but the fucked-up part of your brain is enjoying this. You missed working with mercs, at least they knew how to have a good time. A good time sounds good right now.

Everything’s a blur, you barely register leaving the vehicle, let alone the gurney trip through a hallway of blinding lights. Multiple figures pull you forward, slamming through door after door until you reach your destination. They stop so fast you nearly vomit, the whiplash too overwhelming. Too many pairs of hands tear at you, stripping your equipment and cutting through any cloth in the way.

“Sir, the resources we’re using for her-”

Heavy footsteps interrupt the doctor’s words, the room growing dead silent. “She’s worth more alive, unbroken. Do not make me repeat myself again.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Your mouth is dry, why the hell is it dry? Shifting in the bed, the blanket scratches at your exposed skin. The new angle shines a bright ass light in your face. It forces you to shift again, a sigh escaping your lips. That’s when you hear it: a beep. Frowning, your eyes refuse to open until you blink quickly. Flashes of a bright, barren room fill your senses. A hospital?

That’s when it hits you. Oh. Shit. There’s a creak next to you, and that’s when you see him. The giant that subdued you quicker than the 141 did, and that was the whole lot of them. You both stare at each other for a ridiculous amount of time, until he shifts, and your heart rate jumps at the movement. His eyes remain on you, barely blinking.

“You’ve been out for a while,” he remarks, standing up.

He grasps a cup of water, comically small in his hand, and offers it to you. You take it, eyes flicking down to inspect the water before finally taking a sip. God, it feels like heaven. Before you know it, the entire cup is empty. How long were you out?

“Why didn’t you kill me?” you ask, cringing at your own voice. Damn, you sound like you smoked one too many cigs.

“I did not spend months of planning just to kill you, Schatz,” he responds, folding his arms. “After the 141 intercepted our contact, it was my priority to get you back.”

“So, you rescued me?” No one has ever done that for you before. Being used is all you’ve ever known, paid or unpaid. It was you who had to prioritize yourself. “Why?”

“You are not an instrument of death; you use death as an art form.” Who knew he was such a poet? “Apologies for the wounds, I had to convince them we’d kill you.”

“How long was I out for?” Rotating your shoulder, you feel no pain from your bullet wound.

“A month… and there’s something else. The men who had you, the 141, yes?”

You nod, waiting for him to elaborate.

“We found a tag in your arm.”

That makes you sick to your stomach. A tracker? They tagged you like a fucking dog. You played their stupid game, did everything they asked so you could earn their freedom. Your nails dig into the sheets, tearing the fabric from the force of it.

Your eyes flick up to his. “You said something about a contract. What is it?”

Something flashes in his eyes, his head tilting upwards. Is he smiling? “You haven’t lost your fire yet.”

Grumbling, you start stretching your limbs. Like hell you’re going to stay in this bed any longer. Your limbs pop more than you want them to, but at least your body is not as run down as you expected it to be. The routine goes by quickly, and you finally, cautiously, stand up. You wobble slightly, but you’re able to recover.

Your eyes shoot at the mirror in the bathroom, sadness overwhelming you. Shit is what you look like. Your colored hair is long faded, replaced by a dull, washed-out color of blah. Gritting your teeth, you turn to the man who kidnapped you. Technically freed you, but you still have no idea what this giant wants.

“You still haven’t answered my question, big guy,” you huff, immediately snagging the spare clothes next to you. You run through the previous conversation through your head again, trying to get any information out of this gargantuan man.

You slide on the pants, thankfully it’s easier with the shitty hospital gown. Unfolding the shirt, you nearly cry when you see a sports bra fall out of it. God, it’s even your size.

“We will need you for future missions.”

You finish sliding on the bra, freezing. “Missions?”

“Ja. We will discuss a contract, something beneficial to both of us. You and I will be equals in this.”

Tearing off the gown, you pull your shirt over your head. You turn around, sliding your arms through the sleeves with a frown. “And I have a choice?”

“Of course.”

It’s so damn hard to read him with his entire face obscured. At least with Ghost you could cheat a little bit. Masks suck the fun out of everything. “What about living arrangements?”

“Since you are AWOL, soon KIA, I would prefer it if you remained here. There’s a room prepared for you.”

That’s nice of them, but how long until you go crazy in a new cage. You highly doubt they’ll just let you walk out the door, but there must be more to this. He’s got to sweeten the deal.

“The pay?”

“You will find it more generous than your usual prices,” he responds, taking a few steps towards the door. Damn he’s got some legs. Your eyes drift towards his backside. Nice ass, too.

You really need to be spayed. Forcing your eyes upwards, you follow him through the building. Your socked feet are silent compared to his heavy boot steps, but the noise grounds you enough. It allows your mind to wander, this whole situation forcing you to think about how you got here.

You aren’t military, special forces, not even a cop. No, you were a nobody who was willing to do anything to stand up for the little guys. Getting the weapons wasn’t that hard, but training yourself? Being self-taught is what made your skills sought out, always unexpected and untraceable. You made your own rules, picking up a few things whilst you traveled. It’s funny, a life of death and crime let you shed your shell. How things have changed.

You’re in the room before you realize it, your mind wandering too close to memory lane. It’s sparsely decorated, screaming military and barf beige, but it’s all you have. The guns mounted on the walls catch your attention immediately. A gasp leaves your lips before you can help it, gently removing your sniper from its mount.

“Where did you find this? Never thought I’d see this again,” you whisper, immediately falling into your routine of checking it for damages.

“We were too late to prevent your capture,” he replies, watching you, “but we recovered everything they didn’t bother taking.”

Your jaw clenches at the thought of them taking you. Wordlessly, you place it back on its mount. Your hand lingers on it for a few moments, your fingers sliding down in now resistance. “I didn’t wipe my slate clean just to be immediately kidnapped. There was a rat, and not just the one they squeezed my information out of.”

Rage enflames your entire being. Revenge would be a good hobby for you, something to get your strength back. You’re itching for something up close and personal. Almost as if the giant could read your thoughts, he places a file onto the desk. Where was he keeping that? Goddamn you really need to start paying attention.

“We’ve identified a previous client… your first…”

You sift through the information. What information is available on you is enough to fuck you over. She gave them your legal name, history… everything. Your throat tightens at the photo of her, someone you considered a friend. Past tense. She’s on your hit list, bumped up to priority number one. The 141 will have to wait.

#konig x reader #cod x reader #konig x you #konig x fem!reader #konig x assassin!reader #scorned #konig x female reader

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kyndaris · 10 months

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Scorned

As always, I've uploaded this story to my FictionPress and Wattpad already. But I thought I'd let those that read my blog a chance to read it as well without having to click away. It is, after all, a short story. For my longer novel-length stories, head over to https://www.fictionpress.com/u/577676/scattered-wind or https://www.wattpad.com/user/Kyndaris if you like to use Wattpad instead.

Stepping into the chapel, it was like we had entered a new world. The pews had been decorated with garlands. Similarly, the pulpit, where the minister would shortly stand, was flanked by two heaving bouquets of sickly-sweet flowers. Looking up, one could glimpse strings of fairy lights that had been strung up on the Gothic arches.

And gathered together for this most auspicious occasion were those nearest and dearest to the bride and groom.

It was to be the perfect wedding.

It should have been the perfect wedding.

But just as the ceremony was in full swing, right before the bride and groom were to kiss, a bedraggled woman in a tattered white dress – held back by two security guards – pushed her way through the doors of the chapel. Her black hair hung lankly and her lips were chapped. There was a wild look in her eyes as she struggled forward, mascara running down her face.

“I object!” she spat. “This farce has gone on long enough.”

The entire chapel went silent, as if we had all decided to hold our breath as we watched the events unfold.

“Has she told you the truth, Arthur? The real reason behind it all? Has she even told you her real name?”

All eyes turned towards the groom – Arthur – as he dropped the hands of his bride-to-be and stepped forward, face red, looking as if all he wanted to do was rip the woman in half with his bare hands.

I could see the thoughts churn in his head. How dare this stranger come in, wearing white no less, and object? On what grounds? And on this most happy and momentous day? The sheer nerve!

But the words she spoke, they tickled something in the back of my mind. What did she mean?

Thinking back, I knew that the union between Melissa and Arthur had been contentious. The reason why had always been subject to rumour but I’d not paid it much mind at the time. I was simply happy that Arthur had found someone after the disastrous breakup with Caitlin all those years ago.

Besides, I was just a family friend. My invitation to the wedding was almost an afterthought.

I glanced towards the bride, hoping for further enlightenment. Melissa’s face was as pale as death. It was almost as if she had seen a ghost. And it clashed horribly with her wedding dress with its long train and veil that stood in contrast to her dark coloured hair.

“You have no right to be here! No right to even object!” roared Arthur, taking my attention back to the unfolding drama between the mysterious woman and the groom. Arthur turned to his brother, one finger pointed out in a silent decree. “Get her out of here, Harold! Never let this piece of filth darken our doorstep ever again! I don’t want to see her ever again.”

Harold glanced between the woman and his younger brother. After a moment’s hesitation, Harold took hold of the woman’s arm, none too gently. Then he, along with the two security guards, frogmarched her out the exit.

I watched her go, wondering at her words and Arthur’s visceral reaction. There was more to the story here. I could feel it. But it wasn’t my place to ask anything. Not yet, anyways, with the ceremony still underway. It simply wouldn’t be polite. And I had been raised better than that.

It took several minutes for the guests to quiet. Many were trying to figure out who the mysterious woman was as they whispered to those beside them. Nothing of this scale had ever happened before at anyone else’s wedding.

Arthur, still fuming, struggled to hold back his anger if his clenched jaw and white knuckled fists were any indication. No doubt he would have roared at us to shut up if he could. Thankfully, Harold returned shortly afterwards and whispered something into the minister’s ear.

As he reread the sermon before the exchange of vows again, everyone settled back into their seats. Melissa and Arthur resumed their place before him.

Despite the fact that seems should have returned to normal, Melissa still seemed visibly shaken from the encounter. Her eyes would constantly dart towards the doors of the church. As if she was expecting a reappearance of the mad woman.

Was it worry? Or was it fear?

I was pulled from my thoughts when the rest of the guests clapped their hands as Melissa and Arthur pressed their lips together in what could have been described as the most perfunctory and wooden performance I had ever seen in my twenty-five years of life. It was worse than the travesty that was the kiss between Cho Chang and Harry Potter in the film version of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Melissa was the first to break away from the kiss as she turned towards the audience.

Together, they sat back down to the side as the minister stepped forward to lead everyone through a round of hymns.

As we sang, I noticed from the corner of my eye how Melissa leaned in close to Arthur as she whispered into his ear. The tension returned in his jaw but he maintained a façade of calm as he squeezed her fingers. He muttered something back in reply to Melissa.

Her face blanched but she said nothing more. Focused, instead, on mouthing the words that she probably didn’t feel. How interesting.

And just like that, the wedding ceremony ended.

Soon, there would be a series of photographs and a reception to be held at a fancy hotel later in the evening. Tedious affairs, to be sure, but that was what weddings had become in this modern age. They were meant to be spectacles of the internet age. I’d seen so many of my friends dressed in their white flowing dresses in as many different settings as there were stars in the night sky.

Melissa and Arthur’s wedding was the fifth I’d attended this year.

Rising from my seat, I headed to the bathroom to freshen up. It would be some time before I’d be called up for a group photo with the rest of my family.

The bathroom was empty as I entered the stall. But as soon as I shut the door, I heard two women come in. They were talking in hushed voices.

“—so distasteful.”

“I know, right? Melissa, though, was very good at keeping it together. I don’t think I could have been so calm if someone were to barge in on my wedding, wearing that poor excuse of a dress.”

“Did you see the look on Arthur’s face? I thought he was going to explode.”

“Would have served her right. I think I would have cheered.”

“Myrtle, no! Don’t you know who she is?”

“A crazed lady, by all accounts.”

“That was Caitlin’s younger sister, Larissa!”

That was when I chose to make my presence known as I made a show of flushing the toilet and stepped out of the stall. I flashed Myrtle and Norma a polite smile as I went to the furthest sink to wash my hands.

“Are the two of you looking forward to the reception?” I asked, pretending as if I hadn’t heard a word that they had exchanged earlier. “I remember that they said it was going to be at the Intercontinental. Think they’ll be lobster?”

With a knowing look, Myrtle winked at me. “Oh, my dear, of course there will be. Arthur’s parents wouldn’t have allowed the wedding to go ahead if it wasn’t on the menu.”

“Indeed,” agreed Norma. “We shall see you outside, yes, Vicky?”

I nodded, keeping my polite smile plastered on my face. “Yes. I’ll see the two of you outside.”

The two of them left and I was left alone to reapply my mascara and touching up my lipstick. When I had finished, I ran a critical eye over my reflection. I had an oval face with high cheekbones. It was pretty but I would have preferred a more defined jawline.

Fanfiction authors that were just starting out in their craft might have described my eyes as dark chocolate gooey orbs, but that would be stretching it a bit far. And a little mortifying to imagine. No, my eyes were brown though they were darker than most. The smoky eyeshadow I had on served to heighten the sense of mystique I had going.

My lips were thin. Paired with my eyebrows, I looked severe. Years of practice in high school had taught me how to soften my look so I could look more naturally friendly. I tried it now, contorting the muscles in my face and going for a concerned expression. It worked though it was a little stiff. I’d have to keep working on it. Especially if I was hoping to use it later in the evening.

Satisfied that my makeup was in order and there was no blemish that needed to be hastily covered up, I exited the toilet. Just in time for the set of photos that my family would be taking with the bride and groom.

By the time the group photographs were done, my cheeks were sore from smiling and my feet from standing. All I wanted to do was head back to my apartment, down a few glasses of shiraz and perhaps call it a night. But, of course, when it came to weddings, there was still the reception and the dancing and the celebrating to get through.

After all, they were meant to be bombastic and loud.

Proof, of course, that we had succeeded in life and would finally live out our ‘happily-ever-afters’. After all, wasn’t that the dream that we were sold in our younger years? Find the one your one true love and everything else will work out? At least, I think that was the message inherent in all Disney films during their renaissance period.

While the others were bidding Arthur and Melissa a prosperous marriage, I took a seat on a nearby bench and slipped off my high heels to give my feet a chance to breathe. Moments later, Harold plopped down beside me, his tie askew. He looked me up and down with an appreciative eye.

“Long day, Vicky?”

“Well, you know me, Harry. I’m always out dancing late into the early hours of the morning.”

He laughed. “Oh yeah? Where’d you go this time?”

“Oh, here and there. Real small clubs. Places you wouldn’t have heard of.”

“Try me.”

“The Yarn and Hook,” I answered. “Where the Crawdads Sing.”

“So, crocheting and reading. That’s so typical of you, Vicky.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “So you say, Harry. But I’m not the one stalking someone else’s Goodreads.”

Harry and I had been close ever since we were young. Or, well, as close as family friends could be. It was hard when you didn’t attend the same high school and studied different things at university. Social media helped, but when we both became gainfully employed members of society, time seemed to slip away as a general sense of busyness pervaded our everyday.

Him with his finance firm. Me and my journalism.

“Touché,” acceded Harry. He leaned back against the bench. “God, I could go for a drink.”

I couldn’t resist the rejoinder that sprung to my lips. “Long day, Harold?”

He glared at me, knowing that I knew how much he hated his full name. “Why yes, Victoria,” he replied snidely. “I mean, being treated like a servant by your older brother is great fun. Especially when you have to deal with his ex’s crazy sister. And all she’s doing is screeching in your ear. Like, how my escorting her out of the chapel constituted as assault. Or that she’ll press charges.”

“I heard people talking in the bathroom earlier,” I said. “So, that was Larissa? She doesn’t look a lot like Caitlin at all.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. They are half-sisters, after all. You were seeing her at her worst.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, scooting closer toward Harry.

He looked away. “Forget I said anything. It’s not important.”

“You can’t just offer a journalist the hint of something deeper and then end it at that,” I said. “Come on, Harry. You can trust me. I’m not on the clock. Anything you reveal will be completely off the record.”

Harry sat back up and it was like the jovial playful air that we had enjoyed before had vanished. He stared at me for several uncomfortable seconds. “This isn’t like your usual interviews, Victoria. Larissa is dangerous. If you see her, stay away. I’ve a feeling she might try to sabotage the reception. God only knows how she’ll figure out the location,” he said and rose to his feet.

I watched as Harry left. This had been my one chance at getting more information and I’d bungled it terribly. And I’d probably only served to pour oil on what was already a tenuous position at best. Instead of pressing him for answers, perhaps if I’d more sympathetic…

Something to study up on, I supposed, as I stood up and straightened my dress.

Still, I wasn’t leaving empty-handed. Harry had confirmed what I had overheard in the bathroom and had provided an additional titbit of information that I hadn’t had before. And, as every journalist worth their salt knew, every little morsel helped.

As I headed towards the metro station, I pulled out my phone and messaged someone I hadn’t talked to for a good four years. Ever since Arthur had broken her heart four years ago.

Stepping into the lobby of the Intercontinental was like being whisked off into a fairy tale forest. Arthur and Melissa had spared no expense when it came to the decadent decorations. Huge oaks spiralled up towards the roof, their branches stretching across the ceiling to crown the set of beautiful constellations in the night sky. Half hidden by the canopy was a crescent-shaped moon.

It was beautiful and impressive. And, if I didn’t know any better, I might have bought into the fantasy The only thing missing were the actual creatures that lived in such places and sprightly fae.

As it was, my sheer baby blue dress paired with holographic butterfly wings, which I had bought at a Halloween store, served to match the theme for the wedding reception.

“Excuse me, are you a guest for Arthur and Melissa’s reception?”

The question pulled me back down to cold hard reality. My eyes travelled down from the stars back to the smartly dressed concierge with a forced smile on her face. She was standing next to a simple A3 sized welcome sign embossed with gold.

On it was written: Welcome. We are so glad to have you join us. In smaller script, it read: Follow the petals to the reception hall. Love Arthur and Mel.

“Yes.”

“Do you have your invitation and a form of photo ID?”

“Of course,” I replied, digging in my purse for them both. “I assure you that I did pack them in. Ah, here it is.”

The invitation was lined in silver, the outside edge decorated with intricate floral designs and silhouettes of fairies. In the lower right corner was an artistic rendition of the loving couple, both adorned with huge feathery wings. It was something Melissa had insisted upon and was based on her favourite book series.

The concierge gave it a cursory glance. “And your ID, please?”

“Oh, right.” Opening up my phone, I showed her my digital licence.

“Your mask, ma’am.”

Sheepishly, I removed the gold masquerade mask from my face. The concierge, taking my phone, scrutinised my licence and then looked back at my face. Satisfied, she handed me back my phone. “Follow me. I’ll take you to the reception hall.”

“Don’t I just—” I started, putting my mask back on, and gesturing to the path of petals that led down the corridor to the left.

“That may be so, ma’am, but the groom insisted that all guests be accompanied once their identity has been verified. Please. Follow me.”

Her tone brooking no argument, she turned on her heel and led me down a side passageway opposite to the petals path. After trailing after her through a labyrinthine maze, she stopped outside mahogany panelled function doors. Pushing them open, I stepped down into a ballroom ripped straight out from a fantasy world.

A short marble staircase led down to the dance floor and a ring of tables. A three-tiered cake sat near the long table where the bride and groom would preside over events. Most of the other guests had yet to arrive but that did not stop those that had come early to enjoy a glass of bubbly and a few canapes.

All eyes turned to me as the concierge announced my presence.

Quite a few men looked at me appreciatively but most returned to their conversations. As I walked down the stairs, I scanned the crowd for any familiar faces. Only Harold stood out but he’d barely noticed my presence, wrapped up in a heated discussion with someone I couldn’t quite make out.

A part of me wanted to go back up to him and apologise for what had happened earlier in the day but just as I reached the dance floor, I was accosted by none other than Norma.

She, just like me, had changed outfits. When I had seen her earlier, she had been wearing a simple floral dress with a pastel pink jacket on top. Now, she had changed into a navy asymmetrical cocktail dress. Around her shoulders, she wore an effervescent shawl. Atop her head, she had on a tiny crown.

“I had not expected to see you so early, Vicky. And my, what a lovely outfit you have on. Very chic, as my niece would say.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You also look very delicious tonight, Norma.”

“Oh, nonsense. This was just something I threw on.”

“Well then, you have impeccable taste.”

Norma tittered politely before leaning in closer. “You know, they say that Arthur’s hired additional security for the reception. You should have seen how that concierge lady was staring me down earlier. I thought she wanted to rip my dress of. But no, rumour has it that Arthur wants to make sure everything goes off without a hitch after that frightful display this morning with Larissa.”

“Who?”

“Larissa. Didn’t you know? She’s Caitlin’s sister. And bad, bad news.”

“Wait, that woman who interrupted the ceremony was Caitlin’s sister?” I asked, pretending to ask surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yes,” said Norma. “It’s a little-known secret. Rumour has it that Larissa had been obsessed with Arthur from the first. When he was still dating Caitlin. She’d always try and insert herself into situations. Made their entire relationship incredibly difficult. No wonder Arthur stepped away, poor boy.”

“What about the sisters?”

“What about them?”

“Was there any fallout when Arthur broke up with Caitlin? I’m sure if I had a sister that kept trying to force herself into my relationship with a significant other, I’d be livid.”

“You know, Vicky, I never did think to look at it from Caitlin’s perspective,” said Norma. “Most of us ARE friends of Arthur’s parents. And when he broke up with Caitlin, that was the end of it all. Sweet girl, that she is, it wasn’t MY place to prod my nose into her affairs. Why, that would make you a busybody gossip, after all.” She tittered nervously again.

The conversation shifted then into safer waters and after a few minutes more, Norma excused herself and I was once more alone at the reception with almost no-one to talk to. Which I didn’t mind. Arthur had only invited me out of obligation. And with my parents still overseas, I was the sole representative of the family.

If I hadn’t been close to Harold back in our younger years, I couldn’t help but think that I wouldn’t have received an invitation at all.

It was a shame that our fight this morning had soured a little of our relationship.

Still, I was here to celebrate the coming together of Arthur and Melissa, drown myself in red wine and enjoy the highest quality food there was. So, it didn’t matter that Harold and I weren’t quite on talking terms right now. It would fix itself in time.

At least that’s what I told myself as I located my name on Table 13

While there were a few names I recognised, most of the other guests I would be sitting with were unknowns. But that too was okay. This wasn’t my night, anyways. I was just an extra to the grand event. A prop to be used in the photos to show off what a special day it all was.

“How very interesting. You have an undefined aura around you,” said a voice from behind me. “The colours, though vibrant, struggle underneath a pall.”

I jumped, whirling around to face a…little girl about eleven or twelve years of age. She had on a midnight blue gown that barely touched her knees and wore a black velvet butterfly mask to cover her face.

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s okay. Most don’t,” said the girl. “Still, this is a very interesting phenomenon. The only other times I’ve seen something like this happen is when people are lying. Or they’re scared.”

A cold sliver of fear slid down my spine. Had my ruse been discovered? No. The girl was guessing at best, trying to find a weak spot. I forced a smile to my face. “Where are your parents, um…sorry, I didn’t quite get your name?”

“Lilibeth. Lily for short. And my parents are over there,” she pointed to table number 4, “catching up with the Rodrigues. But I got distracted so I didn’t go over.”

“An interesting field of study. Was it something you picked up from reading or…?”

Lilibeth shook her head. “No. I’ve been able to see auras for as long as I can remember. Although, I suppose it was only quite recently that I discovered what exactly it was that I was seeing.”

“And do you see ghosts too?” I asked, a teasing note in my voice.

“While they do exist, I’ve yet to be able to detect—oh! You’re just joking. Right. That’s something people do as well. Or was that your way of saying you find me annoying? I’m not very good with social cues and it was only when Mrs Yu told me directly that I realised she didn’t much like it when I tried to read her aura earlier.”

“Must be hard,” I said.

“Exhausting.”

“Were you at the wedding, Lily? I don’t think I noticed you.”

“I was. But the energy inside that chapel was ugly. Melissa’s aura was very muted and Arthur’s was a spectrum of red. Especially when that woman showed up.”

“And—” Before I could finish my question, there was the tinkling of cutlery on wine glasses and all heads swivelled to the entrance of the ballroom.

Standing at the top, a huge smile on his face was Harold. He put aside his empty wine glass and knife, and accepted the microphone that was handed to him.

“Welcome one and welcome all!”

A thunderous cheer greeted his words. Harold waited for the din to die down before he continued.

“Though the day hasn’t been without its ups and downs, it’s still been a most auspicious day for my older brother, Arthur, and his wife: Melissa. After all, the two got married down at the St Thomas Cathedral! And for those that attended, I’m sure you would agree that it was one of the most magical moments possible.

“Within a few moments, my brother and his wife will be coming in. I’d like it if we could all put our hands together as soon as they enter. Ready?”

And just like that, as if on cue, the doors leading into the ballroom opened. I watched as Arthur, dressed in a satiny black tuxedo with great bat-like wings strapped to his back came through. Melissa was at his side dressed like a fairy queen, a tiara resting on top of her overly sprayed hair, and staring adoringly up at her husband.

Knowing the truth of the matter, it was all kinds of sickening.

I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a sip, turning away from the sight.

“Oh, I see some red peeking through,” said Lily, looking up at a space three inches above my head. “You must be feeling angry. Is it because you might also have liked Uncle Arthur in the past?”

“What?” I sputtered, almost spitting out my drink. “Where would you get that idea?”

“It’s just that Uncle Arthur has had to contend with a lot of women in the past. There was Aunty Caitlin and then Aunty Larissa and—”

“No. Ew. Stop.” The look of horror on my face would have served to stop any more curious forays into my love life, but Lilibeth persisted, although in a different vein.

“Oh, then is it because of Uncle Harold? You know, he’s been single for a very long time. And I did hear that—”

“We are not having this conversation,” I interrupted, cheeks flushed. I drained the rest of my glass and put it on the table.

“Did I say something to offend you? Your aura has changed to an angry orange, as if you’re annoyed. Oh, actually, there’s something else there too. Embarrassment?”

It was the tipping point. The exposure of my feelings wasn’t something I wanted some prepubescent child to announce to the whole world. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“My parents say that’s not a nice word.”

“Which one? No, shit or Sherlock?” I retorted without thinking.

Lily finally looked me in the eye. Her tiny face was like a porcelain mask but I could see her bottom lip quiver and the first signs of tears. “I’m sorry if I said something wrong. It wasn’t my intention to hurt or wound.”

Oh God, that look…

Some of my anger bled away at the look. So, taking a deep breath, I crouched down next to Lily so that we were at the same level. “Look, Lily, I know that you’re struggling to understand and control your super powers but I can tell you that asking someone if they’re annoyed when they are isn’t very conducive to the situation. When people are ‘emotionally charged,’ sometimes the best way is to take a step back and give them some space. Do you get what I’m saying?”

She scrunched up her face before finally nodding. “I think I do. And even though I can see that you’re not very happy with me at this moment, you’re also trying your very best to deal with me very civilly. My mum isn’t always like that. She usually just gets really mad and shouts at me. So, thank you for being patient with me. I’ll go join them over with the Rodrigues family for now.”

“You do that,” I said. “It’ll be much safer that way.”

Lily stared at me for a moment too long as she parsed my words, head cocked to one side. “You’re planning something. And it has something to do with Uncle Arthur and Aunty Melissa.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact. How could such a young girl be so perceptive?

I opened my mouth, mind racing at a million miles per second as I racked it for a possible response. As the silence lengthened and no words came to my lips, I closed it. What would have been the point of further obfuscation? The girl could read bloody auras.

For all I knew, she might have already hazarded a guess at the truth. If only I had met her earlier, we might have been allies.

But, when it came do it, it didn’t change any of my immediate plans.

So, rather than confirm or deny her suspicions, I simply ushered Lilibeth back to her parents. Left with my thoughts, I grabbed another champagne flute from a passing waiter as the guests slowly found their tables and the party got under way.

The night proceeded without much incident. As for the speeches, they had little in terms of surprises. They were almost stale in how they followed the rote formula of every wedding speech ever. There were childhood stories, amusing anecdotes of Arthur’s life and of the budding love that had grown between him and Melissa.

As for Melissa’s family and friends, they spoke of the wonderful and caring soul that she was. At their words of praise, she had flushed prettily, burying her face in the crook of her now husband’s arm.

Were it not for the sporadic deliveries of entrée and main course, I would have found the whole entire pageantry a bore. That was, of course, until Harold took once more to the stage right before dessert, accompanied by Melissa’s maid of honour.

I’d seen Linda at the wedding. She was, apparently, one of Melissa’s best friends from high school. She had a pert upturned nose and blonde tresses that would have flowed down to about mid-back if she hadn’t pinned it up. Dressed in a lilac dress that was a little too tight around her waist, I eyed the woman as my brain registered that something was just a little off.

Was it me or was the grin on Harold’s face just a little too forced? And did Linda look a little more frazzled than when she had appeared at the wedding, boogeying down the aisle with the other bridesmaids?

“Now, this is where it all starts getting mushy, folks! We’ve had the ice breaker. We’ve had the shoe game. And we’ve had the inspiring speeches from family and friends alike. Now—”

Before Harold could finish, the doors to the ballroom crashed open. In stepped a woman dressed all in black, from her butterfly mask to the torn and tattered wedding dress. Affixed to her back were two great batlike wings, not unlike those that Arthur had taken off to sit down at the table.

Gasps sounded all around.

Arthur stiffened for a moment before he rose to his feet, cheeks suffused with red as he pointed one shaky finger in the woman’s direction.

“Get her out of here!” he all but roared.

Harold and two security guards jumped to obey the order.

But the woman, presumably Larissa, was too quick, dodging away when they tried to grab her. She quickly came down the stairs and ducked behind the other guests. Many were too stunned to try and stop her, exclaiming only in alarm when one of the security guards lunged forward and missed, nearly toppling an entire table over.

The farce went on for a few minutes until Arthur removed his suit jacket, ignoring Melissa’s plea to think rationally, and rolled up his sleeves. It seemed that he had learned the hard way that if you wanted to do something right, you had to do it yourself.

“Pathetic,” he said to Harold as he walked past.

A look flitted over Harold’s face. One that screamed anger and disbelief. He took one step forward before turning around to return to his chair, removing the bow tie around his neck and throwing it on the ground.

Seeing Arthur approach, the woman came to a stop right next to the towering five-layer wedding cake. There was a smirk on her face, though she was still breathing hard. She pushed back her hair, not as lanky as they were this morning.

“You’ve had your fun,” growled Arthur. “Leave before things get ugly.”

“I don’t think so,” retorted the woman, sounding exactly as she had at the ceremony. Larissa. It had to be. “I think I want to disrupt events a little further. Push my luck.” She reached out towards the cake.

“Don’t you dare!”

“And why shouldn’t I, Arthur? Why should I allow this to happen when it’s clear that you belong with me?”

“I’m not some trophy,” hissed Arthur. “Not an object that you can inscribe your name onto.”

The woman shook her head. Her hands gripped tight on the table that held the wedding cake. “No. No. No. She’s poisoned you against me. Do you even know who she really is?”

“She’s Melissa. The love of my life. The future mother to my children.”

“Wrong, wrong, wrong! She’s a fraud and a thief. And her name is Larissa. My sister.” With that declaration, the woman removed her black butterfly mask to unveil the face of one Caitlin Bai.

As one, the entire room gasped before lapsing into shocked silence. People exchanged looks with each other. But I couldn’t help but turn my attention to Melissa. She was still seated at the head table, her face as white as death and her eyes so huge and dilated that they could have swallowed the sun.

Arthur glanced back at his wife and then at Caitlin, dressed all in black. Doubt seemed to have caught him in its paralysing grip.

“See. You know I speak truth, Arthur. You’ve known it all along. I can see it on your face. We were together so long, Arthur, I can read you like a book.”

Until the whispers began and his face once more turned red.

“Enough! I will hear no more of these lies!” he roared and lunged forward, anger and hatred in his eyes. What he intended to do with Caitlin was anyone’s guess.

And just like that, chaos ensued as the wedding cake tittered on the table before smashing into the ground as Caitlin darted past Arthur’s grasping hands. Guests screamed. Many rose to their feet, ready to flee.

I was on my feet, unsure where to go. Did I help Caitlin? Or ought I leave this shambolic wedding reception and go back home. After all, this wasn’t my fight. Arthur and Harold and Melissa have to deal with the aftermath. And yet I also found myself bound to remain. The juicy drama before me was only just unfolding. I could already see the headlines.

But before I could make a decision on what to do next, Melissa rose to her feet. She was tapping feverishly at a champagne flute with the butter knife. The ringing sound of crystal cut through the noise.

Everyone stopped. Even Arthur. All heads turned towards Melissa, or Larissa if Caitlin’s claims were to be believed, as they waited for her to speak. Caitlin paused, mid-way up the stairs to the ballroom, a bemused look on her face. Clearly, she hadn’t expected Melissa to take a stand.

“I-I don’t know who you think you are but you are not welcome here!” stuttered Melissa, placing the knife and flute down on the table. “T-this was supposed to be m-my big day and you’ve ruined it. I would like it if you could l-leave.”

A smirk made its way to Caitlin’s lips. “Really? After everything you’ve done, you think you get to have a nice fairytale ending? Well, newsflash: you don’t, Larissa! Stop trying to play the innocent here!”

Melissa shook her head. “I don’t understand. I don’t know who this Larissa is. Though it’s clear you’ve been hurt by her. But I also don’t know who you are either.”

“Playing dumb won’t help you!” screamed Caitlin. Fire flashed in her eyes. “Just give it up! Tell the people the truth!”

“I’m sorry. You have the wrong person,” said Melissa, gaining strength from Caitlin’s display. After all, this was her wedding reception. She was in the right. Not Caitlin. “Now, please leave. Before we ask security to escort you out and call the cops.”

“No! I refuse. Why should I acquiesce when you were the one that masqueraded as me to break up with Arthur? You were always jealous of me, Larissa. Of what I had with Arthur. And I know that you took the money father gave me and used it to become whatever this is. So, I won’t leave. Not until I am vindicated!”

A hush descended over the room. No-one knew what to do or what to think. Instead, we all waited with bated breath for Melissa’s return volley as if this were a game of tennis.

Were it me, I would have already called the police. Or had called in hotel security, which was conspicuously absent except for the two muscleheads that were flanking Arthur.

Seconds passed. The tension so thick that one could cut it with a knife.

But before I knew what exactly was happening, the silence was broken first by a snort. And then Melissa was grabbing her stomach, doubled over with laughter.

A few nervous giggles broke out across the other guests.

For the first time all night, a look of doubt flashed across Caitlin’s face. I could see the thoughts in her head churning. Had she been wrong from the start? Maybe she really had made it all up in her head. After all, it all sounded like the plot of some daytime soap opera or k-drama.

Wiping away a tear of mirth from her eye, Melissa straightened. A cruel grin had replaced the lost confused look she bore before. She nodded towards Arthur. And he, like a loyal soldier, commanded the two burly security guards with him and his brother to secure the exits to the ballroom.

Caitlin looked around, fear finally creeping across her face as she realised the trap that had been set with us guests serving as the set dressing. I had to give it to Melissa. She knew how to keep her plans close to the vest.

My gaze wandered over to Norma and Myrtle huddled near the orchestra, darting to Lilibeth still seated primly at her table and cutting into the roast beef, before finally settling on Harold. There was a grim set to his jaw. One that told me he disapproved of the plan.

He always was a bleeding heart. It would hurt all the more to learn the truth as the reception reached its climax.

I didn’t want to do it but there was no going back now. No reversing the hands of time to when we were just innocents running around a garden like fools in love.

“Oh sister, your desperation is delicious,” said Melissa. “And oh, so predictable.”

“Fuck you, Larissa!”

“You know, it’s funny,” said Melissa. “Does it feel strange to keep saying your own name?”

Wait, what? Did that mean…

I looked from Caitlin to Melissa, trying to wrap my head around the implication behind Melissa’s words. If Caitlin was Larissa, then that meant…

A low murmur passed through the room as they, too, tried to process the revelation. From the corner of my eye, I saw Myrtle turn to Norma, mouth hanging wide open. But it was Harold’s reaction – my poor dear Harry – that revealed that even he had been blindsided. His face was as pale as a sheet of paper as he looked to his brother and then back to Melissa.

“Arthur, why didn’t—”

“Because I asked him not to,” replied Melissa as she turned to her brother-in-law. And though I knew in my head, this was supposed to be Caitlin, I couldn’t quite accept it. Not yet anyways. “It wouldn’t have changed things between us. After all, Larissa was always one to chart her own path. It wasn’t your fault. Isn’t that right, sister?”

“No! No! No! I’m Caitlin.”

“So, you don’t remember the fight four years ago? Or the drugging and the surgery you did?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Melissa took a step towards the woman that looked like Caitlin Bai. How the tables turned. Whereas before, Melissa had acted meek, it was now Caitlin, or Larissa, for that was her true name (I couldn’t keep up with all these reversals of who they really were), was the one that shied away from the blow.

“Larissa, you need to learn to let go,” said Melissa-Caitlin. “I have. Even though you left me with a wicked scar on the side of my face after the fight. Left me for dead in a back-alley in Thailand?”

Caitlin-Larissa tugged desperately at her long black hair. “This is a nightmare. A fucking nightmare. I was meant to be with Arthur, not you. You’re supposed to be dead! Dead! Dead!”

“But I’m not.”

“And I knew something was wrong the moment you tried to usurp Caitlin’s identity,” said Arthur, his eyes flashing dangerously. “That’s why I called it all off. Imagine my surprise, of course, when I came upon Melissa by chance when I was overseas.”

“I didn’t have my memories then,” said Melissa-Caitlin, her fingers finding Arthur’s, entwining together. “But the more time I spent with Arthur, the more I knew.”

“Lies. Lies. Lies,” chanted Caitlin-Larissa, shaking her head. “I’m Caitlin. You’re the impostor. Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

And then, Harold gently took hold of Caitlin-Larissa’s wrist. She looked up at him and suddenly it was as if all the fight deserted her. Caitlin-Larissa slumped into his hold, knowing that she had lost.

My heart went out for her. I knew the pain of unrequited love, had held it close to my chest for years, but to have gone this far? Even I don’t think I could have done something like that.

So, as the rest of the guests returned to their seats as Caitlin-Larissa was escorted out by the security guards and Melissa-Caitlin along with her husband, Arthur, returned to their seats, I reached for my phone. I scrolled through the contact list, to the number I had called earlier that day.

Caitlin-Larissa stopped, just before the threshold. Harold let her right hand go as she answered the call.

“Vicky,” I whispered, “thanks for doing this for me. I know it wasn’t easy. But now I know the truth.”

“You know I’d do anything for you. Are you sure you want to leave it like this?”

“It’s for the best.”

“So, how long do you think it’s going to take you to bail me out?”

“Judging from how this reception is going, I’d say two hours tops.”

“Looking forward to it, Cait.”

I ended the call and packed my phone away.

Despite everything, Larissa had done it. She had gotten away with it all. Her master plan had worked. But whereas anger might have consumed me four years back, I felt almost nothing now. Arthur and Larissa, or as Melissa as she was now known, deserved each other.

And I wished them all the happiness.

They were going to need it.

#short story #scorned #wedding #revenge-esque #m night shyamalan twist ending #trolling my readers #fictionpress #wattpad

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