forum Opportunistic Omnivore: Scavenging the Remains of the Divine || OxO || Closed || 18+

Started March 15, 2023 by @ElderGod-kirky group

tune

"Seiger." It might have showed his age a little when it came down to it. Eurion had never had a run in with the previous king, and he had always thanked the Gods that they hadn't tasked him with the premise of trying to kill him. Probably because they had been watching a knew it would have been a mistake to send Eurion into that trap, no matter the skills he processed.

He had been lucky that in the sense that during Seiger's rule he had managed to narrowly avoid the man, but only just. The nobles and high-ranking officials hadn't been so lucky to avoid finding themselves at the other end of the assassin's blade, and he figured that his title had probably originated from the previous king, or at least someone else close to him. The Golden Hunter, as he had become to be known as during those times.

The name still got tossed around by those who were aware of him, mainly Ren and the others at the Wolf's Shed who he had become acquainted with over the years. At least they were middle aged or old now, so the name would vanish eventually. Sieger and the law had never been fond of Eurion, and he had had to vanish from the city for a while due to the large bounty that had placed on his head, and the extra guards that had been stationed and patrolled more frequently around his usual spots.

"Had quite a few close calls when it came to avoiding him and his… friends." He didn't like thinking about it, and it was clear of his feelings towards the man from how he spoke his name.

The prince didn't flinch, but it was a near thing. Fuck. Of course it was that bastard. "Lucky you," Sláine murmured, then sucked in a long and slow breath and shot Eurion a grin. It was obviously fake, lacking the light and joy within every other smile Eurion had seen from him. "Did you know he was left-handed? And that he had this cane that I'm pretty sure he never used to walk with. But the engraving on it was gorgeous up close, so there's that."

Sláine quickly looked away when he felt his false humor cracking, and stared at the back of his brother's head. A muscle feathered in his cheek. Seiger had taken the throne after his father had seized it from the Mac Arthfael family over two hundred years ago. Which meant that the founders of the kingdom, the ones that had created the kingdom as a shelter for safety, lost it to foreigners. Siegfried Libbrecht had threatened the king's family and their people. Bloodshed wasn't spilled, but soon enough it had spiraled into an oppressive hellhole, with the Mac Arthfaels shoved to the side. They still lived within the palace, part of the deal they made with Siegfried, but they were no longer in control, and hadn't taken back the throne until an outside force—another High Witch, ironically—had slipped into the cracks and turned Seiger's men against him. Only then did the power shift once more, back into the hands of the rightful family, and Azriel took his place as heir.

Which left the twins as princes, a title they still weren't used to. Sláine thoughtlessly scratched at his inner forearm, eyes unfocused and body following the lead of Aideen and Caoimhe. Aideen had only shown up after the power shift. She knew of the Libbrecht rule, but not what it was like to live under it. And Caoimhe… he was happy. Happier than his brother had ever seen him before. It wasn't fair to drag him down back into the depths. They never talked about it anyway, so there was no point. Sláine shrugged and examined the angry red lines he had created in his skin. "Sorry, just curious is all."

Eurion’s frown only deepened if that was at all possible, only this time the look was creased with worry. He was glad that the other two were walking ahead of them and seemed too lost in their own conversation to think about looking back. An assassin worried about his target, he was certain that he would be teased for that.

But he saw the way Sláine scratched at his skin and averted his gaze with the topic. He knew the look all too well and so he didn’t push or ask any more questions. Sensitive topic, for both of them, more so for the prince but it hadn’t been easy to avoid all the guards all the time. There was one instance where he’d been cornered by Seiger’s men, and he was lucky to escape with his life, he had the scar to prove it, too, and it wasn’t a pretty one. It had been that week where he had left the city, bloodied and bruised and definitely not fit for travel but he couldn’t stay a moment longer. He owed Ren his life, the reason why he returned to the inn whenever he was in the area, and payed more then was necessary.

As the thought of the inn crossed his mind, they rounded the corner into the alleyway where the sign for the place swung and creaked in the gentle breeze. The wooden frame with chains that needed replacing, the image of a shed and the wolf prowling through its doors with the name above the picture. Eurion could hear the soft chatter and clanging of glasses inside, the warm light from the candles filtering through the dirty windows. He turned to Sláine, “Come inside with me. You can help me get all my things together.”

Not that he needed it, but it was a chance to make sure Sláine was alright without Aideen and Caoimhe potentially overhearing.

The assassin was quick to enter through the doors, and the man at the bar with a beard that reached his waist and was strikingly white, looked up from his conversation with another at the bar. His scowl faded into a smile that showed the many gaps in his yellow teeth, but it was the best that you ever got from Ren, “So he lives! Thought you’d finally met ya match.”

Eurion lowered his cape and offered Ren a smirk, “Can’t get me out of your hair so easily.” Rare that either of them ever had anything but a frown on their faces, but Eurion was grateful for the familiar face, and a face that knew of what his life was like.

Caoimhe and Aideen had stopped at the inn first, with the shared thought that Aideen, the most likely to be allowed inside without incident, would be the one accompanying Eurion. All three startled at Eurion's direct order towards Sláine. Caoimhe nearly protested on his brother's behalf; it was one thing to be more comfortable with the person he had been around the longest, but it was entirely another to order the younger prince around and drag him into an inn that had a high chance of pitching a fit at the presence of royalty. Aideen had a frown on her face, brows pinched in confusion. Sláine simply looked confused and mildly out of it.

Still, he followed without protest and waved off his brother and friend. The two hung back, keeping away from the entrance so that they avoided confrontation, and struck up a hushed conversation between them while they waited.

Sláine hung around Eurion's back, eyes darting around to take in the details of the building and a general idea of the people around them. Curiosity tugged at him, but he held off on looking too interested in everything and stopped to stand by Eurion. The prince hadn't met Ren before, but he could tell that the older man was one that Eurion trusted well enough, and Sláine was grateful that the man had someone like that. Eurion's dropped scowl didn't stop him from feeling out of place, though, so he stayed out of the conversation and split his attention between the conversation and his immediate surroundings. He didn't know why Eurion had insisted he come along, and had thought that the assassin would want to get in and get out on his own just like he had done with his knives.

Ren's gaze darted from the assassin to the prince, and his scowl returned just as quickly as it had left him. If he hadn't been cleaning, he would have crossed his arms. The old man opened his mouth to protest, but Eurion was quick to raise a hand and butt in before he even had the chance of saying a single word, "We're not staying, don't even start." His own smirk had dropped, too, and his voice was stern as he spoke to the older man. The owner would have protested had Eurion stayed standing where he was, but he was quick to move towards the hallway in front of them.

It led to a very thin, very squeaky, winding staircase that led them up to the second floor of the inn. It was clear the place was old, from the scratch marks, stains of all kinds, and peeling wood that adorned the stairs and the hall. There were a few pieces of art on the walls, the thin canvases mostly ripped here and there but one could still make out the general shape if they looked close enough.

The room that Eurion had been put up in was one of the first in the hall close to the stairs- easy for a quick get a way if it was needed. The space was far too small and barely fit two people, so with Eurion and Sláine standing inside, there was little room. He was lucky he hadn't unpacked his things too much. His bag was settled on the bed that was far too small, and his bow and arrows were leaning against the side. He turned to Sláine, "Are you okay?" They were practically pressed against each other and Eurion tilted his head down at the prince.

Sláine felt bad that his presence in the inn soured the interaction before it could even really start. It was the very reason why he and Caoimhe stayed away—they weren't well-liked, regardless of their lack of ill-will towards the inn itself and its customers. The prince heaved a soft sigh, glancing back at the door and debating on Eurion's reaction to him leaving to make things easier, but the assassin was already leaving before Ren could throw a fit over Sláine being there. He followed without hesitation to avoid any more trouble and stuck close to Eurion as they made their way through the hall and up the staircase.

Once again, curiosity had the prince looking around, even if the space was cramped and gave away its old age. He followed Eurion without really paying attention to their path, and only when they were in a room far too small for two men of their sizes did he register it. He could see Eurion's things, he waited for him to grab them and usher them out, but that didn't happen. No, the last thing he had expected came out of the assassin's mouth.

With how close they were, Sláine had no choice but to look up. This close, Eurion likely could see the hidden clouds of galaxies in his eyes, along with the way they were shot with exhaustion. The prince couldn't hold his gaze for long, afraid of being read, and instead focused on Eurion's collarbone. That was a safe spot. "I'm fine." He won't buy that. "Jus' tired is all. I'll be fine." He had no reason to not be, besides his own mind. It would pass, as it always did, and it didn't really matter when if it persisted. They were just traveling. Eurion didn't need to check in on him.

“Don’t bullshit me Sláine.” Eurion had no reason to be persistent, no any reason to really check in with the prince but after last night, he couldn’t help but feel he should. The prince had been there for him, it was his turn to repay the favour, and a part of him wanted to. He wanted to be that person that made sure he was okay. They wouldn’t have many private moments on the road, not with Caoimhe and Aideen likely watching his every move in case he changed his mind on the whole ordeal. This would be the last chance they would have until tonight, and even then, there was no guarantee they’d find an inn, so it might be even longer.

The assassin used one hand to shut the door, knowing that there would be ears listening downstairs, and voices travelled far in the small space, the only downside, he’d found. It rested above the princes head afterwards, trapping him against the door. His other hand lifted and softly, forcing Sláine’s gaze up and back to his eyes, mimicking the movement he prince had last night.

“Do you really think I’m someone who isn’t going to notice subtle differences in people?” He cocked a brow, though his expression was soft, almost gentle. They didn’t have much time. The other two would come barging in if they took too long, probably under the impression that Eurion has decided to kill the second prince and make a run for it. Trust only went so far, and there was very little between all of them. Once again, it was time that always ruined the moments between the two, but Eurion was stubborn and determined, especially when it came to Sláine, he’d found.

"It's not technically bullshit," Sláine muttered, though he quickly quieted when Eurion moved. As much as he wasn't used to being shorter than someone, he never had someone lording their height over him quite as smoothly and effectively as Eurion was right at that moment. The prince got backed into the door and had no choice but to look up at Eurion, and he silently cursed the man for using his own tactics against him. Then the prince cursed him again for being so gentle, even with his expression. Lying by omission would've been his way to go, as it wasn't that big of a deal—not really. But Eurion was looking at him like that, and keeping his face upturned, and Sláine couldn't muster up the willpower to lie to the man straight to his face.

The prince warred with himself on what to say. They didn't have time, they'd never really have enough time for anything, and he didn't want to waste away what little stolen bits they could have with poking bears that were better left unbothered. He knew, though, that Eurion wouldn't let it go unless the prince gave him something. With an exhausted sigh, Sláine leaned into Eurion's touch and relented. "I've spent my entire life as that man's servant. I'm never okay. This just… It's not all that different from before. Things spiraled. I'm fine."

At least, he will be. Given the time, and distraction, he'll find something else to think about until all thoughts of his past were behind him once more. But it was really hard to convince himself of that when he was staring up at Eurion and resisting the urge to melt into the other's warmth for just a few seconds. If they took just a second too long, Aideen would march in and go on a hunt for her missing friend, but Sláine wanted to steal just a minute of freedom away from them. Even if it meant being subjected to Eurion's scrutiny.

Eurion let his gaze soften, and his hand moved gently to trace Sláine’s jaw before resting on his cheek, settling comfortably there with his face in his hand, his thumb softly moving against the skin lightly and delicately. A man like him would have never done such a thing, not even a few months ago, but that switch that Sláine had so easily flicked in him didn’t seem to be flickering off anytime soon.

He left some space between the two, only a few inches but enough to give the prince some space if he needed it, although some instinct screamed at the assassin to push their bodies together and close the gap. He ignored it, as he ignored any other thoughts that decided to make themselves known to him while he was standing over the prince this way.

“He’s gone now,” Eurion said gently, “His torment on you will fade, just as he has.”

Where the prince was better with words, Eurion wasn’t exactly primed for either. Being alone meant a lot of time knowing how to comfort himself, but not others, but it was trying, for Sláine, because he wanted to try. These stolen moments would only last so long, and this mood would only last so long, only with the youngest prince, and never around the others. He would build on it, Eurion would admit that much, he would try, because Sláine’s eyes were too enchanting and his skin too inviting.

For someone not well-versed in comforting others either verbally or physically, Eurion was doing one hell of a job. Sláine's eyes slipped closed at the feel of the assassin's touch on his face, and though the haunting thoughts and memories refused to go away, the tension in his body slowly eased. He'd be okay. If he focused on other things, they'd go away, and he'd be okay. Lucky for him, the perfect "other thing" was right in front of him, just mere inches away.

Sláine didn't do much. Slowly, as if unsure if he was allowed to touch at all, to he prince reached up to twist his fingers into the fabric over Eurion's chest. His eyes cracked open a sliver to watch his own movements, but the angle that Eurion still had his face at made it harder, so he settled for dragging his heavy gaze up at the assassin. Eurion, sent to kill him, was practically holding him against a door and comforting him. The prince couldn't think of anything more absurd, but he wasn't really thinking much about that.

"I know," he whispered. A tiny confession that spoke more to what he didn't say. He knew that Seiger was dead. He knew that he was free of the endless abuse. But the effects still wore on him day after day, night after night. Objectively, he knew he couldn't be hurt, but that didn't stop him from waiting for the blow to hit, or for the threat of punishment to stop circling his unconscious. But for now, he could put his focus on the kind Fae assassin in front of him, and put the swirling thoughts to the back of his mind for now. "Thank you for this. You didn't have to." Even if he appreciated it more than he let on.

Eurion encouraged the movement by taking the smallest step forwards, welcoming the other into the last of his space as he felt Sláine's soft grip on his clothes. His hand didn't move from its spot on the other, thumb tracing the lines on his face, the circles under his eyes, "Tha mo thiodhlac saor," His pronunciation of the Gaelic phrase wasn't great but he tried, "Or whatever you said earlier. You don't have to thank me."

By now they were nearly pressed against each other, all Sláine had to do was lean into the assassin and he would be against him, and Eurion wouldn't hesitate to wrap his arm around the prince's waist and secure him to his body if he did. They were running out of time. Rationality screamed at him to step back, grab his stuff and go. His mind wandered to the other two, what they may be thinking, how much longer they would wait until they came bounding up the stairs trying to get their attention-or many even through the small window above the even smaller bed.

In another life maybe they would have been able to stay like this forever, wrapped in each other, maybe even in bed together, and they would never have to leave. That bubble could have been their every day, and it could have been beautiful. But in this life, they weren't, so Eurion would take this moment and keep living in it until reality came back to bite them.

Sláine snorted a laugh that startled even him. It wasn't funny, but hearing his family's saying from Eurion's lips wasn't something he had expected to hear, and he certainly didn't expect it to warm his heart the way that it did no matter the pronunciation. "You learn too quickly," he mumbled, mostly referring to how Eurion had used his own words and actions against him. His grip on the assassin's clothes tightened some in reaction to the gentle strokes over his face and the lessened space between them. What was it he had been thinking about? "Should I thank you anyway, just as you did?"

They shouldn't. As inviting as Eurion's warmth was and how easy it would be to lean into the other for just a moment, they shouldn't. But fuck did he want to. Sláine wanted to hide away into the assassin's body, hidden from the world between him and the door at his back. Their time together in the morning had been overindulgence and simultaneously not enough. He knew too much about Eurion in a state of peace, and now he was addicted, but he hadn't had enough of that initial dose to make it feel worth it. Aideen could show up any minute, banging on doors demanding he be released, or even shift into her magpie form and fly up to the windows. The clock was ticking.

Before he knew it, Sláine was leaning into Eurion's chest and closing his eyes, a hand coming up to rest over top the one of his face. He didn't want to lose that touch, but if he didn't move, their faces would be dangerously close. The prince was split between hiding away into Eurion's shoulder and savoring the gentle touch. They only had so much time.

The moment Sláine was leaning against him, the hand that was holding them against the door left it’s spot and snaked around the prince’s waist. Eurion’s grip was tight, but if the other decided he wanted out at any point there was nothing stopping him from doing so. Sláine’s laugh brought a smile creeping up on him, and a huffed laugh following a moment later. He’d known his pronunciation was bad, but at least it got the prince laughing, if only for a second.

“If you want to be stubborn then yes,” Eurion lent his cheek against the others head, “But for once I’d rather not have an argument.” Not with Sláine, and definitely not now. It would only hold them up longer and he was going to have to let go soon. They could always lie, say that Ren started an argument that they had to deal with but, he doubted they would believe that, especially Aideen.

With a small sigh, and the urge to put his lips to Sláine’s head, Eurion moved, using his nose to nudge at the prince’s cheek as an indication that they were going to have to go. It had been enough time, and they would have time later, he hoped, prayed, even, that they would. The urges and wants that had arisen in the assassin were overwhelming, but not upsetting. He didn’t have enough time to think too deeply about them, about what each movement meant, how they were just feeding into those thoughts that played at the back of his mind and pushed to the front every time Sláine got close to him. They didn’t know each other, not in the way that he wanted to know the prince, and definitely not in the way that should have them like this after just meeting. But something pulled Eurion to him, as much as he hated to admit it, just as much as he hated having to let go.

Eurion solved the problem for him, evidently, and Sláine slid his arms around the assassin's neck in a loose hold not long after he felt the tight grip around his waist. No, he wasn't going to be stubborn, as much as the urge to push Eurion's buttons hung from his tongue. He still silently thanked the man for being there and noticing his quick downwards spiral. Once upon a time, Sláine would've gone to his brother. Though they were twins, Caoimhe definitely big brothered him more often than not. He couldn't count the number of times they had turned to each other for something, and instead of worrying about himself, Caoimhe would check with Sláine and make sure he was okay. He had no doubt in his mind that his twin would do so again in a heartbeat if Sláine aired out his fears, but he was 82 now—he should be able to take care of himself.

Plus, he had Aideen to worry about now. It wouldn't be fair to add to the stress.

At the nudge against his cheek, Sláine buried his face away even more and tightened his hold on Eurion in a silent pout. "I know." Their time was up. As much as the prince wanted to soak up the warmth and comfort of Eurion, they had to go before suspicion landed the assassin on the other end of a blade, and Sláine was rather fond of keeping this particular assassin for as long as possible. With an irritated sigh, he grumbled, "I'm making Caoimhe find us a place to stay. I don't care if that means we stop early. I hate this." This game they kept playing against time, preventing them from indulging in one another and figuring things out. The intensity in which their relationship flared up after a single moment had to mean something, it was simply a matter of exploring what it meant and connecting to one another properly. Maybe when they weren't under the stress of fear or a hostage situation, they could focus on other things.

Eurion hummed his agreement. His smile only grew as the prince nuzzled into him more. At least they felt the same, then, because if it was one thing he hated more than anything was being made a fool of. Unless it was all some big trick to get Eurion’s trust but, from the way Sláine was holding him back and not letting go, those fears were quickly diminished for the time being.

The games and the hiding would only go unnoticed for so long. It made it worse that he was an assassin, and the moment they risked waiting a second too long would be cause for uproar from the other two, and he had no doubt he would be dead before he even got a chance to explain himself, or Sláine could convince them it was a big misunderstanding. He wasn’t going to risk it, not after a few hours.

The assassin nudged Sláine once more and let go, his reluctance was made obvious. When finally they were parted, Eurion was quick to grab his things- slinging his arrows over his back first, then his bag, and held his bow in his hand. The weapon was more art than anything else, with the intricate carvings in the wood. It had been a gift from his parents years ago, but over time the assassin had added to the markings to create a story of beauty, the the Old Gods referenced clearly throughout. Definitely his most prized possession.

Finally, with a small touch to Sláine’s hand with his finger, he led them out the room, closing the door behind them before heading downstairs.

Was it bad that, as much as Sláine had particular urges and thoughts, he was perfectly happy when in the assassin's space? Especially when they were pressed together. A simple embrace had the prince settling into contented harmony, like Eurion had the magic to soothe with just a touch. It was insane, really. He thought back to how he had caved to Eurion's demand to know what was wrong with just a simple invasion of space and touch to his chin. Or even now, how he was reluctant to leave the assassin's warmth and substituted that with watching the man intently. That single touch to his hand shouldn't have been as calming as it was.

The prince collected his own things once more, shrugging on his coat when he decided he no longer wanted to carry it, and followed Eurion out of the room. "I'll tell them something," he offered quietly. Being back in the main part of the inn instead of the small space of the room made him nervous once more. No matter the fact that they were leaving. "Honestly, if I say I got nosey about something or pissed someone off, they'll believe it. Not hard when everyone in the vicinity already hates you."

A small tug at the pit of his stomach caught his attention, but he kept moving. His magic curled around it, sending out feelers, and he registered it was his brother calling for him. They definitely left in the nick of time. Sláine returned the gesture, letting them know that he was okay. Though technically they couldn't talk telepathically, witches could send out distress signals, pulling at the magic of another witch. The twins often used it as a means of checking on each other rather than an actual signal of needing help, though, due to their habits of causing chaos within the palace.

"Caoimhe just checked in," he told Eurion. No sense in hiding that. "Good timing."

There was no hiding when the two came down from the room and into the main section of the inn, the creaking of the stairs made it hard to sneak around, especially in a space filled with criminals and the like.

Ren was muttering to a middle aged man from behind the bar and looked up from where he was standing. His scowl matched Eurion’s. Any sense of softness, that smile, that had been present with Sláine was far from gone. As much as the old man behind the bar had seen the assassin smile on the rare occasion, it has never really been around other people, and as much as he wanted to be different around the prince, old habits died hard, and it wasn’t going away anytime soon.

Eurion sent Ren a small nod which was returned before he focused his attention back on the prince. Too close a call, then, if Caoimhe had reached out just as they were leaving. He dreaded to think what may have happened if they had spent another second up there. Would the first prince come barging up the stairs into the room and hold a knife to his throat? Or would his guard have flown through the window and taken him down from behind as she had done last night? Eurion couldn’t help but tense at the thought, “Timing is everything.” He replied, pushing open the doors to the inn for the both of them as the other two looked to them.

Before they could say anything, the assassin spoke, “Let’s get going, then.”

Caoimhe pushed off of the wall he had been leaning against, mouth already open to question the two. Aideen eyed the two of them, expression unreadable, and surprisingly stayed quiet. Her silence, and Eurion's words, did nothing to stop the first prince from launching into his original interrogation. "The hell took so long?"

The younger prince rolled his eyes and sent a sheepish grin their way, though there was an air of 'sorry, not sorry' to him that entirely took away from the expression. "I may or may not've pissed off the owner." It wasn't entirely untrue, so he ran with it as Caoimhe snorted and seemed to buy it. "I haven't the slightest idea how, I'm incredibly dashing. A classic knight of chivalry. An angel."

Aideen snorted and set off, and the group was less separated than they were before. "You lit an orchard on fire and, oh so proud of yourself, called it 'roasted apple pie without the crust'." Caoimhe cackled at the memory, and Sláine still looked mighty proud of himself. "I don't believe for a second you were even an ounce of charming."

With a wave of his hand, Sláine ignored the accusations and redirected the conversation. "Whatever; we'll never know. Caoimhe, you're our walking world map. I'd like to have a place to sleep that has walls, so can you find us an inn along the way?"

"Aww, does the pampered prince already miss his bed of clouds?" Aideen crooned, "Is the little baby afraid of some dirt?" Caoimhe stifled his laughter and pointedly extracted himself from the conversation by staring out in front of them, searching the magical map the Middle supplied him on demand, just as it helped his twin see languages. He also conveniently leaned out of the way when Sláine lunged for Aideen, and the crafty little witch shifted into a magpie and fluttered away just in time, landing on Caoimhe's shoulder with a croak of offense.

Eurion made a mental note to ask Sláine about the orchard later tonight, because had they not been around the others, he would have laughed. He didn't know enough about the prince to tell whether or not this was an ordinary occurrence, but he figured it probably was from how they all reacted, and how the prince looked far too proud of himself for the incident.

He hung back from Caoimhe, letting him lead the way. He didn't want to provoke him after they had just stalled for time. The assassin knew the way to the Fae lands like the back of his hand, the only thing he didn't know was where the nearest inns were since he tried to boycott them where he could, if only in favour of speed rather than comfort.

If the oldest prince and his lover found out the real reason why Sláine wanted to find an inn then it would be cause for uproar. They would have to have separate rooms, of course, to avoid suspicion but Eurion hoped that if either of them snuck out they wouldn't be heard. That was the issue when it came to hiding before he properly worked out what exactly this was. The stolen moments, borrowed time, Eurion was well acquainted with the two but it was different when it came to someone else- when it came to the prince that he wanted to hold and check in with, to hold and be held by and comforted when possible.

"Let's just see how far we get today," He eventually said, "The first few days are the easiest, it'll only get worse."

"True," Sláine agreed, glancing over at Eurion. "Try to knock out a decent amount today, maybe, then gear up for the rest of it."

With Caoimhe focused on navigating, it didn't take long for Aideen and Sláine to start harassing each other. The guard started flying around and swooping at the prince, and he made it a game to try and grab her from the air while spouting insults. He could've easily used his magic, which was a lot stronger than hers, to overpower her, but he didn't. The three of them were clearly close enough to be so comfortable with each other, and with Aideen freely able to lay hands—or claws—on the princes without repercussions. Not that they really cared to begin with. They only separated when Sláine yelled out obscenities, and the magpie flew away with a piece of jewelry in her claws.

She shifted back and twirled the stolen ring through her fingers, a safe distance away from a bitching Sláine. Triumphant and amused, Aideen then set her sights on their assassin travel companion. "So, Eurion, is it?" She turned around to walk backwards, right behind Caoimhe. "What sorts of High Witches have you killed? Or who, I guess, if you know their names." She was curious to know the caliber of targets he had taken down before this most recent attempt. If he was worth his shit, then her getting the better of him was likely just a fluke, a slight bungle in his usual skill. If not, then she could gloat. Either way, she won her own private game.

Sláine, off to the side of the two of them, rolled his eyes at the guard's question. He should've known her own curiosity would get the better of her.

Eurion adjusted the leather strap around his chest, the other doing its best to not tighten around the bow, or even shoot, at Aideen. Yeah, she was going to be a pain in the ass the whole trip, he already knew it.

His dark gaze was fixed on her as she swooped around the prince before shifting back into her usual form. Theif turned knight turned lover of the first prince. A far difference between where she had started and where she had ended up. He applauded her for that. It took a lot of time and effort to go from nothing to stealing from the princes without being killed on sight- to bed with the first prince and be protected by him when she had started out on the streets, he guessed. Eurion had never ever dared try and advance or change the role he now assumed as an assassin, never even thought twice about it.

The thought back to the more recent High Witches he'd taken out, trying to recall their names. He never paid too much attention to them, just did what he needed to do and got out of there. What he did, remember, was how he killed them, and how much of a fight they had ended up in before their deaths.

"Hylas Reinhold," No fight, arrow through his chamber window, the easiest kill, "Cassandra Goldstin," Slit throat- she had struggled and tried fighting back but ended up choking on her own blood before she could even get her hands on him, "Damianó Talgenia," Stabbed, "Breána Ghusn…" There were so many others.

Aideen scrunched up her face in thought, but none of the names were familiar to her. Sláine recognized a few—it was easy for High Witches to be aware of each other, given how easy it was for them to become prominent figures within the witch community—but not all. Still, the ones he did recognize hadn't been easy targets. "Impressive, I'll admit."

The guard wasn't as pleased with the information. She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "I was hoping more for like, I dunno, Hakmarrëse, Kalteva, Appothia, the like. Even Eeromin. He's tiny. Finnigan is a rising star, isn't he?"

Sláine arched a brow in bewilderment. Those weren't names that had any business being on the other end of Eurion's blade. "Hakmarrëse? You mean the mother of vampires and an ancient being of bloodlust? Are you insane? If anyone gets anywhere near that woman, I'd like to see them try to take her down."

Aideen pouted and lifted her chin at the prince. Caoimhe glanced back to eavesdrop. "He went after you two. It's not illogical to assume he'd go after them. Kalteva got kidnapped by a pirate."

The prince sighed heavily and ticked off each name on a finger as he went through them. "Kalteva—a botanical necromancer and master of earthly metals—let that pirate kidnap them. Mind you, they're together now, last I heard. Appothia—justice—follows Hakmarrëse around because who else is going to keep her in check. Eeromin is tiny, yes, but lives above the fucking mountains with the rest of his people, is a hybrid, and will decimate an entire city with a single storm if he wanted to. And Finn is responsible for turning Seiger's men against him and putting our family back on the throne, purely because he's got his magic tuned towards rebellion."

She chewed on her lip, thinking of any others. It was easy to forget that Sláine was more into research and knowledge than his brother was, until you got him going. She also never realized that the twins thought themselves inferior to other High Witches, given their own abilities. "Neziryth is new."

"Neurological control and a better shifter than you are. Also married to an ex assassin that probably taught them a thing or two." He had met Fenris exactly once, and seeing the scar over the half-elf's eye had been intimidating enough without the critical silence.

"Metzi'xetol's been pretty quiet. He could be dead."

"Eclipse. He hides out in some sort of cave or something. A bit of a hermit." Sláine slanted her a look. "Are you done? You're naming the big leagues. And more often than not, they're just minding their own business instead of going out and flaunting their power. Except Hakmarrëse, but she's a bit crazy anyway. It makes more sense to go after active threats."

"They might have been next on the list had I been able to kill the twins." Eurion shrugged. He had never put too much thought into what the Gods had planned or were using him for. Usually he was too busy killing them to really think about the reasons why.

But, with that visit from them last night, he doubted that any of the other High Witches they Aideen had mentioned would have been on the list. Well, he could be wrong, he probably was wrong, but chances were they were harder to kill, from the sounds of it, and maybe the Old Gods wanted to go after them themselves, rather than using Eurion.

It was becoming harder to find people who would be willing to do what Eurion did, especially with the dwindling belief in the Gods. Some people may have even called him crazy. Being visited by the Gods themselves wasn't exactly normal sounding, especially if you were an assassin trying to live if you ever found yourself on the other end of the blade. People would make anything up if it bought them an extra five minutes of life to try and work out a way out of a sticky situation. A lot of people probably wouldn't even agree to kill unless they had a damned good reason to.

Eurion guessed that was why they had picked him, out of all people, and picked him to kill instead of simply worrying about other useless, mindless things the Gods might need them to do- like making sure people weren't starving or insane cross-hybrid creatures weren't being created out of some rouge magic, "I don't question them."

No, because otherwise, the torture they'd put him through for defiance and disbelief would be difficult to overcome, even in his long life. A muscle twitched in his jaw at the thought, but his expression stayed the same no matter what he was thinking.

Sláine's brows pinched together before he could think about it. "Probably for the best you didn't get to us, then. I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to go against them, and I don't particularly want to find out." Even Eeromin, the tiny 5' hybrid, would be terrifying. The prince had heard about the camp he destroyed when his partner had been kidnapped, utterly ripped to shreds by shrieking winds, a hungry tornado, and laser-precise lightning. The bodies were nothing but char and poor victims of flying debris.

Thinking of Eurion being forced to face even one of them was just as terrifying to think about. Sláine wasn't concerned about his own well-being when he said it was a good thing the twins weren't killed; it was the assassin's that he was worried about. If the Gods were really that desperate to send Eurion to kill witches of that power—he didn't want to think about it. At that rate, they might as well give up on staying remembered. It would be suicide. Sláine crossed his arms to hide his streak of renewed hatred towards the Gods. They better not fucking tell Eurion to hike his way into a death trap.

"Questioning authority is the only way to find your true self," Aideen said. Caoimhe rolled his eyes and went back to navigating now that the debate was over between her and his twin. "If you just go day by day under the whims of someone that happens to be better than you, then you're nothing but a subset of that authority." She shrugged at the unimpressed look Sláine shot her, grinning a little. "Plus, once they realize you're an actual person and not an extension of them, that's when the fun begins."

Caoimhe chimed in. "This feels pointed."

"You don't know them," Eurion's words were sharper than they should have been, but to Aideen, he currently didn't care, "There is nothing fun about them." His dark eyes narrowed at the witch.

None of them knew the full extent of the Gods. Sláine had seen a glimpse of what his life was like with them, and that had been a good night, all things considered. The best nights were when he didn't have any visits- when he was sent the letters and he didn't have to interact with them at all. But over time the letters had become less and less. Eurion's own magic had grown with age, and his tolerance to the Old Gods invading his mind had increased. It was easier for them, definitely not easier for him.

Nights like yesterday had been good enough. It hadn't lasted all night, it had only been a few hours and his mind, as much as it had been blank by the end, at least he had been able to talk, he had been able to use his magic to comfort himself. It was the best blessing they could have allowed him, but they never came often enough.

Eurion felt the urge to argue, to tell Aideen about how awful they could be, and how fighting back against them, questing, defying them, was suicide, certain death before he could even open his mouth to attempt it. They'd been on the road no longer than ten minutes and she was already pushing his buttons, and not the ones that would allow for an argument that would mean nothing, no, one that hit too close to home.