two years. Two brutal years since you’d been in the assassin’s keep. Two years since he betrayed you and got your lover killed. Two years to plan his murder. Yet things had changed, he no longer looked at you as the old brother, father, mentor figure he’d always been, now he looked at you with a lovers gaze, the lover he had never revealed himself to be. Perhaps because of your age? Perhaps because of Sam?

you stares him down, you were not as polished or manicured as you’d always been, as he’d always made sure you had been. Your nails dirty, your hair dry and in need of a cut. Your shoes a size two small.

“Wont you stay? Your room has been well kept, a bath could be drawn. All you have to do is say the word.” he said with a soft murmur as he stepped closer, so close you could feel his breath brush your cheeks.