#「◜ALEKSEI FREY ⋈ MADELINDE AMICE◝」

[mightyecho]

                    ＳＯＲＲＹ ＡＢＯＵＴ ＴＨＥ ＢＬＯＯＤ ＩＮ ＹＯＵＲ ＭＯＵＴＨ                                          （ Ｉ ＷＩＳＨ ＩＴ ＷＥＲＥ ＭＩＮＥ ）

                           ａｌｅｋｓｅｉ ｆｒｅｙ — assassin to the anastase family．

logan lerman . cis man . he/him . wasn’t that aleksei frey walking the palace grounds ? it’s nice to see the assassin to the anastaste family out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they’re notoriously reckless, whilst also managing to be quite charismatic. the thirty year old is eager to find out who exactly is behind the killings from what’s being said at court. i heard that they themselves aren’t vrajiit. it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of the plucking of a stringed instrument, getting up after you’ve been pushed down and the flash of poisoned daggers in moonlight. great to see the rogue around, isn’t it ?

———   GENERAL

NAME  : aleksei rian frey TITLE : assassin to the anastaste family AGE :  thirty GENDER : cis - male PRONOUNS : he  /  him SEXUAL ORIENTATION : bisexual BIRTHPLACE : danruba RESIDENCE  : currently trasnavda ALLIANCE(S)  : the anastaste family 

———   RELATIONSHIPS

FATHER : demian frey MOTHER : naena frey SIBLINGS : older brother — tba* ALLIES : varian anastase ; danya hasri ; daphne funar ; thistle hawthorne ; madelinde amice tba. ENEMIES : mikhail volkov ; tba.

———   PERSONALITY

LABEL : the rogue POSITIVE (+) : attentive ( to detail ) — charismatic — mindful — discrete — loyal — determined NEGATIVE (-) : reserved — brusque — relentless — sarcastic — self - doubting 

———   HISTORY

ＳＥＥ， Ｉ ＷＡＳ ＢＯＲＮ Ａ ＳＥＣＯＮＤ ＣＨＩＬＤ . . . his father had been a guard for the lord of danruba and his mother had served as a healer to the warden house and even though they thought their family complete with the birth of their first child, the gods saw it fit to bless them with another— though, there have been moments when others wondered how much of a blessing he really was. his earliest memories are running after his elder brother through the grounds of the keep, watching with eager eyes as wooden swords clash against each other before they’re traded in for steel. they build them tough in danruba and when it came time for his own small hands to grasp the wooden training swords, it was not with a warriors solemnity and understanding of time honored tradition— no, aleksei had just been born to fight. 

he wasn’t good at it. where his elder brother had been strong and capable at wielding the sword, progressing in his warriors training faster than other boys his age, aleksei routinely had his ass handed to him, finding himself with his back in the snow and nose bloodied more often than not. he wasn’t stronger than the other children he trained with but he was faster, easily outrunning them by three leg lengths in any race that was challenged and more agile, sure-feet taking him with ease to heights the other children wouldn’t dare climb and leaping from distances that almost assured him broken bones only to tuck and roll to safety, mad laughter echoing throughout the keep. 

aleksei was seven when his brother’s powers revealed themselves and from that moment, he’d unconsciously held his breath, waiting for his turn. the elder frey was sent to the academy for the gifted and then back home to serve in the king’s army and aleksei grew, lungs screaming as the years passed, waiting. his father was one of the non-gifted but everyone had told aleksei his entire life he favored his vrajiit mother with her healing hands and with every passing summer, he wondered if the resemblance would remain only skin deep. no divine power swirled in his breast as he entered manhood and it was a bitter medicine to swallow, knowing that the gods had not destined him to be something extraordinary. 

his father had placed him on a fast track to following his footsteps in becoming a guard for the anastase, his mother eager to keep one of her sons close while the other fought in far off ottola, but aleksei had never been one to easily submit to authority— to fall in line and follow orders blindly— not when his mind could work so much faster and he could think of at least three other options that would work and work better. they butt heads- his father and he- and it only grew worse when a letter from the brigada was delivered to the keep in danruba from soldiers wearing the king’s colors telling the frey family that their eldest had been taken captive by enemy soldiers. his mother’s heart had broken, his father grew distant and aleksei grew angry. the anger would only grow when a stray arrow from an ottolan soldier deep in enemy lines would find his father’s throat and his mother became distant, eyes lost as they stared out into the danruban white, waiting for figures that would never ride home over the horizon. 

ＧＯ ＷＥＳＴ， ＹＯＵＮＧ ＭＡＮ . . . he was seventeen when he left danruba — left the silver stag against navy banners and his mother’s sorrow filled eyes — and headed to see what else walochnia had to offer a young man with no vrajiit powers. he found himself in wenchinka picking pockets before he happened to pick what at the time felt to be the right pocket but time would prove to be the opposite. the man had been the leader of a rogue’s guild and while he found aleksei’s technique sloppy and amateur- but really, what else could you expect from a boy fighting clumsily like hell into manhood- but recognized something worth mentoring in the young man. perhaps it was the sharp eyes that saw more than he let on or the fingers that- with enough practice- were deft enough to rob you blind as he shook your hand and stared you in the eyes; or perhaps it was the smirking mouth and the quick-witted tongue that could charm his way into even the most secure holds. 

he had spent nearly a year before he was presented with another unique opportunity through his employers contacts— the perfect opportunity for you to expand your expertise, aleksei, you were meant for bigger things than petty theft, much bigger bounties. that was when he met mikhail volkov, the leader of an assassin’s guild and just as he had adjusted to the warmer southern weather, he was sent away to train under the assassin. when he arrived before mikhail, he hadn’t grown out of his resistance to authority- something his previous employer had found entertaining and amusing- but he quickly learned that mikhail had no tolerance for impudence and no patience for outright disobedience. 

aleksei— for all his faults— was a fast learner, driven by a need to prove he was something more than ordinary. mikhail taught him how to bleed and how to make others do the same, taught him how to take life without remorse. everyone has a bounty on their head, it was just a matter of making sure you got there before someone else— and avoiding letting your own contract come up for grabs. he spent years working under mikhail, working his way up in the ranks, ever fueled by that desperate need to prove himself— and the money wasn’t half bad. his focus turned to poisons- the different plants and concoctions from across the kingdom that could loosen a man’s tongue or take him down with nothing more than a drop. 

TRIGGER WARNING: IMPLIED CHILD DEATH

it was a job in crysala— two warring merchant families, each taking contracts out on the other. he’d gotten greedy, playing the two against each other with that wolfish grin and when the sun rose on the seaside, both families had been slaughtered. there’s something about ending a family’s line completely that changes a man and while in the moment, his eyes had been veiled with the focus of an accomplished killer that saw nothing more than targets- contracts to fulfill— but in the light of day, no amount of scrubbing could wash away the blood from his hands and no amount of prayer to whatever god was listening could remove the mark on his soul from taking purely innocent lives.

END TRIGGER WARNING

 it became a horror too terrible to bear and instead of returning with the coin he’d collected from the contracts, aleksei fled back to the only place he thought he could escape the wrath of his employer: he went home.

＆ ＴＨＥＲＥ ＭＩＧＨＴ ＮＯ ＢＥ ＭＥＡＮＩＮＧ， ＳＯ ＦＩＮＤ ＯＮＥ ＡＮＤ ＳＩＥＺＥ ＩＴ . . . tail tucked between his legs and back in danruba after close to a decade, aleksei appealed to the lord of danruba for his protection. the loyalty that his parents had raised him in was fierce and if there were ever a cause to throw himself to that might absolve him for his past sins, it was to devote himself to the warden family that had cared for his the whole of his life. his skills and training made him useful and he became a blade for the anastase, working in the shadows to protect and defend danruba from those that would try and harm her in the dark. 

he has been in the employ of the anastase for nearly four years now and his devotion to the warden family is stronger now than it was when he first arrived, begging for asylum and purpose outside of killing for coin— which, of course, is still part of the deal but there’s the underlying deeper purpose that drives him forward and turns his eyes towards loftier goals. his eye has been on the master assassin position within the king’s small council though he remains rooted in danruba at the service of the family that had for all intents and purposes, saved him from himself. and for now, he’s content with that. 

———   HEADCANONS

+ aleksei loves music and is able to play most stringed instruments. the interest came after a bard’s performance at the keep in danruba when he was younger and became a passion his parents encouraged in him. he has a worn gusli that he carries with him when he travels, posing as a bard when opportunity arises when on missions for his lord. he loves an audience and who says it has to be all work and no play? 

+ while he is well versed on sword fighting, aleksei prefers not to carry one unless absolutely necessary. instead he fights with daggers that he has hidden and strapped across his body. it’s about a 50/50 chance of getting a poisoned dagger versus a not poisoned dagger.

[mightyecho]

“ i knew you’d feel guilty; you do understand that i’d take a thousand wounds if it meant keeping you safe, don’t you? ” ( Mads / Aleksei )

of course he'd feel guilty— it's an emotion so at home in his chest that he rarely even takes it into consideration anymore except when remembering brings sharp pangs of it to grip his chest. and he feels it now, wrapping a tight fist around his heart at madelinde's words, chased by an electric jolt of panic that sparks in his mind, trying to set it aflame.

his hands grip her forearms, not tight enough to hurt but tight enough to feel, guilt and panic twisting in his chest and the combination in his voice has it coming out harsh— bordering on angry, the words practically hissed through his teeth. "listen to me, madelinde— hear me, i beg: don't you ever do something as stupid as try and keep me safe. alright? that isn't your responsibility—" the piano string of panic in his mind is plucked by unseen fingers, his mind conjuring all sorts of scenarios in which madelinde's lack of self preservation would put her in harm's way on his behalf and his grip tights, giving her the slightest shake, "— i am not your responsibility. now, i've managed to keep myself alive this long without any additional acts of martyrdom to help me along the way. i don't need you stepping into harms way on my behalf— there's plenty enough here that would take the opportunity against you without you adding to it with my own shit. so you'll put the thought out of your head right now and we won't speak about it again. "

✧ — — @thrustfists

[mightyecho]

✧ — — starter for : aleksei && madelinde ( @thrustfists​ ) ✧ — — when : chapter ii , event ii ‘the festival of the divine’ ✧ — — where : within iarna keep, between the various festivities

for a brief, shining moment of time, he thinks the storm has passed— that the lazy smile on her face that slowly grows and brightens when she sees him is a reflection of the light that he’d been almost sure basradu had snuffed out while leaving her alive. and when she runs almost airily to him and throws her arms around his neck, he catches her- he always would, so long as there was breath in his lungs, he’d promised her that once and he meant to keep that promise- the breath escaping from his lungs in a soft ‘oof’.

he spins her, her skirts fluttering around them like a blooming flower before setting her down, his smile a tad tight at the twinge at his side— no matter. to see her smile after seeing nothing behind her eyes ( too long, it had been too long ), he’d let his guts spill out on the floor. “well, look what blessings the gods have gifted me,” he says warmly, his hands cupping her face, “why, mads, you look as pretty as a princess. prettier even.”

[mightyecho]

✧ — — @thrustfists​

—there has to be some respite. his search for the masked attacker hasn’t ceased but there are... other obligations that need to be taken care of as well. she’d asked him what feels like a different lifetime ago to teach her music and he’d be lying if he said his heart hadn’t lifted at the request. music had always been peace and joy for aleksei, whether playing for himself or for others; he hoped now more than ever that he could offer madelinde the same peace for it was more than apparent that she needed it.

he sits beside her, a beaten up gusli laid across her lap. the nature of his occupation required light traveling but the instrument had traveled from danruban taverns to the crysala sea coast to the towering walls of the great church in malsovia and as calloused hands move to cover hers, he’s grateful to have brought it along this time if only for the moment that’s happening right now. in her left hand, he slips a small metal pick in her fingers, his hand gently wrapping around hers to encourage her to hold it, “your fingers will be sore afterwards; this will help.”

blue eyes look over to her face, seeing nothing of the life that had sparked so brightly before— life that basradu had stolen without letting the axeman’s blade fall. she walks, she sees and she speaks but the madelinde sitting beside him is but a ghost of the girl he’d known. he leans towards her, pulling the arm wrapped around her shoulders to cradle her right hand tighter around her with an insistent pressure. ( you’re here. you’re here and i’m here with you. you aren’t alone in the dark, i won’t leave you there. )

“tell me if you know this one, dear heart,” his hand atop of hers moves, applying just the right amount of pressure on her fingers to pluck out a series of notes, “it’s a duet, so if you do, i’ll need your sweet voice to help me.” he repeats the series of notes, his voice warm and soft in her ear, “i’ll swim and sail on savage seas, with ne’er a fear of drowning...” his right hand moves hers higher on the instrument, plucking the strings in a tempo slow enough to keep the song going but slow enough for her to feel it, to try to learn it, “and gladly ride the waves of life, if you will marry me.”

it’s one of his favorites, an easy one to serenade ( and what good was music if not to use it to enamor, entice and endear? ) , learned at the feet of his parents as they danced and sang their love to each other. it’s that memory that he thinks of now, cradling madelinde’s hands in his as soft tones surrounded them, hoping to impart even a grain of that warm feeling to madelinde. “no scorching sun, nor freezing cold will stop me on my journey. if you will promise me your heart...” he pauses, the hands holding her held just above the strings, waiting to see if she knows the next verse.