#doom breaker webtoon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justminawrites · 1 year ago

Text

Harvesting a Dragon Heart

AO3

Summary: Anna Primrose had only meant to scare the slave. Aria, help her, not fall in love with him. tw: suicidal tendencies; slight swearing.

Anna Primrose had only meant to scare the slave.

She’d found him outside the Department of Human Resources Building, curled into a foetal position as mana dripped from a vial, forming a cobalt-blue pool around his bandaged wrist.

Well, found was a strong word. Anna had tripped over the bastard and gone sprawling across the dusty ground, staining her white skirt, breaking a heel – and was about to cuss him out, in public, before she caught sight of the unmistakable shock of white hair and fell silent.

Scrambling to her knees, Anna took his face in her hands examined it to be sure. Yep, it was him all right. The weirdo who offered to sell his organs to buy a few paltry bottles of recovery water. And it wasn’t just from her, no. She heard the man had been taking out loans right and left, and gotten himself into lifetimes worth of debt in a matter of days – missing interest payments, incurring late penalties – like he’d expected Aria, Goddess of Light, to come down from the sky and bail him out. Or the god of death.

Anna frowned down at his other palm frozen in an obscene gesture at the sky, and gently relaxed the fingers. He didn’t smell like mead, or anything else the tavern offered, so she doubted he’d been drinking his life savings away. It must be a result of hopelessness then. She’d seen it before, though not often – people went slightly insane once the slave mark had been placed on them, a despair like no other setting in. If this continued, not only would he never escape the mine, Anna would be plucking out his organs within the week. And she wanted to avoid that route as much as she could, if only to save herself the guilt of killing another person.

What this punk needed was a good scare, something to snap him out of his suicidal stupor and focus on repaying money to the Temple, before he lost his life as a result of this temporary stupidity. Maybe she’d threaten to cut off a finger; that usually brought them back to reality. Lowering his head back to the ground, Anna rose and dusted herself off.

‘Zephyr’, he’d scribbled onto the form she’d made him sign – no last name. An orphan like her then: (Primrose was the name the Temple gave her when they swore her in).

Anna uttered a silent plea in the back of her mind before she left to gather a few men to carry out her plan.

Get it together, Zephyr, she looked down at his unconscious form, evening light crowning the back of her head like a halo. You deserve to live.

“..white.. rose..”

“WAIT!”

The blade stopped, hovering a hair’s width above his finger. Zephyr gave her a devilish grin, sprawled out on the white sheets a few hours later, one hand cuffed to the bed-frame, almost lounging as he smirked away, her secret tucked between his pearly white teeth.

Anna was glad she shooed her two henchmen away immediately because the next words out of that lunatic’s mouth were ‘monster broker’, either of which would’ve instantly gotten her official priest privileges suspended for a fortnight (her supervisors only cared if she got caught) at least– not to mention confiscating her savings.

But there was something strange about the way Zephyr said it, so full of conviction, like her alias was far more famous than she realised. Though that wasn’t the case– at least not yet. White Rose was a rising star in the black market, yes, largely a result of using her affiliation with the Temple to discretely transport goods across borders but she’d hardly dealt in the larger catches within the Kingdom: Divine armoury, Potions and Dungeon-spoils, in particular, were completely out of her league.

Who the hell was this guy? She wracked her brain to remember if he was one of her old clients or someone she’d briefly run into at the black market, but Anna’s eyes kept drifting back to his snow-white locks– no, she would’ve definitely remembered someone with hair that unusual.

Zephyr kept grinning, knowing he had her in the palm of hand now – and she resisted the urge to smack that expression off his face.

In any other situation, she would appreciate the bitter taste of irony blooming on her tongue; being held hostage by the secret to her financial freedom. Until she figured out who’d run their mouth about her identity, she couldn’t kill him.

Anna pressed her hand into the white-fleece mattress, determined to stare Zephyr down, but his grey eyes only shone gleefully daring her to take up the challenge. So she did.

“I have a better proposal for you,” he said finally.

The predator’s head was huge.

Though it was merely a child of the species, it took up 60% of the room she’d rented. Her anger melted away into awe as she took in the beast’s leathery purple hide, rows and rows of sharp teeth and that hideous red tongue, dull and slimy– leaving a trail of watery blood and spit on the wooden floorboards.

“Well?” Zephyr asked flatly, arms crossed, “Do you like it?”

Did she like it? Anna could practically hear the cha-ching! of gold coins falling into her lap as she eyed the monstrous head. A (no longer) walking gold mine, she could name at least ten separate men who’d be free of the slave-mark if they had half of what this egregious thing was worth.

Not to mention the skills needed to exterminate a predator were.. Anna suddenly had a better idea why she’d found Zephyr passed out in the middle of the street.

“Anyway, let me make sure I get everything right–“

Once she explained the value of the other items he needed, and talked shop, they settled on a second exchange three weeks from now. A buzz of anticipation ran through her veins when they’d finished, the current carrying with it the intoxicating promise of notoriety.

A powerful man like Zephyr was sure to gain fame, despite being a slave, perhaps even because of it, and as everybody knows; fame begets money, lots of it– enough for her to buy her safety a thousand times over. Anna Primrose had just found her ticket out of here.

“But first..” Zephyr’s eyes narrowed wickedly, the crystalline grey clear enough, she imagined, to see through her soul.

“I need another favour.”

That jackass.

Anna swore as the mid-morning heat left her forehead and the back of her drenched with sweat.

Zephyr had taken the bottle of expensive liquor– worth more than the predator by the way– she’d saved especially for her supervisor (who said he’d put in a good word with The Holy One for her) so she had to visit the shops last minute to buy another. Unfortunately, the liquor store had a capacity limit at any given time.

Though no one dared crowd her outside, perks of being an official priest, the wind’s muggy embrace was almost too much for Anna to bear; humidity mixing with the minute particles of sand, coating the service of her neck in an itchy, sticky film. The paper fan in her hand provided no relief from the temperate climate, and she quickly ducked under a nearby blue awning for a blissful second of shade.

“Sister Primrose! I thought that was you!”

“Sister Bettiol!” Anna snapped her fan shut, as a woman with long lilac hair and round glasses came up to her, cloth bag in hand.

“What brings you to the shops so early?”

Angelia Bettiol smiled in her usual secretive manner, and Anna felt her grin twitch a fraction.

Though the woman was one of, if not the best, enchanters in the Temple– Angelia had acquired a reputation for being a ruthless information monger; she could sniff out a dirty secret like a kobold in mating season. It’s why Anna had largely kept out of her way till now.

“I could ask you the same, Sister,” Angelia’s violet eyes flickered with curiosity, “This isn’t usually your scene.”

“Oh you know,” she floundered, scrambling around in her own cloth pouch to produce something to explain herself, “I’m just looking for a few essentials– erm..”

Anna pulled out the parchment with Zephyr’s list, but Angelia plucked it out of her palm instantly.

“Oh my.. blessed enchantments, a Salamander stone, even a miraculous rosary..”

She snatched it back but it was too late; the damage had already been done.

“These are quite essential, Sister Primrose,” the other nun nodded sagely, “To take on a dungeon.”

“A dungeon?” She paled. Could Zephyr be–

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on joining the raid party next month?”

“I’m.. considering it,” Anna lied through gritted teeth, not meeting Angelia’s eyes. If Zephyr really was going to join The Holy One’s raid on The Tomb of the Fallen Princess then he’d need far better armour and weaponry than he’d demanded. That dungeon hadn’t been conquered in ten full years. She definitely had her work cut for her.

“How ..unlike you, Sister,” Angelia gave her a once-over and cryptically smiled again, “Well, if you need help preparing, you know where to find me.”

Anna was about to open her mouth but then Angelia waved over her shoulder cheerily and added,

“But don’t forget– I charge 4000 gold coins per blessed object!”

“Here’s the uniform and entry pass.”

Anna held out the folded robes (largest she could find) and the forged entry pass, up to a bemused Zephyr, with a huff.

They were following the pathway leading out from the Temple, across the picturesque lawns, peppered with trees and shrubs.

She’d been trying to glean any information about why he’d needed any of the items he’d asked her to acquire, for the last twenty minutes, much to no avail. Tight-lipped and frosty as ever, Zephyr mutely let her chatter herself out, while he watched on with something like condescension in his eyes. He was probably still be mad about the whole finger-chopping thing.

“Alchemy equipment is big and hard to move,” She said thoughtfully, “–so I can’t just lend it to you."

As she explained the plan (he could sneak into the Temple and use the alchemy labs after seven o’ clock) she noticed her client relax slightly, his look of disapproval melting into begrudging admiration of her resourcefulness. Before she could capitalise on it, however, they were interrupted.

“There you are, Sister.”

Anna felt a chill overtake her as Ned Stryer’s voice interrupted her, the tone running a cold knife down her spine, pallid skin rippling with goose-pimples under her robes.

She dropped Zephyr’s arm like a hot stone and stepped forward, forcing herself to look the Inquisitor’s agent in the eye, as she covered her client’s hulking torso behind the Temple sigil on her robes. She knew that lot would try something (especially after that nasty business with Sahak) but she applauded the audacity he must have to do it right in front of her, an official priest.

Ned didn’t even bother to acquiesce her eye contact when he invited her out for tea, those burning ochre eyes locked onto his prey with the precise focus of a black steel spider. Zephyr returned his sentiment all too readily, grey eyes hungry for the challenge as he stepped forward but held out a bandaged arm to shield her. The intent was loud and clear: This is between you and me, the action seemed to say, Leave her out of it.

Before Anna could read too much into that, the mana force-field began crackling on the surface of her skin. It was like two live wires had collided into one another with an unmatchable ferocity, restless-red versus an impulsive-blue, the leftover magic skidding this way and that; charged with electricity sharp enough that it drilled into her flesh, into her bone.

The trees around them began to sway with the influx of energy, birds hastily taking flight leaving their nests behind in fear of the electric storm. Even the air became heavy with the unmistakably metallic taste of blood.

She had to do something.

"Get on your knees, both of you.”

An unmistakable shiver of pleasure shot through Anna like adrenaline as the two men bowed to the Temple’s power, their twin slave marks glowing in response to her command.

Before Ned could gather his wits, or even realise what she was doing; Anna walked up to Zephyr, grabbed her client by the scruff of his brown collar, summoned every bit of fear and anger into her the flat of her palm and slapped him– hard.

“If you lay a finger on him, I’ll kill you.”

Anna steadied her shaking hands against her knees.

She couldn’t imagine what had possessed her to lie so brashly, but her final confrontation with the red-haired assassin replayed over and over in her head, leaving her insides knotted with anxiety.

They’d managed to evade Ned because of her milking the charade, loudly announcing to no one in particular how much she was going to discipline Zephyr – who, to his credit, looked more confused than hurt (by the slap) – the second they returned to the Temple.

Anna let go of his collar the moment they turned a corner and collapsed onto the stone steps out of sheer relief, not caring how discoloured her skirt would get. Zephyr leaned against a wall instead, looking more like a put out child than someone safe from certain danger, his eyes clouded with memories of somewhere or someone far away.

The sight irritated her so much she began to scold him, just how many more times would she need to save this ungrateful bastard? Not just Sahak and the Inquisitors, he’d had to go pick a fight with someone infamous for beating his enemies so thoroughly, all that was left were their corpses. It was a miracle Zephyr hadn’t died of his own accord yet– a miracle, or a desperate bargain he’d struck with fate.

Anna promptly rose and walked up to his place by the wall. The only acknowledgement she received in return was her client’s eyes clearing back to grey.

“I swear if you don’t pay back your debt, I’ll kill you myself!” She chided half-heartedly, the anger finally draining out of her in one fell swoop to make room for dread. Surely Ned wouldn’t attack her just for using the slave mark to break up a fight– surely the Temple would keep her safe.

Anna recalled the night-dark chill she’d felt in her heart when the assassin had first said her name. No, the Temple couldn’t protect her from anything. But Zephyr.. Zephyr had tried.

Warmth surged into her face when she recalled the vaguely defensive stance he’d taken when the fight seemed to be on the verge of breaking out– his arm poised to shove her behind him at the first sign of attack. The same arm she’d threatened to mutilate.

Anna sighed, eyeing the smarting mark on his cheek with a mix of shame and gratitude herself, and reached out to gently take the side of his face in her hand. It must have stung, but her panic in that moment hadn’t allowed her to do anything else. She’d have to find him some kind of balm for that later– potions weren’t her forte, though she could try.

Zephyr went taught at the unexpected caress but stayed still, eyes laser-focused on her next move. The words left her mouth before she could even make sense of them.

“Try to be more careful,” she said softly, “I can’t protect you outside the temple.”

A part of her was glad he brushed her hand away from his face then (though another part was mortified), and waved away her worry with some nonsense about how if Ned wanted to fight, neither hell nor high water could keep him from it.

This time, Anna could almost pinpoint the second when Zephyr’s clouded over with that far off responsibility and he turned from her, slinging the uniform she’d given him, over his back. He had an urgent matter he needed to carry out and the Alchemy labs couldn’t wait.

She watched him go with pursed lips, determined not to let the embarrassment overrun her cheeks until he was a safe distance away, when she was sure he couldn’t see her.

What was she thinking? Protect him?! This incorrigible, idiotic, reckless asshole–

“Also..” he stopped to flash her another insufferable grin over his shoulder, and Anna swore her heart hiccuped in her chest.

“You wouldn’t mind doing me one more favour?”

That damn Jackass.

Anna hurriedly kicked the soiled rag under her bed frame as a group of nuns walked by her open door, peeking in to see a spotless room and a neat, blue carpet. The carpet was new, she’d bought it especially to cover up the trapdoor that led down to the abbey’s liquor cellar (where she usually did her dealings). She didn’t know exactly why Zephyr needed her room but she wasn’t about to give him any ideas.

He said he needed to remain uninterrupted for the evening but that was such a vague explanation that he could have said nothing at all and she would’ve had a better idea of his plan. And how could she refuse when he’d so cleverly thrown her words back in her face– c’mon White Rose, you said you’d protect me as long as I’m in the Temple, didn’t ya?

Anna’s face burned with the memory and she had the inexplicable urge to hide her face in her hands like a smitten schoolgirl.

Slumping back onto the bed, she felt the tension in her shoulders release temporarily as she massaged the back of her neck– this man would be the death of her.

“A little spring cleaning, Sister?”

Anna looked up to see Angelia gracefully standing by the open doorframe, scripture in hand, a wooden rosary dangling from of its pages.

“I’m.. expecting a guest,” Anna replied, sensing that a white lie would be the only way to placate her fellow nun, “By the way, have you given any thought to what I mentioned before?"

“Oh yes,” the lavender-eyed woman nodded, “It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“But–“ she began, about to defend her point; Angelia held up a silencing hand.

“3000 gold coins for five full enchantments? Why, it’s like you’re trying to rob me in broad daylight!”

“They’re hardly complex–“ Anna refuted but the other nun only rolled her eyes.

“Complexity has nothing to do with it!” Angelia shot back, “–it’s just business, Sister Primrose. Surely you know that better than anyone.”

She fell quiet at that. The lilac-haired nun wasn’t wrong, 3000 gold coins for five enchantments from even the weakest sorcerer was a surefire highway robbery but she doubted Zephyr could afford much more. He hadn’t brought in a single catch since the black-steel spiders, too busy getting himself involved with the Inquisitors and their subordinates– but if he was to stand a fighting chance in The Tomb of the Fallen Princess, only Angelia was skilled enough to make it happen.

Not for the first time, Anna wondered if she should just pay the lot of it off and add it back to Zephyr’s debt, now declining at an even slower pace than before. But at that rate, he’d be in debt to the Temple of Light forever; though much good that would do her if he simply died in the dungeon as a result of subpar equipment.

Angelia narrowed her eyes as Anna argued back-and-forth with herself internally; shutting her book with a gentle thud! to pull the younger girl out of her reverie.

“Well..” Angelia broke the silence, finally getting her blonde friend’s attention, “–I’m not heartless, you know. I could be persuaded to offer a little discount.”

Anna perked up, “And I do mean little discount,” the purple-eyed woman repeated sternly, “If.. you tell me who your mystery guest is to you.”

“O-oh..” Anna looked away, unable to meet her shrewd gaze.

It wasn’t the lack of a lie that made her pause; far from it, in fact, she could probably spin three separate, carefully detailed stories about Zephyr’s identity on the spot, with just enough to gossip to satiate her friend’s appetite. No, it was the fact that the question itself seemed like a double-edged sword. Angelia had asked her who the guest was, but had implied something else– who is your mystery guest.. to you?

Who was Zephyr.. to her. That was an answer Anna wasn’t sure she wanted to discover. He was her client– a client who knew a little bit more about this world than anyone his age had the business of knowing. A client who drove her insane with his antics. A client who had a mouth so foul she’d ought to make him eat soap for the rest of his life. A client who sent her heart fluttering.

Anna had forgotten her heart could flutter like that.

As she absentmindedly touched her cheek (recalling the fateful slap), Angelia remarked dryly, “So it’s a man.”

“No!” Her dissent was too high-pitched, too squeaky, to be the truth; Angelia picked up on it just as quickly.

“Uh huh,” the nun shook her head in disbelief, “You know, I never pegged you for the romantic type.”

“I- I beg your pardon?” Anna replied, irritation creeping into her tone– had Angelia gone mad? Her, a romantic? And for him of all people?!

Anna pictured those damned grey eyes, fixing her with a look that was both a challenge and a plea, the eyes of a desperate man constantly on the verge of taking a step too far into the darkness. She recognised the expression all too well, she’d worn it often enough back when she still had something left to lose.

“I wonder what kind of man he must be,” Angelia teased as she left, pulling the room door shut with finality, “–to fluster the great Anna Primrose.”

“Are you ready, White Rose?”

Anna sucked in a breath as Zephyr’s croaky voice urged her to stick the poisoned needle into the centre of his scalp. It was supposed to be easy, a standard procedure where he was from, he’d assured her (though he omitted where exactly that was), as long as she did not, under any circumstances, panic.

She wasn’t panicking, she wasn’t panicking. Anna’s fingers trembled as she imagined the needle slipping out of her grasp and clinking onto the wooden floorboards. She definitely was not panicking.

“Now,” he said, not waiting for her answer, the muscles in his shoulders tensing, bracing for impact. She took a breath and stuck it in.

The effect was electric– more so than the forty others he’d stuck along the length of his arms– Zephyr’s face drained of colour so fast it matched his hair, purple veins forming a sickly, protruding web across his countenance, as his bloodshot eyes shuttered.

He swayed slightly, and Anna dropped to her knees to catch him, one hand going straight to his face, as the other supported his torso.

“Hey listen,” She tapped the side of his cheek, faithfully repeating what he’d asked her to say, “You need to use your mana-flow. Circulate the poison throughout your body.”

“Can you hear me?” Zephyr looked up at her in confusion, his grey eyes clouded over with a purple haze. Shit, shit, shit, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Don’t let me close my eyes, he’d made her promise before handing her the needle, if I fall asleep..

There was a good chance he wouldn’t wake up.

“Hey, Sir,” Anna’s voice was level despite her rising panic, “Sir, you need to stay awake.”

“Althaoirrth–” he slurred, trying to prop himself up, but his head lolled back uncooperatively. She shifted his weight against the bed frame instead, to better hold him up, and keep those eyes from closing.

“Althairrrshhhwrrfuckoff–”

“Zephyr,” Anna hissed, shaking him by his bare shoulders as his head swayed back and forth and back and forth, “Zephyr, get it together.”

It was useless. The fearsome warrior (fearsome idiot, more like)– was completely incapacitated by the poison. How could she have thought this was good idea? Now her greatest source of income was going to die on the floor of her own room, and the temple acolytes were going to fillet him for his organs without a second thought.

Switching tactics, Anna extricated herself from his body and frantically began to pull open the draws on her bedside table. Her hands closed around a wooden healing rosary she’d tossed in there for emergencies. She hurriedly turned around to find Zephyr lying on his back now, his breathing shallow, as beads of sweat began to trickle down his temples.

Anna swept his drenched bangs off his forehead and pressed the rosary in its place, muttering a simple enchantment under her breath. The spell couldn’t do anything to remove the poison, but it would jumpstart for Zephyr’s heart and his mana circulation– she hoped that’d be enough to bring him back to his senses too.

Golden light glowed where the wood met skin: Zephyr’s breaths slowly got deeper, his chest rising and falling as his body built up immunity to the poison. After a few excruciatingly long seconds, he reached up and weakly plucked the needle out of his head, eyes still closed, letting it drop to the floorboards with a soft clink!

“Thank Aria,” She sighed in relief, slumping forwards as her shoulders fell – all the terror leaving her at once, “You gave me a real scare there, jerk.”

Zephyr blinked up at her slowly, the purple still tinting his gaze, and stretched out his calloused fingers to gently, gently tuck a lock of Anna’s hair behind her ear.

Her breath caught in her throat when he tilted his head and whispered “Altair?”

Anna scrambled backwards, her back to the bed-frame, as Zephyr painfully propped himself up.

“Altair,” he said again, the ache in his voice plain as day, “–it’s me. Do you remember?”

Anna didn’t know what to do. She’d meant for the rosary to reboot his brain but not this drastically. Maybe the poison was messing with his perception of reality? She figured it must be doing something, since Zephyr was looking at her like she was someone else all of a sudden; the stoic facade cracking open to reveal a wounded deer within.

“No,” she said more calmly than she felt, “I’m not.. uhm..”

Her voice rose in pitch as he leaned closer, face (lips) inches from hers as he examined her own, unable to tear his gaze away from her emerald green eyes, sparkling with desire.

Blood rushed into Anna’s head so fast, her vision blurred with spots. Somewhere in the corner of her mind, Anna realised her nun’s habit had slipped off her head, leaving her feeling strangely vulnerable.

Zephyr’s gaze, normally blade-like and sharp enough to slice through glass, was feather soft now; filled with so much raw emotion that she felt like he was marking her skin with only his eyes – leaving a trail from her eyelashes, down her cheeks, hovering at the crook of her neck, where the gold lining of her collar chafed into the pale, freckled flesh.

Moonlight spilled into the room, illuminating his moonshine hair with an otherworldly luminescence. In this light Anna could almost think him a god– immortal beauty, immortal pain etched into his features like a birthright. For the first time she wondered what could’ve happened to this man to leave him so (empty wasn’t the right word, more like) incomplete; missing an essential piece of himself.

Like he wanted to be human so badly but couldn’t quite remember how.

Zephyr exhaled a little, the warm breath eliciting goosebumps in places Anna hadn’t ever felt before, and the tiny pinpricks of want suddenly fanned into a burning, scalding passion in her; a live drakōn writhing under her breast, setting her heart aglow.

“Alt–“ He began to say, until she pressed her index finger to his bottom lip to shush him.

“Anna,” she corrected hoarsely, her voice little more than a whisper.

He raised an eyebrow but leaned into the touch, pulled by a magnetic force, as though he was testing how far they’d go – how far she’d let him go. The candle on her nightstand blew out.

“Anna,” Zephyr’s voice rumbled with approval as she moved her hands from his face to around his neck, leaving a hair’s with of space between their lips as her body succumbed to that same force field– wanting, no, needing to press up against him, her nails piercing the scarred flesh of his back.

All of a sudden, Anna had to draw blood– deep, crimson blood to prove it: Zephyr wasn’t a god, he wasn’t a monster, he was just a man.

A man who wanted... who wanted..

“Who’s Altair?”

Zephyr looked up from the bed to give her a pointed glare Anna was too busy scuffing the floorboards, to see.

She had a hard time meeting his eyes after the ‘Incident’; even though it happened over a week and a half ago. The madness Zephyr had been under because of the poison, disappeared the moment her nails broke through skin, his roulette wheel of memory clicking to a stop when she’d hesitated instead of kissing him.

“White Rose?” He’d said then, the lust in his tone replaced by dry bemusement– and in a fit of thoughtlessness, Anna shoved him away and fled her own room, panickedly slamming the door after her to hide her embarrassment.

Zephyr hadn’t asked what all of that was about for weeks, and Anna hadn’t volunteered any information on her end either.. until now.

“No one,” He replied finally, twisting the gold ring she’d given him. The curse-breaking ‘Ring of Purification’ was Anna’s trump card, one of the best deals she’d ever made but hadn’t found a worthy enough investment to trade against. The Tomb of the Fallen Princess, however, looked hellish enough to warrant a change in mindset.

And it was almost worth it to see Zephyr’s face break into a rare, warm smile, when she’d ambushed him in his room.

“You said her name when you were poisoned,” Anna leaned against the bedpost, hands behind her back, faking nonchalance as she scrutinised the exact way Zephyr’s back muscles tensed when he leaned forward.

“She must’ve been someone important.”

“She wa– is. She is,” he corrected, pinching the bridge of his nose, “She’s the most important woman in my life.”

“Oh,” Anna coughed, “Is she the one who taught you to brew those poisons?”

“What? No– listen White Rose–“

“Shh!” She hissed, shooting a glance at the closed wooden door, “Are you trying to announce my identity to everyone in this building?”

“It’s Anna.”

“Listen Anna–“ Zephyr raked his hands through his hair in frustration, “–what exactly did I do when I was under the influence of the poison?”

Anna fought the blush that lingered in the back of her cheeks, “N-nothing.”

“Why, what do you remember?”

“Nothing,” he sighed, “It’s like a blank slate. And you left so suddenly–“

“That’s because you were fine–“ she deflected, “The procedure worked.”

“You’ve been avoiding me since,” he said indifferently, “–and you show up out of nowhere with this gift– how did you know where I live–“

“Th-that’s not important–“ Anna felt herself get more flustered with each statement, “I’m an underworld broker, I have my sources.”

This time Zephyr’s pointed look hit her full force, grey eyes narrowed with disbelief.

Anna crossed her arms stubbornly, willing to call another one of his bluffs, her greed temporarily overshadowing her nun’s sense of decorum.

“Was Alt– was she in Persephone with you?” She pressed.

“The Assassin guild?”

“C’mon, you don’t have to play coy with me,” Anna cupped her face conspiratorially, like she was letting him in on a secret, “I know.”

“Uh.. huh. You know that..”

“That you’re an assassin, silly.” She winked, “Why else would you be so freakishly strong or have all these poisons no one’s ever heard of?”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Zephyr began, but she steamrolled right through his protests.

“Tell me truth, you’ve got some kind of love potion in there too, haven’t ya? I caught wind of its side-effects the other day. Pretty potent stuff, you could make quite the killing on the black market with that.”

“I’ve got– what–“

“Alright, play hardball,” she huffed, her bangs fluttering away from her face, “I’ll get it out of you one of these days, just watch.”

“I’m truly not sure what the hell you’re talking about,” he said plainly as Anna shrugged and made to leave.

“Yeah, yeah,” the blonde rolled her eyes, pulling open the wooden door, “Take care of that ring, you hear me? It cost me a lot you ungrateful bastard.”

The door shut brusquely, and Zephyr was left staring blankly at the place Anna was as the last traces of floral perfume diffused through the wood with her.

“Wait, Anna!”

Anna turned around to see Angelia puffing as she struggled to catch up with her cheery strides.

“What’s got you in such a great mood?” The purple-haired woman demanded, noticing the uncharacteristically sunny disposition Anna had been flaunting the past few days.

“Nothing that would interest you,” Anna said slyly, “I just heard a rumour recently that was very.. dull.”

“Oh?” Angelia wheezed, wiping her glasses on her satin skirt, “Is that so.”

“Yes, but it’s hardly your cup of tea, Sister,” She tutted, one hand to her chin, “after all, it’s about..”

Anna knew she had her friend, hook, line and sinker when mouthing the word “poisons” was enough for Angelia to jerk back, as if stung by a wasp. The information monger and notorious temple gossip knew the right data could sell for thousands– possibly millions– of gold coins and Anna had built up a reputation for being reliable when it came to knowledge. And Angelia Bettiol had connections running deep within the nobility, as Anna had come to find.

“How much do you want?” Angelia said immediately, not beating around the bush. She reached within the sleeve of her robes to pull out a satchel of gold.

“It’s not money I’m interested in, dear sister Bettiol,” Anna put on an affected air, though her heart jumped with glee, “Remember my little favour?”

“What do you think? Do you like it?”

Anna couldn’t suppress the thin undercurrent of pride in her tone as she watched Zephyr take in all the armour and weaponry she’d procured for his raid.

He said little, but his eyes widened when he reached over to unsheathe the ‘Twilight Longsword’ from its place in the wall with a gentle hiss. Anna had known him long enough to know that was how he expressed gratefulness. Gratefulness and relief; the ever mysterious burden he carried easing it’s weight on his back, just a little.

“Sorry I’m late!” Anna turned to see Angelia knock on the door, carrying a brown muslin bag for her enchantments.

“My name is Angelia– I work as an enchanter for the lab,” she introduced herself, gently plopping her the bag down on the floor as she shot Zephyr a cryptic smile.

“You must be the client Anna told me about.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he crossed his arms.

“Likewise,” the purple-haired woman looked back and forth between them, “You’re quite the interesting man.”

Zephyr raised his eyebrow at the subtle jab (no doubt meant for her), as Anna huffed and snatched the sword from his hands to hand over to the other nun.

“Let’s get on with it, then.”

As Angelia enchanted the five essential weapons, Anna felt the weight of Zephyr’s grey eyes hover over her skin like lead– was it suspicion? Curiosity? Could he somehow tell that she’d traded away information about him being an assassin in exchange for Angelia’s reduced charges?

Maybe it was awe, she thought to herself; maybe he harboured a greater fondness for her now. Not as much as Altair but maybe, maybe just a little. The idea made her smile, even if it felt cursed to think.

“Oh, Mother of Glory..”

Zephyr’s heavy gaze shifted to Angelia as her spell casting grew louder, and Anna fought the urge to look up at him then, training her gaze to the needle-scars on his forearms instead, and the unmistakable gold band looped around his left index finger.

He wasn’t hers, and he wouldn’t be. Not now, not ever– but for the first time, in the safety of the Temple with the warm evening glow enveloping the room like a loving embrace, Anna allowed herself to wonder what it would be like if he was.

CRASH!

Angelia sighed as the younger girl’s fingers trembled over the remnants of yet another smashed porcelain set.

“Really, Sister Primrose,” the purple-haired nun sighed, kneeling to look her blonde friend in the eye, “Do you hate my tea that much?”

Anna didn’t even bother to lift her head, gaze fixed on a broken teacup shard that was gently swaying back and forth, wondering again of the man that had left her months ago.

The Holy One had returned, the parish had been cleansed of Tartarus worshipers, and Zephyr had set off on yet another adventure, his slave-mark removed, his debts fulfilled, to join the Blue Dragon raid in the city of the Elves.

Everything had seemingly changed overnight, and even though weeks had passed, Anna was still finding it hard to get used to the forcefield around the Temple and the hordes of angry warriors at the gates. Brokering was out of the question, especially since The Holy One was cracking down on any and every form of illegal activity he could sniff out within the mile; so Anna busied her days with praying and taking tea to his wife– the nuns had set a routine to keep themselves occupied, though many like Anna were bordering on stir crazy due to the isolation of it all.

“Sister? Are you listening?”

“Hm?” Anna looked up to see Angelia’s purple brows knitted with worry, and gave her a weak half-smile.

“How clumsy of me, Sister,” she forced cheer into her voice, “All this rest is making me lazy, isn’t it?”

Angelia looked unconvinced.

“Have you been eating, Anna?” The older woman asked, placing a well-manicured palm on the flat of her forehead, “You look unwell.”

Anna let out a mumble of dissent but couldn’t bring herself to completely lie to her friend. She wasn’t trying to starve, it was just the food had become so tasteless within the first few weeks of confinement that she’d just replaced her meals with a dry river of wine instead. All the thoughts she’d been carrying throughout the day disappeared when the first sip hit the back of her throat, and lulled her to bed– it was basically medicinal.

Sure, her cheeks hollowed and her hands shook quite a bit now but Anna was hardly the only one going through a crisis. Most of the Temple nuns had been part of the bustling underworld of the town, and now, cut off from all their resources, it seemed that many of them were rethinking their choices to remain in service to Aria.

“Is there any news about–“ Anna asked instead, swallowing the rest of her sentence when she watched Angelia’s face fall.

“We don’t know anything about the Blue Dragon Raid yet, except that it’s underway,” Angelia sighed, “–and that Princess Altair is betting everything she has on it.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

Anna caught her breath– surely this wasn’t– she wasn’t– Princess?

‘The most important woman in my life,’ Zephyr had said. That damn bastard, Anna cursed in her head half-heartedly; he’d been in love with the crown princess.

“May Aria be with them,” she mumbled softly, as Angelia helped her to her feet.

“I hope so,” Angelia continued, oblivious to her friend’s face paling at each word, “It’s hard to recover from a loss like this one. If the Princess fails, she might never regain the trust of her country again.”

“Is she.. pretty?” Anna hated the words as soon as they came out of her mouth, “You know, I’ve never actually met her in person–“

Angelia narrowed her eyes, “Yes, a great beauty from what I’ve heard.”

“‘Raven-dark hair, lily-white skin and eyes of sea-glass green,’ I think the minstrels put it.”

“Oh,” she said again, recalling the fateful night of Zephyr’s poisoning, how he couldn’t look away from Anna’s own green eyes.. That’s why he thought..

“Right. She must be gorgeous. She’s a princess after all.”

“What’s this about?“ Angelia asked, putting a comforting hadn’t on Anna’s shoulder, “Is it Ze–“

“No! No–“ Anna replied quickly, shrugging her hand off, “Nothing to do with that dumb jerk. He’s so crazy he’s probably going to get eaten by the Blue Dragon itself this time.

Anyway, I should– I should clean this up. I’ll see you around Sister Bettiol.”

As Anna turned heel and hastened her way to the Temple cellar (where the cleaning supplies were kept) she desperately hoped Angelia hadn’t seen the tears lining the corner of her eyes, before she rubbed them away.

She took the left corridor and hurried down a flight of stone stairs, back to the alcove where she’d first traded away the predator head and black-steel spiders Zephyr had got her. Crossing the fateful place, Anna held her breath, like she was afraid the memory of that day would slip into her lungs and take root in the poisoned remains of her dying affection.

Throwing open an inconspicuous door built into the wall, Anna found herself facing vials of cleaning liquid, and a single mop. Before she could pick either of them up however, the imperceptible shiiing sound of an unsheathed blade hit her ears, just as she felt a bead of blood slide down her neck and stain her white collar.

A man was standing behind her (how had she not seen him?), dagger to her throat, his breathy whisper in her ear.

“Hello, WhiteRose.” He said. Anna looked at him out of the corner of her eye and almost gasped in surprise. Half of his face was covered in bands of scarred, sun-beaten flesh.

“I believe you have something of mine.”

His other hand swooped up to reveal the two vials of poison Zephyr had entrusted to her, the ones she’d safely locked away in her room.

“Want to tell me where you got these?” The man growled.

Anna looked into his amber eyes, crackling with anger, and gulped.

______________________________________________________________

A/N: Sooo Doom Breaker has taken over my body mind and soul and Anna Primrose AKA Whiterose is one of the best characters IN THE COMIC. Don't get me wrong i like Altair n stuff but a morally grey nun who's also a top monster broker???? Cmon female characters are never half as interesting as that TITLE alone like yes tell me more.

Plus her dynamic with Zephyr is just refreshing bc it's NEW for him too like he didn't have some kind of already existing relationship with her it's fun it's good it's entertaining I PRAY Fade doesn't kill her in like the first 10 minutes.

1 note · View note