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Sylvia liked to think of herself as a competent combatant. After all, she had centuries of experience upon which she had honed her skills and tested them in the fires of battle. But even centuries of experience can’t help against a mob of hired guns sent to end her once and for all.
She went into this business knowing that people don’t like their secrets being known, and they like it even less when those secrets are being leveraged against them. She knew this, and she prepared for it. A back room brawl with some thugs was a simple matter in her book, just another aspect of the job. If someone got too anxious about their secrets being leaked, enough that they sent out assassins, she had insurance that even if she died, the information would get out and her opponent would be ruined.
You didn’t fuck with Sylvia Zysalor. That was a known fact. But apparently Sylvia had grown complacent due to this reputation, and now it was costing her.
It had been an ordinary day, just like all the others had been this week. She went to her office, tried to get through as much of the blasted paperwork as she could before it multiplied again the next morning, and then went out to talk to some of her contacts. It was routine, it was normal. Until the first of the would-be assassins stepped out from the shadows of the alley she was traversing. Then another, and another, until she was surrounded on all sides by figures wielding sharp implements with malicious intent practically dripping off of them.
Sylvia tensed up and prepared to cast a spell the second this turned ugly. She hid this, however, and instead greeted the thugs with an air of nonchalance. “Good afternoon gentlemen, I assume this is about that nasty business with poor old Vulwin?”
The thug that she assumed was the leader of this bunch flashed a wicked smirk and chuckled. “Smart cookie. The boss wants you out of the equation and we’re here to do some subtraction.”
Sylvia gives the man a disgusted look. “That was terrible, abysmal even. You need to work on your one-liners.”
The man looked offended. “Who are you to judge?”
Sylvia shrugged. “It’s professional pride my good sir. I can’t go letting a novice go around uneducated. Here, let me teach you.” She moves her hands in a grand sweeping gesture, outstretched before her and glowing with a dull orange light. “What is it they say at funerals again? Oh right. Ashes to ashes, dust. To. Dust.” And she let loose a stream of fire.
A handful of would-be assassins were taken out instantly, and most of the others were injured in some way or another as she swirled the flames in an arc around her, a wicked smile stretching across her face. She cackled as the smell of burnt flesh registered in her brain, preparing a fistful of lightning for the next unfortunate soul who presented themselves to her. A warning of an arrow that would be coming from behind, and she danced out of the way and threw the lightning at the archer, cackling intensifying.
Sylvia lost herself in the thrill of letting loose for the first time in decades. Her premonition magic helped her avoid most of the attacks before they even came, and she slowly picked off the thugs one by one. But even with her future sight, she couldn’t avoid all the attacks that came her way, especially when they coordinated and multiple people attacked at once.
The tide turned against her midway through the fight when all of a sudden, her premonition sense stopped working. She looked over her shoulder and saw one of her attackers with a glowing hand outstretched towards her, grinning maliciously.
They’d brought a mage with them.
Shit.
She pulled a dagger out from under her coat and began making her way towards the pesky wizard. The majority of her attackers had been dealt with at this point, but those that hadn’t were the actually competent ones, and they used her distraction to their advantage. By the time she had reached the mage, they had regrouped and were preparing a counterattack. She thrust the dagger through the wizard’s eye, instantly killing him and restoring her premonition.
She wasn’t fast enough.
As soon as her premonition came back, she foresaw blades coming at her from all angles, and she was too slow to dodge. She hissed and with a wave of her hand, threw most of the assailants against the alley walls. There were multiple simultaneous crunches and bodies slid bonelessly to the ground. All that was left now was the leader and a handful of goons. She prepared to end it all, but before she did she tried to see if she could wheedle some information out of the leader.
“So Vulwin thinks my death will prevent the information about his illicit affairs with high ranking Maestros from getting out? Oh he is sorely mistaken.” Sylvia coughs, and she can taste iron in her mouth. Something is dripping down her chin, and she wipes it away with her sleeve and looks down to see a smear of blood marring her coat. ‘Oh, oh that’s not good.’
As the gravity of the situation she found herself in took hold in her mind, she collapsed against the alley wall, body no longer able to sustain its own weight. Wounds she didn’t know she’d taken suddenly flared up and became very apparent as she struggled to remain upright. Her indifferent facade was cracking, and it was cracking fast.
“I see the poison has finally kicked in.” The leader commented, slowly making his way towards her slumped over form, goons circling around her like vultures. He was grinning, far too satisfied with this turn of events. Sylvia wanted to wipe that look off his face.
Shit, shit, SHIT! She berated herself for not accounting for the possibility of poisoned weapons, but it was too late to change what had happened. Do not let the opposition know when they have the upper hand. Do not let others know when they have you on the defensive. Do not show weakness.
Sylvia tried once more to stand up before, to her horror, she noticed her limbs going numb and limp. She tried to cast a spell, any spell, but it just fizzled out in her hand. She looked up as the shadow of the man loomed above her, his face going from delighted satisfaction to vengeful as he looked down upon her.
He kicked her, hard, in her stomach. She coughed blood onto his shoe. “That was for killing my men!”
Another kick, this time to her face. A crunch echoed through the now silent alley. “That was for my arm!”
He pulled out a knife and crouched down. The tip was placed against her chin as he looked her in the eye, dark promise hidden in those depths. “And this… this is for the boss.”
‘This is a terrible and undignified way to go.’ Sylvia was displeased. She was very displeased. Why couldn’t they have gunned her down in battle? Why couldn’t she have gone out in a blaze of glory? But nooooo, they had to mock her while she lay helpless on the ground like a newborn babe. She was so gonna haunt their asses in the afterlife.
She didn’t mind the idea of dying. In fact, she had expected she would have kicked the bucket sooner than this. In her line of work one made many enemies after all. Her work would continue on after she died. All the information she had gathered over the decades was stored in her vaults hidden in properties she owned around the city. Zain knew how to access the important ones and she trusted him to use the information contained within to good effect. If need be he would bring Maeve in on something and she would milk it for all its worth using the most dastardly of methods; legalese.
The one thing she would regret about her death would be leaving Zain and Maeve behind. Zain had been her friend for decades at this point. They had joined the Obscura at the same time and helped each other climb the ranks to where they were now. And Maeve….. She would regret what could have been with Maeve. Maeve had never been one to stay with one person for long, and Sylvia respected that fact. Even if she wished otherwise.
Before the assassin could finish her off there was a voice from the end of the alley. “What are you boys doing down here to cause such a racket?”
‘Speak of the devil and she shall appear it seems.’ From her position slumped against the wall Sylvia could make out the figure of Maeve standing at the mouth of the alley, an expression of polite disinterest on her face. She was looking at her nails, barely paying any attention to the thugs in the alley, an air of apathy towards the whole thing clearly evident. She looked up, mouth moving to likely say another sarcastic quip, but then she caught sight of who the thugs were attacking, and she froze.
“Get lost lady, this has nothing to do with you.” The leader was annoyed, that was clear to all, but Maeve didn’t move. She just stood there and looked at Sylvia’s prone form, taking in the various cuts and bruises and the fact that she wasn’t fighting back.
Why wasn’t she fighting back?
Maeve’s expression turned murderous. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
The thugs were getting agitated. “I told you to get lost already lady. Leave before we make you.”
Sylvia didn’t know that such a thing was possible, but Maeve’s expression turned even more thunderous. “And I asked you a question. I won’t repeat it again. What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Think. You. Are. Doing.”
It wasn’t a question anymore. It had become an order, and her words carried the weight of magical authority behind them. The leader appeared to struggle with himself, before admitting his actions through gritted teeth.
Sylvia had never seen Maeve so angry before. She was actually shaking, and her hands kept clenching and unclenching into fists at her side. When she spoke, her voice was flat and cold, oh so cold. “Look at me.”
Gods she looked exquisite when she was angry.
The air was heavy with magical intent, and the thugs had no choice but to stop what they were doing and obey the Broker’s word. A sword shimmered into being in her hand, illuminating the alley with a soft white glow. She snarled with rage, and leapt at Sylvia’s assailants.
There was something beautiful about the way Maeve cut a man in half from head to groin, Sylvia decided. She couldn’t put her finger on why exactly she thought so, but at this point she didn’t think it would matter. Blood splattered across Maeve’s face but she didn’t care, she just kept mowing down her foes, a predator among her prey.
The slaughter ended when Maeve slid her sword through the leader’s throat, expression as flat as Sylvia’s nose probably was. Her sword faded away as quickly as it had appeared and she surveyed the carnage around her with grim satisfaction. A cough from Sylvia reminded her why she had painted the alley red, and she immediately whirled around and kneeled beside Sylvia, placing her head in her lap.
“Sylvia? Stay with me Sylvia!” Maeve looked scared. Why did she look so scared?
“Heh. I didn’t know you cared that much about me. That’s good to know.” Blood was bubbling through her lips and dribbling down her chin. Her limbs felt like lead, and it was becoming oh so hard to focus.
“Gods damn it Sylvia you are not allowed to pass out on me!” Maeve pinched Sylvia’s arm in an effort to keep her awake, keep her present, keep her alive. Sylvia didn’t feel a thing.
“Sorry Maeve, don’t think I can do that for you.” Her vision was fading, Maeve nothing more than a vague blur before her.
“I’m not losing you Sylvia! Damn it all, not now!” The alley lit up with the power of Maeve’s healing magic, trying desperately to keep her conscious.
“I trust you, you’ll get me out of here.” Sylvia tried to give Maeve a reassuring smile, and kinda succeeded, one side of her mouth twitched upwards. She’d count that as a win. The warmth of the healing magic was too much for Sylvia’s tired mind however, and she slipped into blissful unconsciousness.
***
Sylvia woke up in an unfamiliar room with her limbs feeling like solid stone. She tried to take stock of the room she was in, but to do that she needed to move her head. This was unfortunate for her because the mere thought of moving her head was not a fun one. With a groan of effort she managed to turn her head to the side and saw that she was lying on a bed and now facing a doorway. Ambient sounds that she hadn’t picked up on before were now deafening with their absence. Sylvia strained to hear what could have caused the sounds to stop and in so doing very quickly picked up on the sound of pounding feet approaching the room she was resting in. She had a moment to prepare before the door was slammed open to reveal Maeve with the most wild expression Sylvia had ever seen adorning her face.
The two locked eyes and the amount of relief Sylvia saw in Maeve’s expression was staggering. Tension seemed to melt off of her frame when she saw that Sylvia was awake, she was aware, and she was moving. Well, moving was a bit generous for a head tilt, but Maeve was going to take what victories she could. She walked swiftly into the room, firmly shutting the door behind her and sitting at the edge of the bed next to Sylvia.
“How are you feeling darling?” Maeve gave her a soft smile and gently grabbed her hand.
Sylvia tried to smile back, but it ended up looking more like a pained grimace instead. “Stiff. Sore. Like I just got run over by a buggy but otherwise fine.”
Maeve nodded and the two sat in silence for a long minute before Maeve started rapidly firing off question after question. “Do you need anything? Food? Water? Extra pillows or blankets? I went out and bought your favourite tea. I can go make you a cup if you want?
The blank stare she got for her efforts was truly impressive. Sylvia blinked, then blinked again, and blinked a third time. Her brows furrowed in confusion and she spoke slowly. “I… I would enjoy a cup of tea, yes.” She pauses, tries to cock her head and fails miserably. “Thank you?”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that. Give me a minute.” Maeve bustles out of the room as quickly as she had arrived, leaving Sylvia alone with her thoughts.
Why had Maeve acted so worried about her? It was a conundrum, one she had no idea how to go about solving. Before, Maeve had always made it clear that she wanted to keep that distance between them and not go deeper. She had respected that and instead enjoyed what they did have together. So why was she changing her tune now? Why was she fretting over her?
Her introspection was interrupted by Maeve’s return, a cup of steaming Earl Gray in her hands. Sylvia tried to sit up to grab the tea, and managed a halfway decent slump. She was peeved, and gave the tea cup a disgruntled look.
“Here, let me help.” Sylvia was startled by Maeve’s offer, but cautiously accepted her aid. It was slow, for sure. She had yet to regain full use of her facial muscles, so caution was taken to avoid sustaining any extra injuries. When they were finished, Sylvia gave the other elf a searching look. Maeve avoided her gaze.
“Maeve.” She was speaking slowly, taking the time to deliberately pick her words. “Why are you… hmmm, how do I word this…. mothering me?”
There was an almost imperceptible flinch. “You are still recovering from the effects of the poison, therefore you need help.” Maeve still wasn’t looking her in the eye, instead choosing to fiddle with the empty teacup.
Sylvia rolled her head from side to side in a rough imitation of a head shake. “No, no that's not it. You have never been this sweet and affectionate before. You’ve always made it clear that we were allies and friends with benefits, nothing more, nothing less. What changed?”
She gave Sylvia a disbelieving stare. “What changed? What changed? By the Five, you can be really dense sometimes. What changed, Sylvia, is that I almost watched you fucking DIE!” Her voice had risen steadily as her veneer of calm shattered. By the end she was red faced and yelling, chest heaving with anger. The teacup shattered.
Sylvia was taken aback. She had not been prepared for anger. Disappointment? Maybe, but never in her wildest dreams had she expected anger, and to this degree too. She kept being thrown for loops during this conversation. She was not used to being thrown through loops.
The two stared each other down for a long moment. One’s face a mask of confusion, the other almost shaking with rage. Just like it had arrived, the rage fled and Maeve slumped over, held up by the head board of the bed. Sylvia was struck then by just how tired and worn her friend looked in that instance. She instantly felt guilty, like a worm writhing in her gut.
Maeve let out a deep sigh, hand reaching out to take hold of Sylvia’s unresisting one. “I saw you almost get assassinated in front of my eyes, Sylvia. You were just… lying there, almost unresponsive. I thought you were already dead.” She said this in almost a whisper. Sylvia had to strain to hear her.
The feeling of guilt grew stronger. She squeezed Maeve’s hand, trying to give her some reassurance that she was indeed still alive. “I’m sorry Maeve.”
She squeezed her hand back. “Just.. just don’t ever do that again, alright darling? I don’t think my heart could take it.”
Sylvia laughed, her little raspy chuckle that Maeve so adored. “I’ll try my best dear.”
The two sat in comfortable silence for a long time after that. At some point, Sylvia had pulled Maeve into lying down next to her, their hands never letting go of the other. Sylvia leaned her head against Maeve’s shoulder and just breathed in the scent of coffee and autumn that always seemed to linger in the air around her. She felt Maeve fidget a little beneath her and shuffled a bit so she could look up at her. Maeve was looking down at her with a warm smile, but it was tinged with an undertone of uncertainty.
Maeve took a deep breath. “You know I love you, right?”
Sylvia froze, mind going into overdrive on hearing those words. She stared up at Maeve, face blank with shock. Maeve looked down at her, smile slowly sliding off her face as the silence continued to grow.
“Sylvia?” The silence continued. “I’m sorry if that was too forward but-”
Using all of the energy she had Sylvia surged up to Maeve, lips locking with hers. Maeve’s eyes widened with shock, but then they closed and she deepened the kiss. They lay there together, reveling in the moment and the love they felt for each other.
Sylvia was the one to break the kiss first, face flushed and breathing heavily. “Oh. Oh wow.” She was in a daze. “That was…”
“Yeah..” Maeve looked down, face just as flushed as her partner’s was. After a moment of consideration, she rolled over so she was kneeling over Sylvia’s prone form, hands pressed into the bed on either side of the person beneath her.
She leaned in next to Sylvia’s ear, a wicked smirk adorning her face. “Got another one of those for me darling?” Sylvia dissolved into a stuttering mess at the sultry tone in Maeve’s voice. She nodded once, and they kissed once more.