Work Text:
Once she finished contemplating her reflection in the mirror, the new leader of The Assassins' Guild was ready to face her final test. She traced the edge of the dagger with her finger to feel its sharpness—the assassins closest companion.
Ever since the funeral, she has known that she has lost one of the last connections of a life she has never lived. Although she has a better word for that event, the one that was stripped away from her.
What that woman, Rogue, took away from her completely.
She grips the dagger’s hilt tightly as she recalls the source of her bitterness. She was the reason she couldn’t be completely saddened by her father’s death.
Even though the last few months they spent together-since she woke up with no memory-were good, uncomfortable voids always crept in because they lacked those precious moments that made her, in his eyes, his daughter.
Her assassins instincts never left her; they were years of skill etched into her blood. She sheathed her weapon and squeezed her eyelids shut, trying to recall a moment with her family. Every attempt to remember was always in vain.
So many of those moments were precious, and she knew it from the way everyone talked about them. Every time nostalgia crept into her family’s tone, especially her father’s voice. Which instantly he regretted mentioning the brother she’d never known.
Perhaps the effort would pay off someday, opening her eyes to the lack of a response from her mind . The reflection of her blue eyes stared back at her with something that could only be described as pure hatred.
Rogue. Rogue. Rogue
That mutant, in addition to taking her life, had stolen the thief to whom-as her father had confessed-she had once been married. The irony was painful for her.
After considering Candra’s offer of revenge, she walked straight over to the nightstand next to her bed. Opening the top drawer, she found the photo frame face down and she picked it up.
Her mouth twisted into a grimace at the sight of the two of them as teenagers; deep down, she longed to get to know that man, and at the same time, she wanted to settle the score with him for having abandoned her so easily.
Remy LeBeau was her first love, she had been told; according to several members of her guild, one of the greatest regrets of her life.
Now she knew nothing about the man who had been her first love, friend, and husband. She only felt anger every time whenever his name was mentioned or her eyes fell on the photograph.
He’d decided to leave her without even having the decency to tell her what he’d meant to her. Not even when she’d woken up in his arms; she was convinced he was happy the moment he got rid of her to run off with his little mutie friend Rogue.
And the worst part was that Rogue really was a beauty: with flaming auburn hair, ivory skin and eyes of emerald green, she was almost incomparable to other women. A true Southern beauty who took everything she had with her- even her happiness.
As she flung the picture frame into the drawer with contempt, she knew she had to take personal revenge on the person who had hurt her so badly. And she would succeed: Rogue was going to suffer just as much as she had made her suffer.
She was now the leader of her guild and had enough confidence in her abilities to know she would succeed as soon as she began her revenge.
If the mutant felt so comfortable destroying other people’s memories, she would teach her the pain she had caused her from now on.