Chapter Text
The sound of hooves beating against cobblestones rang through the forest, a rhythmic symphony of noise that stirred animals and birds from their nests. Smoke rising above the trees in the distance an ever present beacon, it’s wispy grey tendrils branched out, higher and higher into the sky, steely grey eyes locked onto the smoke, and hooves beat harder as the sound of reins being slapped echoed through the trees.
The horse slowed to a canter as the inn came into view, the light shining through the windows illuminating the forest outside of the stone building. The rider manoeuvred their steed to the stable to the side of the inn, slowing to a stop before dismounting in one smooth motion. The rider took the reins of the animal and led them into the wooden building, walking down past some occupied spots, before opening a gate into an empty stall, checking it had substantial hay and water and removing a saddle bag from the horse.
“Here boy, shh, shh.” The rider cooed as they reached into the bag and retrieved an apple, holding it to the horses mouth, which it devoured gratefully.
A gloved hand stroked a jet black mane, before resting against the horses’ strong neck.
“I’ll see you tomorrow boy.” The horse whinnied seemingly in response before nuzzling the rider, who moved out of the stall, fastening the gate as they went.
Snow was beginning to fall now, small snowflakes coming down infrequently, melting almost as soon as they hit the ground: confessions never spoken, words dying in throats. A warning of the winter that was to come.
The rider moved towards the inn. Spurs clicking with every step. The long cloak and hood that the rider wore shielded them from the worst of the cold, a veil concealing them from the outside world, repelling not only weather, but eyes that wished to look upon them. Despite this, the unmistakable sway and sight of a scabbard on their left hip protruded from the cloak, wanting to be seen. A warning, a challenge.
The door was pushed open with a whoosh, a cool breeze filling the room, causing the man at the desk to look up. The door closed with a quiet click, as the sound of spurs rang in the room, moving towards the desk.
The mans face took on a friendly smile. “Good Evening, welcome to the Bee and Bard. How can I help?”
“A room for the night? And I put my horse up in your stable.”
The Innkeeper nodded, glancing down briefly to the papers on the desk infront of him. “Not a problem, our standard room and stable housing is 4 gold coins.”
The rider reached into the bag slung around their shoulder, before a glove hand re-emerged holding a brown pouch, they placed the bag onto the counter, the unmistakable sound of coins jingling within as they did so.
The innkeeper reached over and took the bag, pulling the strings apart to reach into it. He pulled out a fistful of gold coins, perplexed, he looked back at the hooded visitor.
“Can you have some water and cloths brought to the room. I also wouldn’t mind a warm meal.”
He shook his head, holding the coins out towards them. “This is still far too much, I don-“
The stranger reached up and pulled their hood down, red hair broke free of its confines and fell in-front of the riders face, obscuring it slightly, but not enough.
“After that I don’t wish to be bothered, I trust that is enough to secure your discretion?” Their eyes flicked to the bag of coins on the counter.
The man nodded. “Absolutely, I’ll get someone on it immediately. And, thank you.”
He reached behind him, taking a key from a shelf that housed a dozen cubby holes, telling the visitor they had room 208, the top floor, at the very back of the hall, informed them someone would be by with their food and supplies shortly, before bidding them a good night.
The rider nodded, took the key, and made their way to the room, reaching the door before unlocking it and slipping inside. They took off their cloak, draping it over a chair, before moving further into the room. The sound of a match being struck echoed through the space before it was bathed in light. The chamber had decent amenities, the visitor looked around the room, nodding to themselves, the basics were all that were required, and the bed looked good enough. The sound of buckles being unclipped, and straps undone began and continued for a few minutes until there was a tidy pile of lightweight armour piled in a corner: leather bracers, a chest plate and greaves were meticulously laid out, no doubt ready to be re-donned the next morning.
Before anything else could be done, there was a knock at the door. The occupant of the room moved slowly towards it, taking note of the shape of the shadow that blocked the light from the hallway. One pair of legs. They opened the door slowly, a grey eye narrowed around the corner of the door, before it opened fully after seeing a young woman holding a tray carrying a bowl of soup, some rags, and a bowl of water.
“Come in.”
The girl looked nervous as she stepped into the threshold, gingerly placing the tray onto the desk, her quick glance towards the armour placed in the corner not missed by the occupant. The girl turned to face the stranger.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
She held her arms behind her back. Gaze affixed to the floor. Steel eyes looked her up and down, and she shifted under the scrutiny, heat pooling in her body.
“No. Thank you.”
The girls shoulders seemed to sag at that, but she hid whatever feelings she had, and brought her eyes up to look at the source of the voice. She nodded once before moving to leave the room, grey eyes watched her as she went, she hesitated at the door, before closing it behind her.
After the door was locked and soup was eaten, the figure sat on the edge of the bed, a sheathed sword laid across their knees, hushed words were uttered as the sword was released from its sheath, a sweet sound ringing through the air as the weapon was freed. The figure took a cloth, dipped it in water, before running it along the side of the blade, movements slow and practiced, the cloth was dipped again, water running crimson now, as the cloth was passed along the edge again and again, until the water was a deep red, almost black. A second rag was taken, drying off the blade, before it was returned back to it’s sheath, a deep exhale accompanying the action.
The figure moved to the bed, pulling back the sheets before settling in, they laid on their back with their eyes locked on the ceiling, until the light from the lantern withered out, plunging the room into darkness, their hand fell to a ring on their finger, twirling it subconsciously. Flashes of blue eyes and blood stained hands haunted their dreams. Sleep was hard to come by.