Side story: of Rook and Aofie

“I can’t believe I’m wearing a dress,” Aofie complained for what had to be the tenth or eleventh time.

“Appearances are everything, my queen.  Besides, you look lovely in that gown.  Of course, you won’t attract many gentlemen with that scowl... do try to be cheery at any rate. This is a grand ball, not a funeral!” her companion chatted amiably beside her.

“I’d be cheery if I was at your funeral, Rook,” she muttered, still annoyed that Rook was having so much fun with the alias their guild had given her.  She had grown up on the streets, living out of other’s pockets, and yet they dubbed her ‘Queen’.  She suspected the names were themed, but did not care enough to ask.

“What’s that my dear?  I’m afraid you must learn to speak up; it is unladylike to mumble,” the so called Rook exclaimed with disdain.

“I said... oh never mind,” she grabbed Rook by the shoulder and pulled him close so she could whisper harshly into his ear.  “Are you sure this will work?  I don’t like this setting... or this dress.  We’d have to be stupid to kill someone here.”

“Hopefully, that’s what everyone else is thinking too,” Rook agreed.

“What is with this guy we’re trying to kill so badly anyway?  Why can’t we wait for him to be in a less crowded area?”

“Why not, indeed?  Why not wait till later?  Perhaps there will be better opportunities, less witnesses, less risks.  But... then it wouldn’t be nearly as fun,” Rook broke out into a sadistic smile.  “Besides, I love a good dance party, don’t you?  Now come, it will never do for us to arrive more than a little fashionably late.”

The two stood just on the outskirts of a mansion on the richest side of town.  Carriages carrying well attired nobles drifted past them on the streets, and they could just see them at the edge of sight, getting out at the doorway of the mansion and being escorted inside.

“I never did like front entrances.  If your name has to be announced for people to notice you are in the room, you obviously aren’t doing anything right.  Come.  We go through the back,” Rook said, taking Aofie’s arm and starting to wander down the lane that would take them to the back of the mansion and the servant’s entrance.

“There will be guards back there to make sure only servants are entering and exiting.  Our target is fairly high up on the social hierarchy so we can expect two to five guards on the back lawn.  Any more would look gaudy.  They will be well trained and adept at street brawls, and relatively alert for strangers.  Obviously a straightforward approach won’t work,” Rook spoke as they walked.  “Four or more will be risky:  it isn’t a question of if we can kill them, but if we can do it without making noise.  There is no cover to speak of, just a wide open lawn where they will see us coming from 30 feet away.”

“So one of us will have to bait them, while the other will take out the furthest ones and work her way forward,” Aofie reasoned.  “We can’t give any of them time to scream.”

“Correct, my queen.  Now then, I think you should begin our little escapade.  Your charming form would draw any man’s attention far easier than I ever could.”

“That obnoxious hat might draw their attention just fine,” Aofie retorted.  “Besides, what if one of the guards is a female?”

“Then I shall woo her away from her post, and if she is as beautiful and more dignified than you, perhaps she will be my companion for the dance tonight.”

“You sicken me.”

“I suppose I could always spare her life, then pick her up on our way out; I know of a wonderful tavern.”

“I don’t want to know about your twisted fantasies.”

“And then maybe you could come by later, in your lovely dress.”

“And maybe I’d shove a dagger down your throat.”

Rook laughed lightly and let it drop.  “We are near.  Time to split up.”

“Go on then, oh great and colorful Rook.  I’ll stay back here and sneak up after I hear you start talking.”

“Please, my dear queen.  Ladies first.”

Aofie grumbled, but sensing a lost cause conceded the point and started walking toward the mansion.  The life of an orphan on violent streets had taught her how to blend in, but her more recent experiences had taught her she could stand out when she wished to, especially with her unpractical, but flattering dress.

She got within sight of the guards and counted four of them all bunched together, having a conversation near the door.  They must not be taking the guard duty too seriously or they would be spread out more professionally.  They stopped their talk as she drew close.  She noted they were all indeed men.  With sharp pointy spears.  She resolved not to find out how much damage they could do plunging one of those things into her soft, unarmored body.

“Excuse me,” she started in her best innocent little girl voice, making it a point to sway flirtatiously to capture their full attention.  “Could one of you strong men please escort me inside?  My father left me to talk to some duke, and I’m scared being out here alone at night.”

“It’s all right, milady.  You can’t come in here, but I’ll take you to the front.  Never can be too careful,” one of the soldiers began, relaxing.  Aofie grabbed his arm excitedly, smiling giddily at the guard.

“Wait, we’re being paid to stay back here,” said the fat one next to him, jealousy obvious in his features.

“I’ll be right back,” the first guard said.

“I think I had better go with the lady,” a guard with a scar on his cheek said.  “I don’t want you hitting on her all night when you’re supposed to be here.”

“C’mon, I won’t do nothin’.  I just want a break.”

“Yeah, well me too,” said the scarred man.  “C’mon miss, follow me.  It’s alright, I won’t make a move on you, I’m married.”

“It don’t matter, we’re supposed to stay here!” the fat one said, clearly wanting to escort the beautiful lady himself.

Aofie caught sight of Rook sneaking up behind the four, three of them seemed well distracted with their argument, but the fourth...  well I’ll be a courtly maiden if he isn’t still looking out for trouble like he’s supposed to, she thought to herself.  If he turned his head any more he might see...  She had to distract him as well.

“It’s all right good sirs, I think I can manage myself after all.  Oh!”  She feigned slipping in the grass as she started to turn, and stumbled toward the diligent sentry.

He turned toward her, dropping his spear to catch her, which was about the best reaction she could have hoped for.  Reaching into the folds of her dress she pulled out her hidden dagger, still stumbling purposefully into the guard.  He caught the woman in his arms, and the dagger in his throat, with a sickening gurgle.

The other three didn’t realize what was happening before Rook got up behind, and stabbed two of them in the back of the neck simultaneously, a dagger in each hand.  Then quickly withdrawing the blades, he smashed the fat man’s skull between the two dagger’s pommels.

Surveying their handiwork, Rook nodded.  “That will do.  Let’s get these bodies hidden and make our way inside.  The night is still young, and we have at least one more piece on the board to kill,” he wiped off his daggers on the fat corpse’s cloak, then slipped his weapons back into their concealed slots in his jacket, appearing once again to be an unarmed, helpless noble with questionable taste in clothes.

Aofie looked at Rook quizzically, feeling slightly ill from the smell of blood and death mingling with the scent of a summer night.  “Rook... do you actually enjoy this sort of thing?”

Rook looked puzzled.  “If you’re going to play the game you should have fun with it, don’t you think?  That is the whole point.”

“This isn’t a game, Rook.”

“That’s what the playing pieces say.  But the player knows better.”

She suddenly felt very tired of talking, and she knew it was futile to argue.  “Let’s just get this over with,” she said as she wiped off her blade on the grass and slid it back into her dress’s folds.  She knew they did what they had to, but killing never sat well with her stomach.  Kind of like eating meat that had sat out too long, she mused to herself.

“As you wish,” Rook said with a tip of his hat.

Between the two of them, they pulled the four bodies inside, and hid them, somewhat ironically, in the guard’s tent where they would have rested and had some ale once their shifts were over.  “They did sound like they wanted a break,” Rook commented mildly as he unceremoniously dumped the man with a scar on the floor.  Inexplicably, the remark the dead guard made about being married jumped into Aofie’s mind.  She wondered if his wife had loved him.

“Whoever heard of a fat guard anyway?” Rook complained as he and his partner struggled to move the plump corpse inside.  Aofie thought his remarks were in bad taste, but she remained silent.  I suppose even his conscience got annoyed and left him at some point.  She thought about her partner, then chided herself for such thoughts.  After all, where was her conscious in all this?  Left for dead along with her family, most likely.   She didn’t write the rules of this world after all, and like Rook always said, she was just playing the game.

“I hope I didn’t get any blood on my jacket.  That one you killed was quite the bleeder,” Rook commented as he used the key he found on one of the men to open the lock and let them inside.

“I killed the man, slit his bloody throat, and you’re worried about if you got a stain on your clothes?” Aofie shot out before she could restrain herself.

“Well, yes.  I certainly can’t expect him to pay for damages since he’s dead, and you certainly aren’t compassionate about my wardrobe.  This is an expensive jacket, and blood stains rarely come out completely.”  Rook said calmly after a short pause.  “Perhaps we should talk a bit before continuing.  You seem even more worked up than usual.”

“Never mind...  I’m just feeling... a little off tonight,” she shook her head, trying to shake her feelings away with the motion.  She was familiar with killing to survive, her life had not been an easy one, but killing to earn money for surviving- that seemed to blur the moral line.  Deception and nimble hands was one thing, but murder was not something she was willing to take as lightly as her partner.

“All seriousness all the time will do that to you,” Rook said as he led the way through the dimly lit corridors.  They heard the noise of conversation and the sound of music echoing eerily down the halls, and used the sound to lead them to the ballroom.  Rook tipped his hat to a servant heading down the same hallway, carrying a platter of cheese and bread.  The servant looked confused to why guests were walking through the back way to get to the party, but before he could think of asking, Rook breezed by him as if he owned the place, dragging Aofie along by the arm.

As they entered the ballroom, a light melodic waltz started playing, as if cued by their entrance.  In the center, more than a few couples began to dot the dance floor at regular intervals, making use of the tune.

“Care to dance, my queen?” Rook asked, in a surprisingly suave manner, taking off his feathered hat and offering a smooth bow with flourish to his partner.

“Rook... I really don’t think this is the time for that.  We have a... things to do, remember?”

“That settles it.  You are deeply disturbed.  No lady in her right mind refuses a man offering her a dance.  Particularly when it is a gentleman making the offer.”

“I hardly think you qualify as a gentleman,” Aofie countered.

“My queen!  You wound me with your accusation.  Now by my status as a gentleman alone, I must correct you,” and with that, he grabbed her hand and began to drag her forcibly to the dance floor.

“Rook!” she protested sharply, resisting his pull, “dragging me onto the dance floor is hardly gentlemanly behavior!”

“And resisting so violently is hardly ladylike,” he pointed out, still tugging on her arm even as she tried to break his hand.  “Still, I suppose you are correct, and I must further endeavor to sweep you off your feet!” and with that, he suddenly stopped pulling.

Aofie, surprised by the sudden lack of resistance, lost her balance and started to fall backwards.  Rook, still holding her arm securely though applying no effort to it, pivoted quickly around behind her.  Aofie had almost regained her balance before she found herself suddenly swept up in Rook’s arms in a tremendously romantic fashion.

“Since you do no deign to walk, my queen, I must carry you to the dance floor,” Rook said with only the slightest hint of effort in his voice.

“Put me down.  Now,” she said, her tone demanding his obedience.  She tried to keep her demeanor cool, but felt her face flush.

“But my queen!  I am quite enjoying myself now.  In fact I consider myself the most fortunate of men to be carrying you.  To think, I would have been satisfied simply escorting you by the arm.  This is much more pleasurable for us both, I am sure.”

“Rook!” she hissed at him, not believing his gall.  She wanted to rip his throat out, but at the same time she felt herself unable to do anything but let him carry her.  She cursed herself silently for her weakness, and cursed him for putting her into this awkward situation.  Weren’t they supposed to be killing someone?  She was in the completely wrong mindset for handling something like this!  Not that she was ever very prepared for Rook’s sporadic advances, she was forced to admit to herself.

“See?  There is hope for us yet.  You are learning to trust my lead, and I am learning you have beautiful smooth skin,” Rook commented, idly rubbing his hand against her sleeveless arm.

She was going to kill him.  Leave him slaughtered on the floor in front of all these people, then walk out.  She grabbed at his throat with both hands, but was startled out of her murderous rage when Rook easily put her down on her feet, and grabbing her outstretched arms, pulled her into a flawless waltz position.

“What are you...?” she meant to scream but ended up stopping with a yelp, as he stepped on her foot.

“I am attempting to dance with you, fair lady, but you do not seem to know the correct stepping technique of a waltz.” Rook said innocently.

“You...” Aofie laughed at the insanity of it all, and resigned herself to her fate.  “You’re right; I don’t know anything about dancing.  You’re going to show me, I assume?”

“Naturally, just as any gentleman would,” Rook said airily.  “Just follow my lead and move to the tempo, this is a very simple three step pattern....” he continued to explain the dance as they circled about, Aofie feeling uncharacteristically stiff and klutzy at first, but gradually began to catch on to the steps.  Soon Rook and Aofie were dancing circles around the floor with no break in step, Rook gliding effortlessly while she slid into step, still awkward, but at least deliberate.

“You are well dressed, and you are learning dance.  We shall make a lady of you yet, my queen,”

“Just what I always wanted,” she said sarcastically, but there was a chuckle lurking in her words.  “I don’t understand though; where did you learn how to dance like this?  Surely they don’t teach ballroom manners in back alleyways and taverns.”

Rook eyed her strangely, with a look of something like scorn, “Do you think I have lived my whole life picking other’s pockets?  Not all of us have cards set against us from the start.  Some lose it all in a bad hand fate deals, later in the game.”  He danced silently for a moment, as if waiting for her to ask him something, or maybe just lost in thought.  Then his features brightened, and he looked up at her eagerly.  “But, what can you do but try for another hand?  The cards always get better eventually, as long as the player keeps a cool head.”

“I... I suppose that’s true,” Aofie said, startled that she had touched upon such an apparently deep subject with this crazy rogue.  “But what if the cards never get better, and you lose everything?”

“Then you play by your own rules and win it all back,” Rook said with a smile, seemingly back to his usual carefree self.  “Now speaking of, what seems to be troubling you, my dear queen?  Attack of the conscience?  Wanting to amend your ways, and live peacefully and legally, albeit miserably, in your poverty, never knowing the sweet tastes of nobility, nor having the riches that rightfully belong to one as skilled and hardworking as you?”

“I don’t care about wealth, I’m not vain and ambitious like you.  I just want to get by.  I just want my part of the world, you know?  I don’t want to stand out, or take power, I can be ignored all my life if they want- I just want something!” Aofie found herself close to tears, but she did not know why.  She knew she was rambling, but could not hold back her words.  Rook nodded somberly for her to continue.

“Look at all this expensive junk lying around in here!  It makes me sick!  I have to live off other’s trash when there’s all this wealth seething from bloated nobles like this!  What do they need a purse for; they have ten more at home.  But I... who am I to take their lives like this?  They always have more gold, but we take the only lives they have, Rook!  We can’t take that from them...” the song ended, and the dancers stopped, and Aofie, knowing her voice was audible to others without the background music, stopped too.  She felt like screaming, but knew she could not.  She felt like crying, but did not want him to see her tears.  So Aofie did the only thing left to her.  She clung to Rook tightly, burying her face in Rook’s soft silk shirt.

That is why appearances are everything.  She was a penniless beggar, turned thief, turned reluctant assassin.  Rook was an enigma, a gentleman, a cold killer, her momentary comfort.  The two were only temporary allies, thrown together by a mutual desire to survive.  But what the bystanders saw, looking at the two, were two wealthy lovers, embracing close after a moving dance.

***
A year later Aofie reflected on that very night, seemingly not so long ago.  Her impromptu dance lesson had come in handy after all.  They had killed their mark, Aofie getting close and offering to dance with the target.  They moved across the floor until Rook wandered inconspicuously by, plunging two daggers into the target's back as he danced.  She released him, left him standing there trying to speak and move as his life blood drained from him and darkened his already crimson cloak.  As she moved purposely towards the door, Rook started screaming about someone attacking the Marquis.  The guards all converged onto the faltering man, not knowing their Marquis was beyond saving, the killer was admitting his deed, or that his accomplice was already outside the building.  Oddly enough, Aofie still had no idea why they had killed the man.  Maybe some things were best left alone.

Rook joined her sometime later at their prearranged meeting place, tipped his hat to her, and grasped her hand with both of his.

“Thank you for the exquisite dance, my queen.  Till next time.” and walked away, leaving a bag of gold in her outstretched hand.  Ever since then, Rook had dropped by every so often, always unexpected, always with a heist or job planned.  Sometimes she would oblige, sometimes she would refuse, either way Rook would always be back later working with her again.  She knew not what she felt for the man, except that he was her best chance for survival, the only one to ask for her talents and help.  No one else asked her for anything; no one else cared at all.  She knew Rook survived by not trusting anyone, she did not humor herself by pretending he felt differently towards her.  Still, she knew that despite herself, she trusted Rook, was probably the only one stupid enough to.  After all, he was by his own admission, “openly deceptive”.  The dance they shared that night, and the words he said revealed to her a gentler soul, someone who was scarred and feigning indifference.  Perhaps the arrogant rouge was not as confident as he pretended.  Aofie knew Rook would laugh and mock her for those accusations, but she believed in them all the same.  If he ever needed someone to confide in, if he had to have someone to trust, she would be there.  Otherwise, well, they were good partners.  Aofie could watch his back.