[M] The Knife That Cuts the Deepest [BurningKirby & Ashen]

[Ashen]

Anne grew more painfully aware of Ophelia's expression with each step towards the noble lady's home. She was overthinking something, perhaps second-guessing why she'd brought this stranger into her house again. The silence pierced every footstep, shattering in her ears. Anne had to relax. Whatever Ophelia was thinking, Anne had to convince herself things would work out in the end. They always did.

It wasn't long before they were back at Ophelia's home. Once inside, Anne set the child upon the floor and watched as he began to crawl around. His mother was searching for something, unused to entertaining a guest, evidently. Anne smiled warmly at her, trying to make her feel more at ease. She unbuckled her belt and set her small sword by her bag. "Well, I bought a small whittling knife," she suggested, "if you would like to learn that craft. I also picked up a scroll, a short one, to read to Milo--perhaps a bedtime story? For now, what's say we bake something nice. Would that be fitting?"

For what it was worth, Anne also did not know how to entertain a guest. She didn't work much with people--rather, she didn't work long with people before they became bodies and bounties. The change of pace was strange, but nice in its way. Ophelia was a sweet girl, and maybe by the time Anne was done with her she'd have more a backbone and less a submissive outlook on the world.

Anne moved towards the kitchen, making herself at home but remaining aware of Ophelia's reactions to her movements. She didn't want to impose, but she also didn't want to stand around doing nothing, giving Ophelia a chance to doubt all her decisions this far. "Rolf should like to come home to something fresh, yes? We could bake something new, a new recipe, and make a whole new batch by the time Rolf gets home. What would be better than coming home to freshly baked bread?" She looked around the kitchen, grasping at straws. Baking would at least distract them long enough to get them to nighttime, and then, Anne could figure out their plans for tomorrow. She needed to buy time, plot her moves; she hoped, in the future, she would laugh at this. Such amateurish work, she thought, but how could she concentrate with stakes so high?

[BurningKirby]

Anne's proposal was intriguing. Ophelia had some experience baking, and while it wasn't exactly her choice activity, it would certainly help pass the time. And she was right, Rolf couldn't exactly be upset at fresh bread. Though... it would be a while before he returned, if what Anne had said earlier was correct. Strange that she seemed so eager to bake right this moment, considering...

"That does sound lovely." Ophelia lightly smiled, "Though, I would imagine if we wanted him to come home to fresh bread, we'd bake it in a few days, yes? Otherwise we'd risk it getting a little stale. In the meantime, though, I'd be happy to practice this new recipe you speak of. Will it take long?"

The wife set about gathering together the ingredients and tools she knew she would need, regardless of the type of bread they were going to bake, as she listened for Anne's reply. She set yeast, flour, and a few bowls for mixing on the table, then looked to the woman for further instruction. "What else does this recipe require? We have a decent selection of ingredients here, but if we're missing something it might be possible to catch some of the shops before they close for the night."

[Ashen]

Ophelia seemed unsure of this, as if baking bread was a ploy against her life, and Anne again scolded herself for not being careful. She was acting like she had in her first days as an assassin, a bumbling mess, a klutz with all of her now perfected skills. She couldn't understand; why was she acting so obvious? Her life was on the line, and she was painfully aware that each misstep could mean another droplet of blood racing towards her breasts. She glanced to Ophelia, to the dainty woman standing awkwardly before her own stove, wondering what it was like to be so carefree.

"We are testing the recipe," Anne replied, already moving towards the ingredients Ophelia had laid out. "If it is any good, we can make it again for your husband when he returns." Maybe with some poison, she thought, a new idea taking form. That would be too easy, wouldn't it? She might kill Ophelia in the process; the docile thing would of course want to share bread with her spouse. Anne would have to cut her losses, but somehow, that didn't feel right to her. In all of this, she at least wanted to spare the frazzled mother and innocent wife. She'd find a way.

Anne took inventory of the things Ophelia gathered, and she suggested a few more things that Ophelia got. Anne was a traveled woman, so while she had little experience baking, she'd tasted foods from all over. She suggested making a kind of bread she'd had once, far from here, a rich thing with berries baked into it. Once decided, Anne quickly ran back to the market to locate some berries. She returned with elderberries, not her first choice, and began detailing her recipe for Ophelia.

Some time later, they were pulling the baked bread from the open flames of the stove. It was darker than Anne remembered, but it smelled delicious, and her mouth watered as the aroma flooded the room. Even Milo seemed intrigued by the newly-made treat. "After it cools," Anne cooed softly, prompting the child to return to what he'd been doing. Setting the bread on the table, Anne motioned towards it. "Well," she mumbled, "how does it look?" For someone who had not baked in a long time, she was surprised at how well it turned out. After a few minutes, her hunger dismissed her caution, and she sliced into the bread. She handed a piece to Ophelia first, and she waited for her to take the first bite. If it had turned out okay, Anne wondered if maybe, just maybe, Ophelia would begin feeling more at ease around her.

[BurningKirby]

As Ophelia let her teeth sink into the warm bread she realized just how long it had been since she'd had any beyond that which she'd bought at the market. There was the advantage of convenience when it came to outright purchasing it, but it never quite made up for the fresh warmth and satisfaction at having done it herself. She couldn't help but let a smile creep into her lips as she savored the rich flavor of the deposits of berries scattered amidst the fluffy crumb.

"Oh, that's lovely." She grinned at Anne. "Though..." She paused upon detecting some strange lingering bitter taste among the tart. "Perhaps we should take it out sooner next time. It may be a tad overdone. Ah, well, it's wonderful regardless. I'd happily serve this to Rolf when he returns."

Ophelia glanced out the window and, noticing how dark it had become outside, set about cleaning up the kitchen area. As she worked, she spoke to Anne. "This was nice. Thank you for pushing me to give it a try. I hope I didn't get in the way too much as we prepared everything. I've been told I tend to do that." At this she trailed off slightly, getting lost in thought for a moment before pulling herself back. We've had enough getting lost in thought for one day, she scolded herself.

The baking tools all cleaned and away, she plopped herself into one of the dining room chairs and looked to Anne. "Well, it looks to be a bit late out there. Maybe we should begin to prepare for bed? At least for Milo, anyway. He does need his rest." She glanced over at the small boy who at this point was passed out on the floor with his mouth open, a small pool of drool spreading outward from his cheek. "I don't mind staying up a little longer myself if you would like. I suppose we'll also have to figure out sleeping arrangements, now that I think of it. For now, let's just get Milo in bed." She stood up, padded over to the child and scooped him up into her arms, taking just a moment to wipe up the small puddle he left behind with a cloth. Ophelia looked to Anne in silent invitation to come along if she so chose.

[Ashen]

There was a satisfaction, or perhaps a validation, that came as soon as Ophelia swallowed the first bite of the bread they had made together. It was maybe a bit too hard, a bit too dark, but Ophelia liked it. A smile slipped onto Anne's lips. Had she ever felt such a thrill from making something for someone else? In fact, when was the last thing she'd even done anything for anyone but herself? The contract in her bag, the parchment asking for the assassination of an innocent man; Anne had only taken on such a job to save herself. When had she gotten to be so selfish?

She shook her thoughts, and with them the frown that had appeared on her face. She noticed Ophelia already moving to start clearing away dishes and extra ingredients, so she did her part to help clean up. At Ophelia's words, Anne paused and mulled them over. "You didn't get in the way," she answered softly. Though she wondered why Ophelia would say such a thing. Who had convinced this woman that she was taking up more space than she was allowed? Anne's eyes absently trailed to Ophelia's neck, her wrists. Had it been her husband? With no visible scars or bruises to speak of, Anne had to wonder how their dynamic worked. Perhaps Rolf wasn't the goodly man she'd thought him to be.

As Ophelia gathered her child to put him to bed, Anne hesitated. "Hold, now," she mumbled, wondering herself what she was doing. "Ophelia, ma'am, answer me first. How in the way do you think you are? How inconvenienced do you think other people are to hear you speak or watch you fret over the quality of your raw foods?" She took the baby from her and balanced him awkwardly on one hip. "Put out your arms," she said, using her free arm to demonstrate. "This entire space around your body? You are allowed to occupy that and so much more. I don't know who convinced you otherwise, but you are wrong. You are not an inconvenience to me. Whoever finds you as so does not deserve you in their lives." Perhaps it was something about the rushed way she spoke, the rushed apologies, the obliviousness to her own predicament. Anne didn't know why, but she wanted to help Ophelia, to show her her own worth. Maybe it was stupid, a pointless task, but maybe this was finally a chance to do something for someone else.

Pink flushed her cheeks as she realized how out of turn she was. She motioned Milo towards his mother. "It is not my place to say," she said quietly, as if not wanting to offend her hostess, "but I don't like the way you talk of yourself. You deserve the confidence I'm sure your husband has. Don't apologize for your existence." Arms now freed, she awkwardly scratched at her elbow, wondering if her words meant anything at all. Ophelia reminded her a lot of her sister, of a defenseless doe, of someone who needed things done for her because she wasn't sure enough of herself to do anything alone. It was the curse a lot of women fell under, a curse Anne was determined to break in herself, and perhaps in the woman she would soon widow.

"I apologize," she mumbled again, shaking her head. "Don't mind me. We ought to get Milo to bed, you're right. Do you read stories to him at night? Or perhaps you sing to him? If you'd prefer I help him to sleep, I can do that for you."

[BurningKirby]

Anne's sudden burst of inspirational dialogue shocked Ophelia. She stood quite still as the kind words laid gently upon her like dew on a spider's threads. She felt undeserving. This was all too much. She was unaccustomed to the appreciation Anne's words showed. She wasn't meant to feel this way. Even when her child was pulled from her arms between the jolting phrases, she barely even noticed, letting her limbs float down softly to her sides.

And just like that it was over. Anne seemed to regain her quiet composure and even looked a little embarrassed as she offered Milo back to Ophelia. Still quiet and still pondering the words, Ophelia let the child be returned to her embrace but continued to stand motionless, a light fog over her gaze. She had clearly offended Anne with her behavior. A small mental note was made to ensure it wouldn't happen again. She had no doubt the girl was right. But it just wasn't that easy. This was who she was. An overly apologetic nuisance of a wife. Now even her apologies themselves were getting on people's nerves. She felt pathetic.

But she had to keep the woman as happy as she could. She heaved a soft "Thank you." and let her lips build the framework of a smile before gesturing to Anne to follow her to where Milo would sleep. "Oh, don't you worry, it's no trouble, really, I just have to set him into his bed and that'll be all."

* * *

"I suppose we ought to figure out sleeping arrangements," Ophelia said, now that the two had returned downstairs after putting Milo to bed. "I'm afraid we don't take in guests very often at all, so we don't have a room set for you. I'd be happy to lend you my bed for the night, however. It'd really be no trouble at all. Oh, and I don't mean we must sleep right away if you'd prefer to stay up and chat awhile." She smiled lightly as she made the offer. She didn't expect Anne to take it, but it felt right to offer it regardless. Ophelia tried to hold her gaze to the girl's as she awaited her reply.

[Ashen]

There was an unease in Ophelia's limbs, a discomfort in her gaze, that left Anne harshly scolding herself. She'd known she was out of turn, yet she spoke anyway. Why? What purpose did her aimless rambling serve? She could not afford to keep tripping up like this. As the two put Milo to bed, Anne wondered if it would be easier to leave, to find some other bounty, some other family to ruin. She did not have the time. A lump swelling in her throat, Anne tried to dismiss her thoughts, to correct her transgressions, and to keep going.

With the child put to sleep, the two women were alone. Ophelia started on about sleeping arrangements, and Anne shook her head adamantly. "I could never take your bed from you," she replied, shocked that the woman would even suggest a thing. What kind of cottons did Ophelia sleep on? To so thoughtlessly offer them to someone so lowly... Anne shook her head. "I do not mind taking a chair, or the floor, if you have a spare blanket. I don't want to be a bother at all. Remember, I am here to help you." She surveyed the chairs in the room, the soft wood, the shaped metals. Anne was used to worse, and she appreciated the warmth she'd have that night.

Anne was adamant. She was not going to let herself be an inconvenience to Ophelia, not when she was on such thin ice already. A chair and blanket would do her fine, if she managed to sleep much. The two didn't immediately go to sleep; their mindless chatter filled the otherwise empty house. Anne was overcautious, remaining safe in her words and not daring to step out of line again. She hoped such conversation would help Ophelia warm up to her more, but after all the ways she'd already messed up, she had no idea where she stood.

When Ophelia retired to her bedroom, Anne got comfortable in a chair and tugged at the blanket she had been given. She poked through her bag, rummaging through old writings, weapons, cloths, tools. Her whole life was contained in a single bag, and here she was resting in the house of nobles. She tried not to think of it all, think of the way she would ruin this family, the way she needed the money from this to ensure her life in the coming weeks. Anne wondered about another family, about the faces of those she'd left behind.What would they think of her now?

Unable to sleep, Anne would end up going for a walk through the town. She studied the layout of the town again, observed the people. She wasn't gone long, and she returned without a sound. Collapsing onto her chair again, she wondered just what she was getting herself into with all this. She was a seasoned assassin, kills meant nothing more than coin to her anymore, but why did this one feel so different?

[BurningKirby]

Ophelia lay in her bed for a while, turning over the events of the day in her head. In retrospect, it all seemed so crazy. So many things had happened and she had let herself get caught up in their whirlwind. Now that it was over, she couldn't help but feel a bit disoriented. In an attempt to get her bearings, she went back over it all.

She had let a woman she didn't know in the slightest into her home after learning her husband would be away. Then they had gone out to the square where Ophelia had fallen into a trance at the sight of some blade. If only she could bury the embarrassment of that away forever, but she knew too well that moment would return to scrape through her head time and time again. Afterwards, they had retreated to the tree's shade where they had eaten and Anne gave her her first lesson in swordplay. That, at least, had been exciting in a good way. Ophelia looked forward to more. Hopefully, anyway. Then they had gone home of course, where the combat lesson had continued, this time with their palms as the weapons of choice and dough in need of kneading their mortal enemy.

In the end, she couldn't make sense of how this had all come to happen in a single day. Even this morning felt as though it had come to pass years ago. But more mental turmoil wouldn't help a thing, so she did her best to cast it all out and try to get some sleep. Sleep, being one of the few things that came easy to her, wrapped its warm body about her and fought off all that made to disturb her with cavernous bark and razor-like fangs.

Each of the next few days was just as much a whirlwind as the last, but as Ophelia spent more time with Anne, she slowly found the ground. The girl still struck her as quite strange, but with her husband away, she greatly appreciated the company she provided. In fact, she began to look forward more and more to their conversations, though she often found she didn't have much to say in them.

They continued with the lessons until one unusual morning...

[Ashen]

In the days that followed Anne's unprompted visit, the two women started to feel more comfortable around each other. Or, Anne thought, perhaps comfortable wasn't the right word, but she knew Ophelia didn't fear her quite as much anymore, and Anne was less afraid of saying the wrong thing. She wouldn't forget the looks she'd gotten that first day, nor the paper-thin bonds with which she was holding onto Ophelia still, but at least, now, she could act more naturally. As naturally as an assassin could in the house of her next victim.

Anne had occupied their time, among other things, with teaching Ophelia a way around a blade. She was still quite the amateur, definitely not ready to take on an enemy yet, but Anne enjoyed watching the dainty woman become reborn in the presence of a sword. It was a complete transformation that the assassin found herself looking forward to, despite the dangers that came with giving this stranger a weapon. Ophelia wouldn't hurt her; she was confident now in that. The smile she'd give her, the favors she'd offer to do, the conversations she'd share even late at night, long after Milo had gone to bed... Ophelia was maybe growing to like Anne's company, at least better than the solitude.

But their days together were numbered, and Anne knew that. Rolf had already been gone longer than anticipated, so she assumed her letter found him, somehow. But just how long would she be able to buy herself time? She wasn't ready for him to come home, to find this stranger with his wife, this stranger with knives and poisons and forged letters in her bag. She didn't know what to do. Staying here would come with a variety of risks, but she couldn't just leave Ophelia, not now. She needed Rolf's head, but she felt bad about leaving his defenseless wife alone with a baby. There were countless better ways to have done this; how did she wind up here?

Anne was a light sleeper, a trait she had picked up somewhere in her line of work, so when she heard Milo fussing upstairs, she sleepily opened her eyes and got out of her chair. She made her way to the child and, after making sure he hadn't injured himself in some way, took him downstairs to prepare for breakfast. She fed him a mix of mashed fruits and oats, and judging from the way he cheerily ate, she figured she wasn't half bad with kids after all.

Anne looked to the stairs. Had Ophelia not woken yet? What would she think when she came down to see her new stranger with her child? Anne shrugged it off; the kid was hungry, and she could help. Besides, who would concentrate when he was whining? She turned her attention back to him and absently wiped the spit from the side of his mouth. "How would you like to go on an adventure?" she asked. "To... to go find Papa, hm?" The child wouldn't understand her, or at least wouldn't repeat what she'd say to his mother, but Anne still repeated the words in her head. A mission to rescue Rolf...

She left the bowl of food in front of the child and rushed to her bag. Tossing it onto the table, she fetched a quill and scroll and began writing. Luckily, she finished by the time Ophelia would even notice. She had a letter, now, news from the king himself. Rolf was missing. Would Ophelia believe it? Hadn't she believed Anne's lies so far? And, if Anne could just convince her a bit more, they could get out of the house by the time Rolf returned. Outside, they could train better; Anne wouldn't feel so bad if Ophelia at least knew how to handle herself alone... right? And when they returned to a confused Rolf, that's when Anne could claim her bounty.

"What a ridiculous plan," she murmured. Anne looked back to Milo, who had spilled the bowl and had gotten food all over himself. "This is my fault," she said, rushing to his side and trying to clean him off. "I really do not know how your mother puts up with me."

[BurningKirby]

The moment she woke, Ophelia felt that scorching shame of having overslept rise to her cheeks. It wasn't often that this happened, but nevertheless she took to scolding herself silently, as though words would somehow set her mind and body right so that it would never happen again. Her lexical flailing complete, she rose from the bed and made her way downstairs to the main room.

There she found Anne at the table with Milo and what used to be a bowl of fruits and oats. Just how long had these two been up? The boy had made a mess of the food all over himself and Anne seemed to be mumbling to herself as she worked to clean what she could off the struggling child's chest and soft, rounded face. She took a moment to watch the two interact, a smile spreading across her cheeks as she did. The look on Anne's face appeared a sweet mix of frustration and concern that Ophelia knew only really came from taking care of a child.

"He's quite the professional when it comes to making a mess of his meals. You'd think the king himself was paying him riches for it with how thoroughly he manages to cover himself," She laughed lightly before making her way down the rest of the stairs into the room. "Here, allow me to help you."