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

[Ashen]

Ophelia's voice, soft as ever, startled Anne. She nearly dropped the bowl herself as she jumped. When she realized it was just Ophelia, she sighed in relief. Just being in this house put her on edge. She smiled and bowed her head in greeting, then turned her attention back to the child. "He was hungry," she explained. "I hope you don't mind that I gave him his breakfast. I didn't want to disturb you, and it didn't look like he was willing to wait." She looked at Milo, carefree, poking at a mostly-solid piece of fruit in his hand. As Ophelia came over, Anne stepped away, letting the mother care for her child in a way Anne never could.

She stood there, awkward. She had finished the letter, the letter Ophelia couldn't read. Was now a good time? As good as any, she thought to herself. "Oh, Ophelia," she started, moving to the table and picking up the parchment. "A man came by today to deliver this. Do forgive me for reading it without you, but it had the king's signature, and I feared something might have been wrong with your husband..." She motioned the letter towards her but, seeing her hands full with Milo, she awkwardly moved it back to the table. "Right," she murmured. "Well... Ophelia, your husband has gone missing."

Anne waited for the reaction. For the pause, the panic, whatever Ophelia would give her to work with. Then, she continued. "He hadn't returned to camp, and according to this, they suspect he's lost in the mountains somewhere. I'm unsure if you've ever been to those mountains, the ones up north, but I've heard people talk. There are ferocious animals out there, godless creatures, they'll attack anything that comes near them. Ophelia--you don't think?"

And just like that, the seed of doubt was planted. If Anne could convince Ophelia that Rolf was out there, defenseless, then maybe it would just be a little bit more to convince her to leave this place. Anne set the letter down and looked into Ophelia's eyes. She wore a look of concern, one she wore too often. "I don't think they have intentions of sending a search party," she said quietly. "But your husband, he is a strong man, isn't he? He's got to be out here. Perhaps... Perhaps we could rescue him, if no one else will." She looked to her bag, to the sword now partially pouring out of it. Sure Ophelia wasn't great with a sword, but Anne just needed her to believe she could defend herself, at least. She turned back to Ophelia. "Forgive me. This is your husband. You know him better than anyone. I just... I cannot stand to sit here idly if there's a chance he may die in our inaction."

[BurningKirby]

"M-missing?" The word dropped hollow from her lips as a stone down a bottomless well, listener silent, waiting, expecting at minimum an impact of some sort-- a promise forged in blood by the laws of physics themselves left unfulfilled. As realization of the letter's meaning spread its shadow over Ophelia, her head felt empty, as though she too were waiting for the stone's echo, some punchline to the cruel joke Anne had just laid before her.

Ophelia's vacant thousand-yard stare pierced Anne's gaze as the woman looked back at her, unflinching. Anne then continued. That's when she knew. This was no joke. As Anne finished and turned her gaze back from the letter to Ophelia again, the housewife made not a move. The plan--no, concept--for rescuing her husband laid before her, she couldn't begin to grasp how there could be any hope to succeed in saving someone with so much more experience and strength than she.

"How did he...? How could they not send a search party? That makes no sense." Ophelia's brow twisted and furrowed as her face grew hot. Watery beads began to collect in her lashes until at last they could no longer bear the weight of her fear and capsized, sending burning streams plunging down her cheeks and off her quivering chin into Milo's small tuft of hair. Feeling this, the child lightly startled, shooting a brief oblivious glance up towards the source of the distraction, then returned to chasing his fruit around the dish before him. "How would we even be able to help him?" Her voice left her as she trailed off and she paused briefly to reclaim it. "I have barely any experience beyond the walls of Onryx and you-- I mean no offense, but Rolf is a seasoned veteran. Neither of us stand to outdo him, so how could we save him?"

The impossibility of the information thrust before her minutes ago swirled about her as she began to panic, looking hard into Anne's eyes for any microcosm of reassurance.

[Ashen]

That look broke her. Anne knew without a doubt that Ophelia trusted her on this, trusted her to interpret the letter bearing the worst news she could imagine. This should have been a victory, a step closer to securing the poor man's head and living another month. Then why did the assassin feel so empty? She turned away from Ophelia, knowing she had to do something but being consumed by her own feelings. This was no time for a conscience. She couldn't forget why she was here. Ophelia was a defenseless woman, a wife and mother who did not deserve to lose the one who meant the most to her. But Anne couldn't lose her own life, and she believed her family could not lose her, either.

She brought her gaze back to the broken woman. Anne walked over to her and tried to place a comforting hand on Ophelia's shoulder, though she doubted it did any good. Her words piqued Anne's curiosity. True, Rolf was a veteran, a warrior--but was Anne so inexperienced in comparison? They were both tasked to kill, they were just on opposite sides of the law. In hand-to-hand combat, would Anne be as outmatched as Ophelia thought? If everything went well in her plan, no one would ever get the chance to know.

"He is one soldier," Anne explained. "Perhaps the king felt it wasn't worth risking the lives of other men to save just one. I imagine in a few days, they will send a funeral party." She kept her voice soft, knowing her words would further wound the grieving woman. But this would be used to her advantage. Anne needed to keep going. She had Ophelia now, willing to save her husband--didn't she?

Anne walked to her bag and drew her sword. "We do not need to outdo him," she went on. She trailed her fingers along the blade, watching Ophelia from the corner of her eye. "You don't just want to sit here, do you? I mean, you're new with this, I know, but I know my way around this weapon, and I'm not bad with a bow, either. I'm sure the two of us could survive out there if we work together. Believe me when I say I have lived through worse conditions, Ophelia." She lowered her gaze to her sword. "When I was barely a woman, my parents separated. They expected us to take sides, but in doing so, I would betray my mother, or my father, and my sisters. I went my own way, cutting myself from them and living on my own. For years I did not have a home to call my own, yet I stand before you today. I had no more experience then than you do now, but you have worlds more than I did. You have a guide." She looked back to Ophelia, a light, sympathetic smile on her lips. "And even if we fail, at least you will know you did not stand idly while others gave up on your husband. I think the least we can do is try."

Anne silently cursed herself. Just how much of her life was she going to tell Ophelia? They were all details she'd conveniently left out of all interactions with people since leaving home, details that might make it just a bit easier to find Anne once this all blew over. But Anne didn't regret telling Ophelia, as much as she wanted to. Maybe they were more alike than either of them thought. And out there, with the comforts of nobility stripped away, Ophelia would have​ to trust her only guide. At least, that was the hope.

[BurningKirby]

"The King?!" Ophelia barely managed to avoid letting herself fly into frenzy as the potential source of her turmoil was presented before her. "That...bastard," she choked out through gritted teeth. She knew all too well Anne had merely been suggesting a possibility, but this was no time for rational thought. Any voice of reason that could have consoled her in that moment smoldered away as flames burst up, overtaking her confusion with white hot anger. "Rolf gave him everything." Her eyes darted about the room, ghosts of lonely nights dancing in and out of her tear-blurred vision. "He traded his life away for us. And this is how it's treated?"

As Anne drew her sword from its sheathe, Ophelia's gaze locked onto its glinting blade, entirely ignorant of Anne's eyes studying her closely. "You're probably right. We should at least give it a shot." It seemed impossible. Rolf was meant to protect her, not the other way around.

Protect...Ah! Milo. Breaking her stare, she glanced down at the boy who this entire time had continued to pick at the massacred fruit laying before him. Anne seemed to follow her train of thought, but she spoke her mind anyway. "I couldn't bring him with us. It would be too dangerous. If something were to happen to us out there-" Her voice caught. "I can ask Rose to take care of him for a while. She'll want to know why, but she won't leave a child like him uncared-for. I'll take him over to her next door a bit before we set out." Ophelia paused and looked back up to Anne. "I um, do hope you have some sort of plan?"

[Ashen]

The anger that suddenly sparked in Ophelia only encouraged her husband's assassin. As an imperceptible smile crawled onto her lips, Anne wondered if all of her humanity had run dry. The doubts she had had only moments before were fading, leaving a trail of pride and excitement in their wake. This was good. This rage Ophelia was feeling for the king... Perhaps that would be enough. After all, humans had few motivators stronger than anger. Anne watched Ophelia, wearing a mask of concern, of understanding, feeding the anger that would finally get them out of this house. From there, she could get closer to her target's wife, close enough to perhaps finish this off once and for all.

And then, she said it. Even though the doubt snaked through Ophelia's entire body, palpable, Ophelia was agreeing to this half-assed plan. Anne had to hold in her sigh of relief. She nodded softly, though she doubted Ophelia even noticed. She was doing everything wrong, but as crazy as it all was, something was working.

The mother looked to her child in concern, and Anne realized the greatest obstacle in this plan. Bringing a toddler on such a trip was beyond dangerous; it was stupid. They would have to watch him too closely out there, with danger looming at every corner, and he would be another mouth to feed when food might be difficult, another body to protect from the temperatures, the wild. But Ophelia mentioned a babysitter, and Anne sighed, thankful. At least this time, she would not have the blood of a baby on her hands, too. Ophelia looked back at her, and Anne shifted uncomfortably under her glare. She felt an uneasiness rise to her throat. What was the plan? Had she had a plan for any of this?

Anne turned away, awkward. "Well," she started, taking her time, "we know about where he is... right? The last letter you received said something about where he was needed, and if he failed to return to the camp where the other soldiers were stationed, he's likely around that area. If they think he's in the mountains... He's a trained soldier, I'm sure if he's there he can survive for a while on his own. It could be that he's just fallen off a path... But guessing won't do us any good. We should start by going to the camp, and from there we can go to the mountains to look for him." Noticing an opportunity, she added, "Perhaps a horse would get us there more quickly, if that's an expense you can afford."

As she spoke, she was struggling to come up with her own plan. She would lead Ophelia out of the house, build up that dependence--until she was no longer dependent and could take care of herself, without her husband. That shouldn't have been part of the plan, would only hurt her case, but Anne kept coming back to that thought. She didn't want to leave this woman alone, after. She shook her head, dismissing it. What good would it do, thinking about after? She cocked her head, tried to read Ophelia's expression. Trying to remain gentle, she prodded, "How does that sound?"

[BurningKirby]

It was unusual for Anne to seem so unsure of herself. Not that Ophelia could blame her. This was far beyond the ordinary. No normal person would know exactly what to do, given the circumstances. Especially if even the king's guard itself didn't know how to find Rolf. The thought once more gave Ophelia pause, and she couldn't help but shoot a small inquisitive look towards Anne. Why is she so okay helping with something so beyond the call of duty? She does work for the king, no? And even he gave up on Rolf... That last thought sparked another flood of anger. She did her best to push it away, for now.

Regardless, Rolf clearly needed help, and if Anne was willing to lend a hand it would be far better to take action than to sit alone at home praying for him to wander his way back out of the mountains.

"I am sure he'll be alright for quite some time by himself. He was always one of the king's best," Her voice caught. "Us, on the other hand... We'll need enough supplies for a week or two, at least. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't want to spend so much, but if it means saving his life, then money is no obstacle."

In the span of a few dozen minutes, Ophelia's life had been turned inside out and hung out to dry. She honestly had no idea what she was doing, but Anne, despite her clearly shaky plan, seemed at least a better person to trust than most. She began thinking over all the supply shopping that would be required, and immediately felt a heavy dread lain upon her shoulders at the unavoidable confrontation with Rose. Milo needed to be taken care of. She'd make sure he would be. Even if it did mean bringing him along, should worst come to worst. She pushed the idea away and looked to Anne once more, brow furrowed and lips pursed.

"So-- shall we begin?"

[Ashen]

The confidence in her husband's abilities carried confidently in Ophelia's voice, and Anne wondered just what had put it there. Was Rolf really as skilled as Ophelia claimed, or was Ophelia unable to see her husband as anything but perfect? Anne dismissed the idea; if all went her way, she would never have to find out just what a man Rolf was. She remained quiet as Ophelia planned what they'd need, all the while wondering how she would keep this up.

Packing fresh supplies was a luxury she rarely could afford. Anne hid her smile at the thought that she would have fresh food for the first days of their journey, perhaps even blankets to sleep on, a pillow if she were lucky. This was going to be an interesting trip--for many reasons. Had she ever traveled with someone else before, someone so defenseless at that? It would be fun, she told herself, already imagining the daintier woman's reactions to being out, away from home, with a stranger. She found herself looking forward to those, to comforting Ophelia, to showing her how to survive in a circumstance she'd never known.

"Perhaps it would be wiser for me to gather the supplies and for you to make arrangements for Milo? The sooner we head out, the better, and I know what we ought to pack. It won't be my first journey." After convincing Ophelia to let her pack, Anne suggested meeting back at the house, and she headed towards the markets, eager to for once have a choice of provisions.

When she returned, she carried two bags full of supplies. She dropped the rest of the money in Anne's hands, tempted as she had been to steal it, and she handed one of the bags to Ophelia. She tossed the other one over her shoulder, on top of the bag she carried with her everywhere. "I've packed food," she explained, "and tools too. It's cold out in the mountains, so I've gotten us some blankets for the nighttime..." She listed the things she bought, ensuring that Ophelia knew what was at their disposal and what they would need. Once everything was set, they set out on their trip to find a beloved husband and a bounty.

They at first set their course for the place Rolf had supposedly not returned to, the camp that by now had cleared up. Anne handed Ophelia a map she had already marked with such locations, allowing her to think she was leading the way. They would have to walk for hours before they got there, and Anne wondered how Ophelia would fare. "Hey Ophelia?" Anne ventured, voice soft, caring. "This'll turn out alright, you know? I'm sure he'll appreciate us coming for him, and... Sometimes, it takes the women to do what the men won't." She flashed her a warm smile, trying to encourage her. "We've just got to have our backs out here. You can trust me."

[BurningKirby]

Ophelia did her best to return Anne's smile, wishing she was capable of returning all the warmth she had received as well. They had only just begun their march towards the abandoned guard camp and her guts already felt as though they had morphed together into a tightly knit ball of anxiety.

It didn't help that she had been given control of where they were heading. The map might as well have been written in another language entirely, Ophelia's ability to think straight was so shaken. "Anne, you wouldn't mind leading the way for now at least, would you? I'm afraid I'm not all too familiar with the roads beyond the city. I'm sure you'd be a better navigator than I." She passed the map to Anne, careful not to crumple it too much as she rolled it up.

Ophelia had been outside of the city before, of course. But her days of running about in the woods long behind her, she felt out of her element in a way she hadn't anticipated. The gravity of what the two were about to do was no little weight on her willingness to rely on her own navigation abilities either. Anne seemed far more rugged and capable of handling such a task. She must be, if the king was willing to place such confidence in her.

Continuing to follow along just behind Anne now that the woman had the map, Ophelia tried to let other thoughts crowd out those stressing her. She got to wondering about her partner on this journey and realized she didn't know too much about her. At last Ophelia ventured forth, "Anne, what is it that the king usually has you do? I don't mean to pry into the duties of the king's circle, I'm sure you all must have your secrets, but I'm not too familiar with it all beyond what Rolf has told me. And even he is but a guard." She looked to Anne, hoping she hadn't seemed too curious to know the woman's business and by extent, she assumed, that of the king's.

[Ashen]

At her name, Anne cast a raised brow towards Ophelia, looking over the map now being held out to her. She had meant to give Ophelia an illusion of control, but this was even better. Ophelia was relying on Anne to get them anywhere, and Anne could take them anywhere she pleased, so long as she made it look like they were following her husband. She found comfort in that. As messy as this mission had been thus far, she at least had control of this. She took up the map again, unrolled it, and tried to hide her smirk.

The whole world was at her disposal now. Ophelia likely knew the surrounding areas, but if she took them far enough from the city, Ophelia would be completely relying on her. She'd need to give them enough time to convince Ophelia they'd tried their best to find Rolf, and enough time for the man to return home on his own. From there, Anne could catch him off-guard, likely tired and confused, easy prey. She'd be able to pay off her debts, and then leave as if she'd never come to this town. But Anne glanced at her companion, scared, jittery. What kind of woman would Anne be to leave someone like her so powerless, so alone? Not my problem, Anne told herself, and she forced her gaze back to the map.

After she briefly explained the way they'd be taking, silence fell over the two. She wanted to give Ophelia the space she needed to mentally work through the situation, and she had other things on her mind anyway. But when Ophelia spoke, Anne raised a brow towards her again. Finally, Ophelia was asking those dreaded questions, the ones Anne should have had answers to already. She paused for a moment, as if trying to decide how much to tell, how much she was at liberty to discuss. With a sigh, Anne continued to weave her lies. "Truthfully," she fibbed, "the king is not concerned with me. My cousin is a guard, much like your husband, and many years ago, he saved the life of the king. His Highness owed my family a favor. I was no one special, just a caretaker for children, one of many in my town, so I had no future ahead of me. The king decided to repay my cousin by employing me, and he sent me to you to help you care for your home and child. As I understand, he will send me somewhere else once your husband returns. I was delighted for this opportunity. It is a high honor to be requested by the king, you realize, especially for a woman. I hope to show him I am trustworthy so that he might have faith in me, and continue to employ me." Anne sighed softly. "I have not met him," she admitted. "I hope to. Imagine--such a nobody, making acquaintance with the king himself--!"

She wore her feigned excitement well. Anne hoped never to meet the king, because she was sure she'd force him to answer to the sins he'd committed, the cries of the starving and the dying. She masked her disgust for the man, and she straightened. Turning back to Ophelia, she smiled. "I know as much of the king's circles as you do," she mused. "Though perhaps one day... Well, do you ever wonder what a kingdom would be like if run by a woman?" She laughed, a light sound, and shook her head. "For now, I am glad for this. I am glad I was able to meet you, even if... I might not have been the help you needed." She turned back to the map. "I do hope to change that, when we find your husband."

[BurningKirby]

Anne's response to her question gave Ophelia a much needed distraction from their quest, if a brief one. She wasn't sure what exactly she'd expected the woman to say, but this certainly wasn't it. It was strange hearing that Anne was a nanny of sorts. She on the surface seemed too experienced on the road to have spent so much time off it in a house by the fire, children laying about her, looking to her for love and sustenance. When would she have found the time to become so skilled with a blade?

Ophelia cast her gaze down to the woman's hands, now clutching the map. Just moments ago as she handed it over, their fingers had brushed against each other, if only briefly. Anne's hands were not the hands of one who had merely cared for children. They were different than Ophelia's. Coarse. Not quite so much as Rolf's, which she had always joked if rubbed together could create enough friction to set a campfire alight, but certainly closer to his than her own. She waved this thought aside for now however and continued to listen.

Hearing Anne's admiration for the king grated on her. There was no way she could bring herself to care for one who had been so flippant with her husband's life, as if he were just another pawn in a game of chess, the decades of his life amounting to no more worth than what they could be traded away for. Stop. Enough. She knew if she didn't put a halt to this she'd fly off the handle again. She calmly let Anne finish.

"Are you saying you intend to become something of a king yourself?" Ophelia smiled lightly but couldn't keep herself from arching her eyebrows with doubt. "Well, I know from what you've shown me thus far, you'd have my support, were you to try. Lord knows we could use a unique perspective up there on the throne." She turned her face a little more toward Anne and grinned. "You've done wonderfully. Thank you."

No sooner had the gratitude left her lips than the clean snap of a twig somewhere on the trail up ahead brought their march to a sudden halt. Ophelia's grin quickly fell and her eyes widened, pupils constricting as she strained them in an effort to see the source of the sound further down the path.