Stormbringer: King

S I X T E E N

"The spy was to be executed for murder,
but on the day of his execution,
his allies arrived and freed him."

'Allies'... Interesting.

・ ・ ・

Slayen looked like he wanted to strangle something. Or perhaps stab someone.

Xenor couldn't tell which.

The redhead's arms were still bound, hanging in the air beside him, but he was tensed against the chains, shoulders hunched and body leaning forward, a feral growl rumbling in his throat. His crimson eyes flashed in the dim light, something akin to nervous anger simmering in their depths.

"I heard my dear little brother came down to visit you a few days ago," Xenor began as he watched him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Care to share what he spoke to you about?"

Slayen's gaze jerked away, falling to the ground. "... The lil' shit was curious," he grumbled out, shifting and looking mildly uncomfortable.

Xenor's eye twitched.

"About what, if I may ask?" He cocked his head.

"Nothing much." Slayen managed a small shrug. "Just wanted to know my motives and all that stuff."

Xenor said nothing, only continued to eye him through the cell bars. He noted the faint marks on the redhead's face— scars from Storm's beating on the night of Liss' death, he assumed— and the curls of his fiery hair, so tangled and matted with sweat and dried blood that it looked like a sodden cloud on fire.

The way he straightened his back every now and then to loosen the tension in his strained arms.

"I assume you know that you will be executed this afternoon," Xenor stated, flicking his gaze back to Slayen's face. The redhead grimaced, eyes still on the ground, and scowled.

"The fucking guards wouldn't shut up about it," he grumbled. His fists clenched. "Kept yapping away in my face about how I deserved to die."

Xenor tilted his chin. "But, Slayen, if you must know"— he smirked— "you're not dying today."

The redhead jerked, looking up and staring at him with wide, stunned eyes. "At least," Xenor added, "I don't intend on letting you die. It all depends on your cooperation."

Slayen looked confused. Xenor did not like the look he was receiving.

He sighed, rolling his eyes in exasperation at how the assassin before him did not seem to understand his intentions, and cocked his head, before gesturing to his person with elegant fingers. "I am being kind to you, you asinine simpleton," he stated with a rather flat tone, wholly ignoring the vehement protest uttered by the redhead at the insult. "You have proved yourself to be of great use to me, and thus I will help you escape from your execution this afternoon." His eyes gleamed, dark and green. "Besides, I have yet to fulfil my end of our deal. With this, consider us equal."

"What'll you do?" Slayen asked, his voice gruff as he processed the information.

"I will create a spectacle," Xenor answered, the corners of his lips curving upwards, "dedicated to your beloved clan and family."