Assassin in Training: A Celaena Sardothien Origin Story

Waking Up

In the heavy, dark haze between a deep sleep and reality, limbs jerked outward as they individually remembered they were attached to a body. With consciousness slowly rising from its ashes of the night before, the little girl stretched all her limbs in unison to their limits. She savored their effortless glide across the silk sheet hindered only by the soothing weight of the down comforter.

Wait.

Reality and consciousness abruptly collided and knocked the wind from her.

The girl sat up sharply in the bed. Memories, dreams, and confusion overwhelmed her. The world momentarily paused in her inability comprehend any single thing at once. Then, it continued as she began to process everything in hideous clarity. She let out the breath she had gasped in her panic. She forced the memories to the back of her mind. She focused on forming questions to sort through her confusion.

First, where was she?

The man standing in the open door frame cleared his throat. The little girl's head snapped towards him. Her eyes went wide. She hadn't even heard the door open. Her breath caught in her throat again as she frantically looked around for any possible escape.

The room was small. There were two chairs by a hearth, and another next to the bed she was in which was in corner. A lit lamp hung on the wall next to her. A dresser stood against the wall facing the bed. The window was clearly for decorative purposes only; she could see no hinges or latch.

Her view of the hall was blocked by the trim figure of the man standing in the only doorway. She could barricade herself in the dresser, but that would only be useful for minutes at best. She was trapped.

As the man watched her panic rise, he gave as small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and began to cross the room towards her carrying a tray. He closed the door behind him with a kick of his foot.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he assured her once he reached the bed. He set the tray next to her and eased himself into the chair by the bed. He looked supremely relaxed as he leaned back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other.

Since running or fighting would clearly be no use, she decided she must be brave. The little girl resisted the urge to move away from the man. Instead, she lifted her chin slightly and looked him in the eye.

He chuckled.

"I don't know why anyone would want to hurt a pretty little girl like you," the man confessed.

"I'm not little anymore," the girl snapped before she could stop herself, stiffening at his patronizing. This only caused the man to chuckle once again.

She studied him. He was old. Not as old as her parents, but certainly older than all the children she knew. Maybe in his late teens or early thirties. To an eight year old, anyone older than thirteen is simply old. He was tallish, but not a giant. About the height of her... She stopped that comparison and moved on in her mental assessment.

He had dark red hair. Or rusty brown hair? It was somewhere in the middle... auburn. That's the color she had heard ladies use for similar shades. His skin was tanned from being outside often, but not terribly dark. His eyes...

His eyes were grey, but seemed silver in the lamplight. They watched her study him with what might be amusement without a hint of warmth. Curiosity feeding calculations. Satisfaction. With her. With himself. With whatever the hell was going on.

"Who are you?" she demanded. She did her best to sound bold, but her voice shook a bit. His smile grew.

"A friend," he said simply, with a slight shrug. "I saw a lit--, a young woman floating in the river. I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let you drown. I rescued you from the water and brought you here, to my home. The world is a dangerous place right now for a young woman to be out alone at night. Especially floating facing down in a river."