Alliances Offered, Part Seventeen

Evening had finally come, and despite everything that was still unresolved, Tavros was glad of it. He could spend a few minutes in peace and quiet, watch the sunset, and gather his wits...

Anica nodded to him as he stepped out onto the balcony. The stone bench was already occupied; lady Jacqueline Bouvier was seated at one end, leaving the rest of it open. Tavros glanced at Anica, but she just shrugged and said, "I'm pretty sure she didn't come here to murder you, Your Majesty."

Tavros rolled his eyes and started forward again. He seated himself on the bench. "Rough day?"

Jacqueline looked over at him. "You didn't happen to bring that bottle along, did you?"

Tavros shook his head. No, but maybe I should have. 

She swore, in Dwarvish of all things. It wasn't a language Tavros spoke; he only recognized it because he'd heard Sister Tiva use that particular phrase in that particular tone before. "Maybe we should just keep one out here."

"That bad?" asked Tavros. Between Dante being an ass and the inescapable fact that they were not going to be able to drive the demons out of Sol Povos without even more loss of life, he thought his own day had been rough. But Jacqueline looked... drained. 

"Not..." She hesitated. "Not bad, exactly. But I am absolutely prepared to believe that the devotees of Demeter really do count every single bean that gets harvested, that they number every single grain of wheat, and that they keep thorough, years-long records of their worshipers so that they can calculate exactly the best way to distribute the goddess' largesse."

"I'm sorry," Tavros said immediately. "I've asked you to--"

"No," said Jacqueline. "Don't. You asked me to do something important. If it wasn't work, you wouldn't need me for it. And I... I like being needed. I like being valued." She hesitated. "Tavros... would you consider--"

Tavros glanced at her, and was just in time to see the masked figure walk up over the stone balcony, crossbow in hand. Snarling, he threw himself forward and yanked Jacqueline down, half-shoving her under the bench. 

Three crossbow bolts slammed into him; a fourth one skipped off his shoulder and shattered against the stone of the ledge. They burned where they struck -- probably poisoned -- but he shook it off and drew his blade. 

To his right, Anica had her sword out and was charging the figure on the balcony. It turned, surprised, trying to fumble another bolt into its crossbow; Anica buried her sword in its thigh and raised her shield. Tavros spun. He knew from the impacts whence the attacks had come: two from above, one from behind, and one from the assassin that Anica was about to take apart. 

A quick glance up confirmed it: two of the would-be regicides were standing easily on the stone wall of the temple, held in place by magic. The last was on the balcony opposite the first; both of them had been positioned to come up just outside of his peripheral vision. If he hadn't been looking at Jacqueline...

He reached the balcony. His blade met the assassin and cut her in half. 

The other assassin had drawn a blade and was dueling with Anica despite the wound in his or her leg. Good, thought Tavros. I hope that hurts. But the two on the wall above them... They were going to be a problem. If he retreated inside, the assassins would likely escape; but if he remained out here, they would continue to shoot at him and sooner or later something would connect. 

Then Jacqueline shoved her head and arms out from under the bench. Her face was frozen with concentration, and her hands moved with a studied precision. The chunk of ice that formed in front of her open palms catapulted upwards, struck the stone wall, and erupted into a burst of cold that staggered one of the assassins and sent the other one tumbling loose to land hard on the balcony. 

Tavros swallowed and reversed direction, moving to put himself between her and the remaining assassin. He was distantly aware of Anica punching her blade up through her opponent's ribcage before dumping him onto the balcony. He got there just in time: the bolt slammed into him as he threw himself in front of Jacqueline. It nicked him through his scales, and again the wound burned; but again he ignored it. 

Jacqueline came to her feet behind him, raised a hand, and spoke three incomprehensible words. 

This time, Tavros didn't see what happened. He only saw that the remaining assassin jerked, and then fell. It was hard to tell, but Tavros thought this one was a man and he was dead before he struck the stone of the balcony. 

He stopped, sword still raised, then lowered it and turned back to face Jacqueline. Jacqueline Bouvier, daughter of one of the few men he truly, instinctively disliked. Jacqueline Bouvier, who'd just destroyed two assassins without a hint of hesitation, and hadn't taken the world's best chance to stab him in the back. Impressed didn't even begin to cover it. "Marry me?" he asked, tentatively. 

She whuffed a graceless laugh. "I was about to say the same thing."

"It's..." Tavros swallowed. "It's not going to be easy."

"Tavros..." Jacqueline shook her head. "You know I would have been willing, just to escape my father. But this... I want this. Let me be part of this."

"Dearest Amun, yes, please be part of this." He was all too aware of Anica moving around the edges of the balcony, looking up and then back down, casually hunting for more assassins. "I'll give you a proper proposal, something even Vigo and my mother will approve of, but please tell me you'll say yes when I do."

Jacqueline stood still for just a moment. Then she reached up, curled a hand around the side of his head, and kissed him.She didn't say I'll say yes, but by then she didn't have to.