The Kill and the Price

[Eurydice]

((Co-written with Dean))

Leaning heavily on Maura's shoulder, Frod shut and barred the door behind them as they entered the room. Balancing plates in his one good hand, he placed the meals on a table in the center of the room. Taking his weight off the young lady, he attempted to hold a chair for her, instead stumbling and sprawling across the table.

Holding back laughter, Maura helped the lordling to his seat instead, and then took her own, blushing as he smiled at her. Once seated, he turned to her.

“Now that we're alone, I just wanted to tell you how happy I am to have met you.” He was looking her right in the eye, which left Maura both strangely pleased and unnerved. “I ... I know I shouldn't say this, but ... if Theuric hadn't died, we would never have met. I can't say that ... I'm ... glad that he's dead, but ... well, Akaran does work in mysterious ways.”

At the first mention of the deceased Altheim, Maura turned a shade of pale not often seen outside of a graveyard. Frod smiled, embarrassed. “I’m… I'm babbling. What I mean to say is ... well, I've become ... quite fond of you over the past day or so. And ... well ... is there ... any way that you would possibly ... could possibly ...”

He looked down, blushing deep red. Neither of them said anything for a seemingly interminable second. “... say ... something?” These last two words seemed forced out in deseration, the way a dying man reaches for light. Resting a hand on hers, he fell silent.

Maura’s hand shook violently under his. “I ... ” she started and did not finish. The silence stretched as she sat there, not knowing how to continue. Finally, she tried again. “Frod, I’m ... I’m glad that I met you as well ... and ... and I won’t lie, I’ve become ... fond of you, as well.”

She broke off again, desperately trying to suppress the guilt raging inside her. Frod gently pulled her to him and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Shh. You don’t need to say anything more.”

Maura stared at him as he pulled away, surprise, happiness, and guilt battling for supremacy in her mind. Guilt was losing. She managed a small, shy smile, giddy with pleasure at such unaccustomed attention.

With his one good hand, Frod had started in on the food, and Maura followed suit, some of the color slowly returning to her cheeks. “So, Maura,” Frod said between mouthfuls “tell me something about yourself that I don’t know. Who are your parents? Where did you grow up?”

She chewed slowly, thoughtfully, wondering how much she ought to say. Eventually, she decided that her standard response would probably be sufficient. “Well ... I didn't know my parents growing up. I was raised by priestesses of Liara. They were going to train me for their order, but I’m afraid I wasn’t terribly good at ... well ... ” She smiled, embarrassed. “... anything, really.”

Playfully, Frod reached towards her, placing a comforting arm around her shoulder. “There is one thing you are immeasurably good at,” he said smoothly. “Stealing my heart.”

Maura blushed, though not as deeply as the last time. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that. We've known each other for ... a day, now?"

“I know, it seems too short a time,” agreed Frod thoughtfully. “I've always been more emotional than the rest of my family. They never really understood me.” He sighed heavily.

“I think we’ve all noticed that you’re the emotional type,” Maura was about to say but didn’t. She was surprised to find her eyelids suddenly growing heavier and heavier, and a mass of drowsiness slowly blanketing her. She blinked a few times, trying to clear her mind and focus on the man in front of her.

“Maura?” He was standing now, leaning heavily on the table. “Are you alright?”

“Just tired, I guess ... ” She blinked again, surprised at how far away her voice sounded. Supporting herself on the table in front of her, she tried to stand, and abruptly, blackness began to close in on her vision. The last thing she saw was Frod pulling something out of his shirt, and plunging it into his chest. Darkness enveloped her.

* * *

She awoke slowly. The first thing she was aware of was that she was lying flat on something soft, a bed, perhaps. The second thing she realized was that she was bound; rope at her ankles and cold metal holding her wrists above her head. She twisted about, trying to shake the grogginess from her head, and then she saw him.

Frod was standing at her feet, looking down at her with a sad smile.

“Maura, Maura,” he sighed, shaking his head, “Why?”

Maura shook her head again, blinking rapidly. “Frod ... ? What’s happening?”

“Justice,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Justice is happening, Maura.” He walked over and sat down next to her on the bed. “I know that you helped to kill my brother. I don't know how, and I don't know why. But I know you did.”

Maura’s eyes widened; she was breathing more rapidly now, panicked and helpless.

Frod’s voice was the embodiment of total calm. He reached down to caress her cheek, and Maura noticed belatedly that his left hand was no longer in a sling, and in fact seemed perfectly healthy. “I would like to know why. I would like to understand you. Why did you kill him, Maura?”

She shrank from his touch, staring in terror, hyperventilating. She tried to form words, but they came out only as panicked gasps and sobs.

Frod stood, moving out of her field of vision. “I have to kill you, you know. I can't let you live now.”

“Frod,” she finally managed to get out between hysterical sobs. “Please ... please don’t ... ”

“I've killed a lot of people, Maura,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “I've even grown to enjoy it. Especially when they're magic users.”

“I didn’t mean to do it ... didn’t mean to ... ”

“But I’m not going to enjoy this,” he said quietly, turning to her. “I truly have come to care for you, surprising as that may seem. I very much do not want to see you die.”

He sighed quietly. “And yet it must be done.” He pulled a dagger from his boot.

“I didn’t mean to!” The shriek tore out of her as if unbidden; she was sobbing, terrified, twisting against the restraints.

Frod leaned over her, cracks showing in his icy calm, eyes blazing. “Why Maura?!” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Why did you kill my brother?”

“I didn’t mean to do it!” she cried, shaking uncontrollably. “I didn't know I'd hurt him! I just wanted to stop him ... she wanted me to stop him ... ”

Frod started. “She?”

“She ... the lady in blue ... the one who Vanir and I keep seeing, the one who looks like Lady Chaos ... she laughed and nodded when I thought of doing it ... I didn't know he'd die ...” Maura broke off abruptly and in a sudden fit of desperation, tried to reach out to the magic and break the manacles. Something slammed at her mind, clamping down and jolting her back with a cry. She twisted up to look at the manacles; there was something there holding her back, and if she had time, she might be able to work around it.

But she was out of time.

Frod sneered slightly. “This ... this lady ... she urged you on. But it was you who thought of the idea first?”

Maura shrank back against the bed even further, like a frightened child locked in a nightmare. “I didn’t know it’d kill him ... ” she whimpered. “I didn’t know ... ”

He stared at her for what felt like a long time, studying her face. Her eyes locked in his. Finally he sighed. “I'm sorry, Maura. I believe you. I believe you didn’t mean to kill him.”

She shook her head vehemently, eyes closed, tears running freely down her face. Frod bent over her again and kissed her lightly on the lips. When he spoke, his voice was still quiet but with a new resolve behind it. “But you did. You did kill him, Maura. And Justice must be done.”

Her eyes flew open.

“I’m sorry, Maura.” He placed his dagger point upward below her chin.

“Please don’t ... please don’t do this ... ”

The dagger was firmly in place, pricking her skin ever so slightly. “This will be as painless as possible.”

“Please ... please don’t ... ”

“I will always love you, Maura,” he whispered gently, his breath tickling her ear as he spoke.

He pushed the dagger into her, and cried.

[Eurydice]

Leaning heavily on Maura's shoulder, Frod shut and barred the door behind them as they entered the room. Balancing plates in his one good hand, he placed the meals on a table in the center of the room. Taking his weight off the young lady, he attempted to hold a chair for her, instead stumbling and sprawling across the table.

Locked deep in sleep, Froderic Altheim dreamed.

Holding back laughter, Maura helped the lordling to his seat instead, and then took her own, blushing as he smiled at her. Once seated, he turned to her.

It was always the same, this dream, it never changed, different as it was from what had really happened.

“Now that we're alone, I just wanted to tell you how happy I am to have met you.”

He always said that. She always replied the same way. For months afterwards it had been the same, every night. He slipped the poison into her food, and she didn’t notice. They talked. She succumbed to the poison, he bound her, questioned her, told her what he had to do. And she wept bitterly, made excuses, but he would not be swayed. He kissed her, whispered in her ear, pushed the dagger into her and cried. And then he woke up.

The dream went on.

She broke off again, desperately trying to suppress the guilt raging inside her. Frod gently pulled her to him and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Shh. You don’t need to say anything more.”

Trapped within his mind, he braced him self for the rest. This was his punishment. This was the price of failure, to witness things as they should have happened over, and over again.

The dream went on.

Maura shook her head, blinking rapidly. “Frod ... ? What’s happening?”

“Justice,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Justice is happening, Maura.”

And on.

He stared at her for what felt like a long time, studying her face. Her eyes locked in his. Finally he sighed. “I'm sorry, Maura. I believe you. I believe you didn’t mean to kill him.”

And on.

“I will always love you, Maura,” he whispered gently, his breath tickling her ear as he spoke.

He pushed the dagger into her, and cried.

* * *

It didn't end.

It should have ended. It always ended, but not this time. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, on the bed next to her still body. It couldn’t have been more than a minute, but that minute was an eternity that shouldn’t have existed. A minute brimming with a silence that scoured his being.

Behind him, a low chuckle broke into his thoughts.

He started and turned to see Maura standing there, casually leaning against the wall. This wasn’t the the girl he had just killed. This woman was dressed in blue and silver, smiling coolly, holding herself steadily. She looked stronger, calmer, completely in control. Her smile ... almost patronizing.

“Does this dream make you feel better, lordling?”

Frod stared for an eternity. He looked back at the bed and then at this new arrival again. “Didn’t I ... just ...” His gaze fell on the bed again, where Maura’s still form remained, blood pooling beside her. “This is the way it was supposed to happen,” he said, quietly. “Clean.”

She regarded him amiably, taking no notice of her mirror image on the bed. “How are you, Frod?”

His gaze swung back and forth between the two Mauras once more. The dream never changed. It should have ended by now.

“This is still ... you’re not ... ” He fixed on the new Maura, eyes narrowed. “You are dead, yes?”

Shaking with silent laughter, still smiling all the while, she replied. “No, Frod. Oh, here, indeed—” She gestured carelessly to the still form on bed beside him. “—in your little fantasies, quite dead. But no. I’m not dead. And I haven’t forgotten you.”

The realization sank in, hit him with the force of a blacksmith's hammer. He knew.

“This isn’t a dream anymore, is it?” he said quietly, a sick feeling rolling about in the pit of his stomach. “Or at least, not my dream, anymore.”

“No, Frod. It’s not your dream.” She took a few steps towards him, taking in the scene with an appraising eye. “Quite a lot of blood there, isn’t it?” Maura chuckled, and looked at him, very directly. “Does it make you feel better?” she repeated. “Spilling that blood. My blood.”

“It was supposed to be clean,” he said, mechanically. “Professional. I was sloppy. I moved too fast. I let my emotions get in the way of my work. I failed.” He stared back at her, his eyes boring into hers. “It won’t happen again.”

She took a step toward him, and then another, and then she was very close, looking more and more like the woman that he had just told he would always love, the woman that he had just killed. “And it hasn’t happened again since?” she asked. “You’ve kept your emotions in check?”

He struggled to keep his eyes on hers. “You make things difficult.” He exhaled quietly. “Very difficult. Everyone else is much easier.”

Again, she shook with that damnable silent laughter, looking genuinely amused at the thought. “That a fact?” She shook her head, a look of polite incredulity on her face. “I’ve seen you dream about this before, you know—”

“Somehow, I’m not entirely surprised.”

“—Funny way to dream about the woman who ‘makes things difficult.’”

“The only way to deal with adversity,” he said stolidly, as if reciting a well-learned lesson, “is to face it head-on.”

“And you’ve been facing it head on, like a good little killer, haven’t you?”

Frod flinched slightly, a ghost of anger, pain, or resent flitting across his features and then disappearing. “That’s what I do.”

“And does that make you happy?” she asked very quietly.

“It’s what I do. That’s all that matters.”

Maura sat slowly, and Frod was suddenly, absurdly aware of being book-ended by two versions of the same girl, one slain by his own hand, the other sitting so close now, facing him, that he could touch her without reaching. Close enough to stab. Close enough to kiss.

And she still, that cool, enigmatic smile. “Poor little Frod…”

His eyes dropped, then rose up in anger to meet hers once again. “Is this why you’re here? To mock my failure?”

He felt the tip of Maura’s finger gently brush his chin, holding his gaze in hers. The unshakable smile was there, but something in it led him to believe it was not derisive as he had first thought.

“’Course not.” She tilted her head towards him in a mock bow. “You think I’d take time out of my very busy dream-walking schedule just to mock you? No, Frod.” Something in her eyes changed; that omnipresent, irritating smile looked almost sad now, as she regarded him. “I don’t know what your opinion of me is, but I’m not so low as that.”

Frod pulled away abruptly, shaking himself free of her touch. “Then why are you here?” he asked sharply, bitterly. He didn’t want to think about what he had to do now, but the words were coming out of his mouth anyway. “You know that I’ll have to come after you now, yes? Once I finish here?”

“Yes, Frod. I know you’ll come after me.” She stood halfway, and then stepped over him, straddling him, pushing him back so that he lay flat against the bed. He could no longer read the emotion in her cool, controlled smile, as she spoke, quietly, her voice almost wistful. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m alive. And well. And I haven’t forgotten you.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was deadly serious. “And when you come for me, I’ll be ready.”

“I’m sorry that I failed you.” He was looking up at her, watching her face stolidly. “It will be cleaner next time.”

She chuckled. “Maybe. We’ll see. Now, then…” Her brow furrowed in mock puzzlement. “How was this supposed to end?”

With the same clarity that had accompanied earlier iterations of this dream, he knew. The same way that he somehow knew that his dagger was no longer in his hand, but rather in hers.

He knew.

“Ah yes,” Maura was saying. “That was it.” She looked down at him, her smile was now unabashed sweetness, child-like in its delight. “You’ll indulge me, won’t you? It goes something like this ... ”

Knowing full well that it was probably a futile gesture, Frod put out an arm to push her hand away. Unsurprised, he saw it pass through her and then fall back to the bed. The point of the dagger was firmly under his chin. Maura bent close and whispered to him. “Plenty of time for that soon enough, love. I’ll be seeing you.”

Her breath tickled his ear as she spoke.

He smiled slightly, resigned to what was going to happen next. It was his punishment, the price of failure. “Your turn now, my dear?”

She burst into that same sweet smile again, somehow no longer irritating, but endearing, and kissed him lightly. “My turn now, aye.”

She pushed the dagger into him, and smiled.

* * *

Frod woke up, sweating and shivering. It was the price.

He would not fail again.