Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They were in his way, so they would have to go. It was that simple. House Calveri was a problem, and so he would dispose of them. Dismantle the whole House, death by death, if that was what it took. It was not personal to him, except that they blocked his path to the Fifth Talon's seat, their alliance with House Morvayne presenting an impediment to his ascension. This is what he told himself. 

There was no tidy explanation, though, for why he passed the first contract across his desk to Vero, or the pang he felt at the sharp intake of their breath as they read it. 

"If you'd prefer another one," he said, but Vero shook their head.

"This one is fine," they told him.

"I will, of course, accompany you. But this time ..."

"You want me to do it myself," Vero finished for him.

It was time, he told himself, for their first kill. If he chose this one for them, it was only practical – the particulars of the contract were suited to it. At most, he would admit that perhaps he was testing them, seeing what they were capable of, whether they would balk at the task or embrace it. 

"The first one can be difficult," Viago admitted, "no matter how much it's deserved."

There was something in Vero's expression that gave him pause. A way they looked down and then back up at him, and then at the contract in front of them. 

"It won't be," they said simply.

Viago arched a brow, maybe slightly amused by their apparent confidence. "Won't be difficuilt?"

"Won't be the first." Vero's tone was always even, tending towards flatness, but there was something strange in it now, a kind of distance. 

Oh. This should have occurred to him, he realized suddenly. House Calveri was known for its high attrition rates; it was part of why he'd looked there for a fledgling to mould. After he had brought Vero home, he had asked them about their training, and they had told him in dispassionate detail about their skills. But this, they had not mentioned it in their two years together. He should have asked. An oversight, to not ask.

"When?" he asked.

Vero looked up at him – but not at him. Past him, he realized, to the wall behind him. "The first one? I was ten, I think." He waited, and eventually they continued. "They took away the practice swords. It was –" they frowned, searching for the words. "It wasn't an accident, not exactly. But I didn't mean to. I just didn't want to die."

"How many?"

"Six. Maybe seven. Sometimes, in the larger exercises, it was ... hard to know, who finished it."

"Were they all like that?"

"No. Some were ... they ordered me to. If someone was injured." Vero's voice was soft, and there was something searching in their expression when they looked at him. They were looking for his approval, he realized, or maybe absolution. 

Cazzo. Viago knew that this was how some of the Houses operated – it was an effective way to create remorseless killers. It wasn't a methodology he ascribed to; he preferred to select his fledglings carefully, easing them into it – well, not gently, not exactly, but with purpose. Vero had accompanied him on several contracts by now, watching as he performed the executions. He had been quietly pleased by their constitution, the way they never flinched at a killing blow or when watching a poison take hold, and had deemed them ready for this next step. He was a fool, to not have seen it. 

"You should have told me."

"Yes, Viago."

"Is there anything else? Anything you haven't told me that I should know?"

They did not look away, but met his eyes resolutely. "No, Viago," they said, and he knew immediately they were lying. It was in the set of their jaw, the stiffness of their shoulders. When had they lied to him before? As far as he knew, it had never happened.

"Vero," he said, a note of steel in his voice. "Try again. The truth, this time."

"No." He had seen the expression they wore once before, more than two years ago, when they had stood in front of a younger child and taken blows meant for someone else. To see it turned on him now – this determination, this denial – he should have been angry. He would have been furious, were it anyone else. But Vero never disobeyed, never refused a direct order. For them to do so now ...

"I see," he said at last. There was no need to push – he could guess what they hid. Hearing it from their mouth would not change what had happened. "This will not compromise you," he told them. It was a command, yes, but there was something else behind it, a concern he would not speak out loud. "Promise me."

There was an incremental easing in their posture. "Yes, Viago," they said again, and then, "I promise."

"Good." He leaned back in his chair. "Now, tell me. This is your contract. What is your plan?"

Viago followed behind them, a few strides back, clearly letting them lead. It was strange to not be following Viago, to be the one with control. But Viago himself was strange. These two years had been some of the most challenging of their short life. Not the training itself, not really – though it was frustrating to relearn how to hold their body.

No, it was the sense of belonging, of purpose. They were no longer simply a cog in a machine, replaceable, breakable. Sure they were still a tool – they had never been nor would they ever be anything else – but now they were a prized dagger, dull and rough, but with Viago's deft hands, they were being honed, sharpened.

Viago's perfect weapon. They shivered at the thought of it.

"What is it?" Viago asked as they approached Lioba Calveri's villa, the Information Mistress of House Calveri. The wall was a tall boundary, made of sandstone from Rialto.

Vero didn't let themself flinch and reminded themself there was nothing that escaped Viago's keen eyes.

"Thinking about our situation," Vero offered. It was vague enough to be about the contract and not be a lie at the same time. They motioned for him to follow them to the side of the wall where a large branch from a tree within the grounds had fallen and bent the barbs of the fence atop it.

"It's normal to be nervous," Viago said as they reached the breach. Good, let him think that, there was no need to refute the assumption. "I'm here to make sure nothing can go too wrong."

"Yes, Viago." Vero said with a small nod. Even though they weren't particularly nervous, saying it still made them feel better.

"What will you do?" Viago asked them as they climbed up the wall and hauled themself over the bent fence.

Vero turned to watch as Viago scaled the wall. Together, they crouched and scanned the villa's grounds. They were perched above a vast and colorful garden, complete with a small hedge maze and several large topiaries.

Vero pointed to the far end of the grounds. A woman was riding in from a trail on a tall, black horse, trotting over to the stable. There, Lioba Calveri.

"Lioba rides for the whole day on Sundays, then spends her night bathing." Vero told him. "I intend to sneak in while she's bathing and slit her throat."

"No," Viago said, making Vero's head whip to the side to look at him. "You do not intend, you will."

"Yes, Viago." Vero said automatically. "I will."

"Good." Viago said, giving them a nod. "Now, it is known that she keeps an extensive staff." He continued, motioning to the stableboy that met Lioba and helped her off of her horse. "What will you do about them?"

"I paid them off." Vero said simply. "She beats them for fun. There's very little loyalty there."

"Very well." Viago replied, giving them a long look. "Let's begin."

Using the tree, the two swung down off the wall and headed toward the villa.

Amidst the shadows of a large topiary horse, Vero counted their heartbeats as they watched Lioba hand off her riding boots to the elven stableboy as she walked, bowlegged after her long day of riding, back into her villa. She had always cared more about her horses than those around her.

The villa was on the edge of Salle, on a lush yet modest plot of land that she had bought for herself after she had helped Grandmaster Guerino Calveri seal his place as Fifth Talon. He had bought Lioba from a rival House and together they had eliminated the previous Fifth. How fitting that she should be the first on Vero's list for Viago's ascension.

They glanced back to see Viago behind them.

"Patience," Viago breathed. They gave him a small nod and turned back to the rear of the villa where the stableboy stood on his toes, his neck craning, looking around to see if anyone was around.

Hopefully he saw nothing.

After another moment, he let out a whistle, a mimic of an Antivan dove. With one last glance over their shoulder, Vero returned the call and slunk toward the villa.

The stableboy motioned them forward as he opened the back door. Vero pressed some silver into his hand as they passed him, sweeping silently into the dark villa.

"May your blade strike true," the boy whispered to them before closing the door behind them.

Vero snorted. The servants indeed had as much loyalty to her as her fledglings did.

They had been watching the villa for the better part of a fortnight and knew her post riding routine well now. The maid would help her undress and brush the tangles out of her long black hair. She'd just be getting in her bath now and would be there for the foreseeable future.

Vero silently stalked through the shadows of the villa. Viago had given them the blueprints and told them to memorize it; and so Vero followed the path they had plotted for themself as they had pored over the blueprint before sleep each night. The villa itself was so much more opulent than they could've imagined. The halls were lined with art pieces and the carpets were sumptuous and a rich purple.

As they made their way to Lioba's bathroom, a maid turned quickly down the hall. She gasped loudly and startled when she saw Vero.

Vero tensed, immediately falling into a defensive stance, but the woman didn't attack and she didn't scream. They noticed her eyes on the daggers at their hip.

The maid looked back up into Vero's eyes and continued walking towards her original destination.

Vero's eyes followed her as she swept past them quickly. They knew the silver would be finding its way to her, too. The feeling bolstered them and they hurried, quietly, to the bathroom.

The key to the bathroom was already in the door when they approached, a gift from the maid. Vero slunk up to it and carefully turned it, a satisfying clunk in their hand. They tried to swing the door open quietly, but it creaked just a bit.

There, inside a lavish bathroom with walls of white marble, was Lioba Calveri. She was lounging in the large, square bath, steam rising from the fragranced water. The room itself was gorgeous, the flooring, and the bath itself, made almost fully of colorful tile mosaics.

Lioba's elven ears perked up at the sound of the door. "Etta? Is that you already?" She didn't bother turning her head. "That was fast."

There wouldn't be any more time. Vero stealthily hurried forward, daggers ready, their boots a mere whisper against the tile. They approached quickly, keeping their breath deliberate and even.

Lioba stiffened then, sitting up in her bath, water droplets sparkling against her pale skin. "Etta?"

Vero panicked, quickly throwing their arms forward and drawing their daggers, sloppily, across her throat.

Lioba gagged then, her hands flying to her neck, but it was already too late. She turned her head now, catching Vero's gaze as the light left her eyes.

Vero stood there, panting, watching as Lioba's blood blossomed into the bath water.

"House de Riva sends their regards." Vero said, voice even, almost cold.

Their shoulders slumped and they heaved out a great sigh. It was over, they had done it. It certainly wasn't their first life, but it was their first solo contract. Against a full Assassin. Their lips twitched upward in something akin to a smile. They had done it!

They spun on their heel and promptly gasped, their smile falling away.

"Viago!"

Their mentor stood silently in the doorway of the bathroom. Of course, he had been behind them the whole time. He wouldn't have let them fail a contract this important, a set of plans this important.

The man walked into the room fully, coming up to inspect their kill. He bent down to assess the quality of Vero's knife work.

"Your hands could have been more steady. It looks like you panicked." Viago told them.

Vero didn't meet his gaze, saying nothing to confirm or deny that. Viago stood again and turned to them.

"Paying off the staff was a smart move," He praised. He reached out with one of his gloved hands and placed it heavily on Vero's shoulder. "Good work, Vero. This is an auspicious start to our plans. It will send the message we want, right to Guerino's desk."

"Yes, Viago. Thank you." Vero said, meeting Viago's gaze evenly. Their heart beat out of their chest hearing such praises coming from him. They wanted to hear those kinds of words again, over and over.

"Let's go home, Vero." Viago said, his hand finally falling back to his side, but his eyes never leaving Vero's.

And, perhaps for the first time, the word home felt true.

Teia had been waiting for them, with a bottle of wine for each of them as congratulations for the beginning of his endeavor. She had watched Vero recount the job with a proud gleam in her eyes. It made something in Viago's chest settle nicely seeing them getting on so well.

Now, the wine bottles were mostly empty, the plates of fruit and cheese were bare, and Vero was snoring softly, their head rested against the high back of the chair.

Viago watched them silently, pleasantly warm from the wine. He could see Teia smiling as she watched him, out of the corner of his eye. He already knew what she was thinking and couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze.

Then, Vero twitched in their sleep, brows drawn together and a deep frown on their face. Their fingers flexed in a facsimile of a fist and something like a snarl spilled from their lips. Nightmares were always the most expressive Viago saw them.

"Does this happen often?" Teia asked, voice barely a whisper. He could still hear the concern woven in her words.

"It was frequent when they first arrived, enough to require a sleeping draught." Viago told her softly.

"Careful, Vi," Teia teased. "Someone might accuse you of caring for your protégé."

Viago finally looked over at her, eyes narrowed. "It was disrupting their training." He said, not quite letting it be a retort. He looked back to Vero as they whimpered quietly. "I thought I was pushing them too hard, but they never complained. Flourished, even, in the end. Despite it all."

"Of course they did." Teia said, her voice rich with pride. After a beat, she spoke again. "Sometimes being in a secure place allows your body to come to terms with what it couldn't while you were trying to survive." She told him, and he knew she was speaking from experience.

Viago let those words hang in the air and brush away the annoying fingers of guilt that stuck in his stomach. "I should have known starting this would bring the nightmares back."

"Give them a chance, Vi," Teia soothed, reaching out and putting a hand on his knee. "You've seen them rise to every challenge, so far."

Viago swirled the remains of his wine in his glass. "True." He threw the wine back. "It's time to test their mettle. The real work begins now."

Chapter Text

The laborotory was quiet except for the sounds of glass tinkling against itself. Vero set aside the glass stir stick and squinted down at the beaker in their hand.

Viago stood next to them, close enough that if either of them moved too quickly, they would hit each other. He watched them carefully. "Do you think it's done?"

"Yes, Viago." Vero said, voice quiet to match Viago's tone.

It was a year later and they had been in the laboratory for nearly 36 hours. Vero had spent most of the past week survailing the next Calveri on their list, the rest had been spent here, with Viago. Vero had made other poisons before, with Viago's supervision, but that had been with the other fledglings, working in the shared laboratory. No, this time they were in Viago's private lab, connected to his quarters in his estate. It was small, almost cramped with the two of them in there, and organized chaos. Chalkboards with notes about concoctions in progress lined the dark wooden walls and there was a small window on the north wall for ventilation, though the glass was stained with the emblem of House de Riva.

Viago had overseen Vero's whole process, quizzing them about their decisions on which additives and bases to mix in and warning them of any unideal interactions, but he had let the process be completely theirs, continuing to let them spread their wings.

"Now, are you ready to test it?" Viago asked, stepping away from the bench toward the cabinet of larger vials.

Vero's eyes widened at the prospect. They had spent hours to make sure it was potent enough to be fast acting.

The corners of Viago's mouth twitched as he put a beaker down on the bench and another liquid that looked like water. "We will dilute it." He said, sending a wave of relief through them. "You should always test your own creations. You should always know exactly what you are doing to your mark."

"Yes, Viago." Vero said, nodding along with his words. "Understood."

Viago then showed them the dilution process, cutting the potency to a non lethal dosage. Vero watched him, fascinated as they watched his gloved hands handle the glass with care and precision.

When he handed them a small vial with the dilution in it, Vero took it without hesitation. They knew he would only let it hurt enough to understand.

Viago pulled out one of the daggers he kept on his shoulder, close to his heart. He offered it to Vero, hilt first. Vero took the dagger, short and deadly, and poured the dilution on the blade. The metal hissed gently as the thick liquid flowed into the intricate engraving of a murder of crows.

Vero's heart beat loudly in their chest as they anticipated the pain that was coming, but they put the vial down on the bench and then brought their arm up. With one last glance at Viago, Vero drew their blade across the skin of their forearm. A small drop of blood seeped down, a result of the anticoagulant they had added, before the pain started.

It was exquisite. Vero's knees buckled, the white hot pain searing through the veins in their arm as it spread toward the rest of their body. Viago jumped for them, catching their elbow before they could fall to the floor.

"You made it strong." Viago praised as they steadied themself.

"Of course." Vero gasped out as their heart was engulfed in flame. "It's what the fucker deserves."

Viago's non smile graced his lips again. He motioned to the small chaise in the far corner of the room. Vero hobbled over to it, leaning on Viago's arm as they went. They settled heavily on the chaise, Viago's hand lingering on their shoulder for just a heartbeat. Vero's normally stoic face twisted into a pained grimace, their dark hair sticking to the sheen of sweat that was appearing on their forehead.

Viago loomed over them, watching the reaction carefully. "Tell me what it's like." He commanded. "Tell me what's happening."

Vero breathed out, steading themself. "It feels like flames in blood. I can feel it burning through my veins." They explained, sweat dripping down their face now. "It's reached my chest, my heart is aflame."

Viago's hand rested on the back of the chaise and he leaned in close, inspecting them. Again, Vero wondered why the thing was even in here.

Vero breathed through the fresh wave of pain that hit them as their body was consumed by the fire of the poison.

"Vero." Viago pushed, tone serious.

"It's all over now." Vero grit out. Despite the pain, they were thrilled, knowing this is how Brask would feel in his last moments. Only much, much worse. "Everything burns, down to the tips of my fingers and toes."

Viago nodded, standing a bit straighter, though his hand never left the chaise.

By now, the curiosity was killing them. They spoke again, "why is there a chaise in your lab?"

Viago met their eyes. "Just as I told you, you test every creation."

"Alone?" Vero huffed out. The thought of him by himself, suffering like they were now, made their heart ache more than the poison.

Viago silently watched them for a long time. "Perhaps not anymore."

The two of them sat in a thick silence, Vero trying not to tremble off the chaise, Viago standing over them, not letting his intense gaze stray from them even for a heartbeat, both breathing heavily.

As the pain began to subside, Vero's breathing became controlled again and Viago relaxed enough to lean against the wall.

"What will you call it?" He asked them, quietly, after a long while.

"Heart Aflame," Vero answered him, just as quietly, still not well enough to sit up straight.

Viago's lips twitched. "Very good."

Vero panted lightly as they leaped across the rooftops of Salle. They knew these roofs well, where they touch over the alleyways, where the corners turned shadowy in the night. They had known Salle before Viago had bought them, but this week they had studied these few blocks enough to know them by heart.

Viago shadowed behind them, his leather boots silent and his cape whipping in the strong gusts that occasionally tore through the tall buildings. Vero would not need his help, they hoped silently. They had completed the last three without his direct influence, but still he insisted. It made sense, this mark, Brask Calveri, the House's Weapons Master, was twice Vero's size. But that was why they had decided to use poison.

Vero stopped close to a raucous tavern, crouching behind a large statue of an eagle on the corner of the roof. Viago joined them a few moments later, his eyes taking in everything around the two of them.

"This is it?" He asked, watching as a pair of men, laughing in each other's arms, stumbled out of the tavern and across the cobbled street.

"Yes. Brask is here weekend nights and takes the same path to his villa most times." Vero told him, never taking their eyes off the front door, wide open and spilling out a welcoming light.

Viago gave a quiet snort. "Sloppy."

"He's close to the Talon so he has gotten complacent." Vero said, settling into their spot. "He usually leaves about midnight."

"So now we wait." Viago said, settling down himself.

Brask didn't keep them waiting long. He walked out of the tavern's door backwards, swaying but steady on his feet. He called out to the women still within, whose giggles could be heard up to the roof. Vero tensed against the curved tiles beneath their feet. They pulled out the vial of Heart Aflame and a dagger from their thigh. They coated the blade, thicker than the trial from last night. It gleamed, dark as ichor, in the moonlight.

Viago nodded to them and the chase began.

Vero rose from their crouch to creep after Brask, mirroring his position from on high. They watched him carefully as they followed behind him, keeping their steps a light as they leapt to another roof, Viago trailing behind them.

They were approaching a quiet alley, it was a good a place as any. Vero sped up their steps, reaching the alley before Brask. They poised to leap down, but Brask casually turned down a different street, singing drunkenly to himself. A street that unfortunately led to a small plaza.

"Cazza," Vero hissed. They rushed after him, leaping carefully onto a few boards that went across the street. They quickly got ahead of Brask again and began their descent, climbing down a trellis that lined the apartments above a shop and bouncing off a canopy to land in front of him. This time, their boots echoed off the cobbles.

"Mierda!" Brask swore, wobbling as he put his hands up. "Who is it? Who are you?"

"Hello, Brask," Vero said, their voice and expression even despite their heart pounding in their ears. "House de Riva sends their regards."

Brask steadied himself and squinted at them, though he didn't reach for his weapon, yet. "You!" He shouted, recognition finally on his face. "I remember you."

Vero didn't bother responding, he was a dead man after all. They brought their poisoned blade forward in an offensive hold. Over Brask's head they saw Viago position himself above them, ready to leap down. It filled Vero with confidence and so, forward they rushed.

Brask snorted and finally drew his rapier. "Let's see what your new master has taught you, little girl." He taunted.

Vero's lip twisted minutely and they slashed out. Brask brought up his blade and blocked, making Vero's bones rattle. They didn't let themself slow, they brought their dagger back with a spin. Brask reached out, trying to block a kick that wouldn't come. Vero took advantage of the opening and stabbed at his side. Brask twisted as fast as he could, barely blocking the blade in time, but the motion set him off balance and he toppled to the ground.

Viago leapt down then, letting his boots clatter on the street. Brask scrambled on the ground trying to see who was approaching now. It was enough for Vero to close in.

"Finish it!" Viago commanded, his light eyes burning holes into Brask as he stalked toward them.

With that, Vero stabbed the poisoned dagger into Brask's shoulder. He grunted just before he started screaming.

Brask convulsed and fell face first onto the cobbles, his head hitting with a satisfying crack. The Weapons Master writhed on the ground, screaming as though he was being immolated. Vero stood above him, watching their concoction consume him, their expression as placid as ever. Viago stepped up to them, his face straight, though his eyes gleamed with pride.

The two watched, as did some spectators in the apartments that lined the street, as Brask gurgled out his last breath, eyes popping out of his skull and foam leaking from his mouth.

As he went silent, Vero let themself feel the victory. They reached down and yanked their dagger out of the man's flesh. It was covered in blood and still hissing from the reactive poison.

"Well done, Vero." Viago said quietly, handing them a cloth to clean their blade. "Calveri's circle grows ever smaller. That just leaves–"

"Two." Vero said, cutting him off. "The Grandmaster and the–" their voice failed for just a moment. "Mariano."

Viago watched them for a long moment. "Indeed. In the meantime, congratulations."

"Yes, Viago," they said, more as a comfort to themself than anything else. "Thank you, Viago."

Vero clinked wine glasses with Teia and she laughed aloud. They watched as Teia repeated the action with Viago before making eyes at him.

The two of them were sweet. Vero took a sip of their wine to hide their half smile.

"You're getting closer, Vi," Teia said, gracefully sitting herself down in one of the plush chairs of Viago's private quarters. "Thanks to your secret weapon, here."

Viago's eyes landed on them. He was frowning, but Vero could see the pride glowing in his eyes. It made something warm expand in their chest to see it.

"Indeed." He said into his wine glass. "Vero is instrumental in this plan, and they are going above and beyond."

"Ah, just like we knew they would, right Vi?" Teia said, throwing a wide smile to Vero.

Vero took another sip of wine. Teia was always so good to them, and Viago, too. It always made them happy in a way nothing else ever had. Vero cherished it, and her in turn. "Thank you, Teia."

"Now," She continued, looking back at Viago. "You've got House Morvayne on your heels still?"

"Yes," Viago said, his frown deepening as he began to think of his plot. "We thought they would be steadfast allies for the Calveri, but they've started taking their own contracts on them, muddying our position. It seems Morvayne's alliance was a guise for an attempt at Fifth Talon."

Listening to their voices descend into discussion of house politics, Vero let themself relax, their gaze drifting to the flickering light of the fireplace. It was a rare thing, for them to feel like this– and they would probably only ever feel like this around these two. It was a strange sensation, security, but not an unwelcome one.

One they might even let themself get used to, if everything kept going the right way.

Chapter Text

Another year later, it was raining is Salle; dark, heavy clouds pouring down on the streets of the city. Vero stood at the window of Viago's office, watching the droplets race down the panes.

Like a phantom, he appeared in the window in front of them. Vero's eyes raised to look at his reflection, their placid expression never giving away the quiet calm that came with Viago's presence, his nearness. He wouldn't be with them during this contract, but having him here now would be enough to see them through the job.

Viago put a hand on their shoulder. "Are you ready?" He asked them, the low rumble of his voice barely audible over the pounding of the rain.

"Yes, Viago." They said, automatic, natural, like a sigh of relief on their lips.

Viago nodded to them, the reflection of his eyes turning down to meet their gaze. "Tonight, you finish this."

"Yes, Viago."

"Fly well, Vero. And may their deaths bring you peace."

Vero approached the edges of the estate silently, the hood of their cloak keeping their face dry. Before they ventured forward, they ran their fingers over their arsenal. Their daggers, their knives, two vials of Heart Aflame, everything they needed was here.

This was it. The last of their former House, the last of these fuckers who thought cruelty was their only tool to mold their fledglings. The years with Viago had changed their entire perception of what it took to be a Crow. And now Vero would show the remnants of House Calveri what they had become, molded to be their reckoning.

Vero skirted around the perimeter of the grounds. They had never been permitted to be anywhere near Grandmaster Guerino Calveri's estate during their time with the Calveri, but Viago had, of course, provided blueprints, and Vero had spent the better part of three weeks casing it. They were confident they knew it well, and the sight lines from where the Grandmaster spent most of his time. So they slunk through the rain, their boots splashing in the mud, and hauled themself over the slick, but degrading, stone wall and towards the guest wing of the sprawling estate.

Vero waited until there was a peel of thunder rolling across the sky before they used their shoulder to push in a panel of the wall of the far flung wing of the Grandmaster's estate. Guerino had become so paranoid over these three years, that he had sent away or killed all his staff; only letting his righthand, Mariano, House Calveri's Discipline Master, close by now.

And that was why it was so surprising to find the elf tied up to one of the four posters of the plush bed. Their tight, black curls were matted and they looked uncomfortably thin. They were probably younger than Vero, but only by a couple of years. Their blue eyes shone eerily in the dim light.

"Who's there?" They asked, their voice trembling.

Vero stood to their full height and met the elf's eyes.

Before Vero could answer, the elf strained against the rope tying them to the bed. "Please! Help me! You have to get me out of here!"

Vero was momentarily surprised but hurried over to the elf, one of their throwing knives in hand. Of course the Grandmaster of House Calveri would keep an elven slave. But Vero paused as they approached them, doubt curling in the back of their mind.

"Who are you?" Vero asked, voice quiet but curt. They noticed the tightness of the rope, rubbing the elf's wrists raw and bloody.

"Aléjandro," he said, keeping his voice low as well. "Please, you have to help me. They killed so many of us."

Us? Was he staff or fledgling? Vero watched him carefully, but saw no lie in his eye. "Why are you still alive?"

Aléjandro's face crumpled. "They needed a house servant after he killed them all! They needed–" His voice broke and his eyes squished closed, sending a few tears onto his cheeks. This close, Vero could see both fresh and old bruises peeking out from under the rags he was dressed in.

They needed an outlet.

Vero didn't need to hear anymore. They reached for the ropes holding Aléjandro to the bed and sliced through them easily. Aléjandro gave a little sob and rubbed at his wrists gently.

"Thank you," he whispered. His eyes finally locked on the weapons poking out of their cloak.

"Do you know where the estate of House de Riva is?" Vero asked quickly, grabbing his attention back. But time was wasting, the storm wouldn't last forever.

Aléjandro gave a small shake of his head. Vero sighed, making Aléjandro flinch, but quickly gave him directions. "Ask for Viago, tell them Vero sent you. You should be able to go out the way I came in."

"Vero?" Aléjandro asked, voice weak. "That's you?" Vero gave a stiff nod. "You're the one who's been killing the Masters?"

Vero paused, unsure of where this question would lead. "Yes."

Aléjandro gave them a serious nod, his eyes shining in approval. "Thank you, Vero." He stood and hurried to the hole in the wall.

"Wait!" Vero hissed before he could disappear. "Where are they?"

Aléjandro paused, his hands on the wall. They could see him weighing his options. If Vero failed, Guerino and Mariano would know he had snitched. The consequences could be dire.

"His study." Aléjandro said finally.

Vero looked to the floor as they paced through the blueprints in their mind. "Got it. Go."

Aléjandro nodded again and disappeared through the wall.

Vero snuck through the door. The hall was eerily still, the ocassional lightning being the only light. They knew where their marks were, but still, Vero ventured through the estate as carefully as if the men could pop out at any moment.

Following the blueprint in their mind exactly, Vero found the study in minutes. As they approached, they noticed the wide trim at the ceiling leading right to an open glass window into the study above the door. They swiftly climbed up a weapons cabinet and pulled themself onto the trim. On their stomach, they crawled into the room.

The study was a modest size, with full bookshelves lining the walls. An ornate, unlit chandelier hung from the ceiling, swaying with the force of the storm outside.

Vero froze as lightning flashed in through the wide window, careful not to be noticed. With the light, they could see their targets in the room. Mariano Calveri stood at the large window, his arms crossed, diligently watching for any incoming intruders, just as they had predicted. Little did he know, Vero was already here and watching him.

Grandmaster Guerino was sitting at his large, hardwood desk, hands shaking as he poured himself a glass of golden brandy from a mostly empty bottle.

They were scared. Good.

The thunder masked the creaking of the trim as they scuttled all the way into the study. They put themself into a kneeling position as sturdily as they could on the trim, but knew it couldn't hold their full weight forever.

With practiced hands, they unsheathed a knife and drew out a vial of Heart Aflame, quickly coating the small blade with the poison. Vero stilled themself as they took aim at the Grandmaster and held themself like that, barely breathing, until another flash of lightning flooded the room.

The study went dark and the thunder crashed, rattling the walls. Vero threw, knowing they hit their mark as Guerino screamed. As their eyes readjusted to the dark, Vero could see Mariano at the Grandmaster's side.

"What! What happened?" He yelled, taking Guerino in his hands. He pulled the poisoned knife out of the Grandmaster's neck to examine it. "Who did this?" Mariano dropped him and looked around, searching for the intruder.

But then the Grandmaster started screaming, the effects of Heart Aflame beginning to consume him, and Mariano spun back around to see what was wrong with him.

Vero drew a dagger this time and lined themself up to leap down at the two men.

Mariano was swearing, trying to quiet Guerino, and, as another flash of lightning lit up the study, Vero jumped.

Mariano never saw them coming.

Vero landed on him, toppling both him and the Grandmaster out of the chair. Mariano screamed as well, their voices dissonant in Vero's ears. They didn't waste any time; one foot crushed the hand with the poisoned knife, one hand spun his other arm painfully around to his back, and their knee was at the base of the back of his neck.

"Who is it?" Mariano gasped out. "Is it really you Vero?"

Vero pressed more of their weight against his neck. "Take a guess."

Mariano laughed though it was barely more than a cough. Guerino kicked out as he screamed, just barely missing Mariano's head.

"Not going to poison me?" He asked, craning his neck to try and look at them. The sight of his eyes made Vero's skin crawl. "I thought that's what your new master was like."

"It's too good for you." Vero growled out. They used their free hand to get the poisoned knife away from his grip. "Though that's most things."

Mariano gurgled out a laugh, not even trying to break free. His face was going beet red. "de Riva, what a joke." He gasped out. "Does he--"

"Shut up!" Vero snarled and twisted their foot to break his wrist. Mariano tried to cry out, but he choked on his breath, descending into another fit of coughs. Vero slammed the pommel of their dagger into his temple, and he blinked dizzily.

Vero reached over and broke off one of the legs of the toppled chair, solid and heavy in their hand.

Guerino finally stopped screaming.

They raised their hand and lightning flashed into the room.

Vero slammed the leg into Mariano's skull. Their lip twisted into a full snarl and they hit him again and again, until the muscles in their shoulder screamed in pain and they were unable to breathe.

Mariano no longer struggled beneath them and his brain leaked slowly out of the cracks in his skull.

Vero panted and dropped their weapons, then let themself fall to the floor after them. They stared up at the dark wood ceiling, slowly regaining control of their breath.

When they finally felt like they could move again, they rolled their head to the side and met Mariano's cold, dead eyes.

He would never touch anyone again.

They brought a hand up to their face to wipe at the sweat, but when they looked at it again, it came away red with Mariano's blood.

They smiled, truly smiled, for a few heartbeats.

It was over.

Vero walked out of the front door back into the rain, a slow drizzle now instead of the pouring from earlier. They pulled off their hood and wiped at the rest of the blood on their face, blinking the water away.

When their eyes focused again, Viago was there, an umbrella in his gloved hand.

Vero very nearly broke into a sprint to run into his arms, but they only quickened their pace instead. They didn't chase the small smile off their lips, though this one was nothing more than the upturned corners of their mouth.

But they knew Viago saw it, his eyes were glued to their lips.

"Congratulations." Viago murmured to them, his mouth echoing theirs in a small smile.

"And to you," Vero said with a small nod, joining him under the umbrella. "Fifth Talon."

Viago's smile transformed into an uncomfortable glare. "Please, just Viago."

"Yes, Viago." They said and a shiver ran through them both.

Viago watched them carefully, watching for cracks, any sign that this had been a mistake. The display from before had been ... chilling. Vero was usually so calm while killing, to see such passion in them, such hatred, was unnerving. And already he was wondering how he might access it again in the future.

But they smiled, actually smiled at him, and he couldn't help but smile back.

He must worry too much. He underestimated them, and they far exceeded his expectations. They had brought down an entire House, practically by themself.

And all in his name.

He was intoxicated; the devotion, the control. This endeavor had only brought them closer.

Viago took in a steadying breath and tempered himself. It would not do to get carried away by these frivolous feelings.

He glanced over at Vero, silently walking next to him under the umbrella. Their steps were lighter, their shoulders looser. The difference between the person they had been going in to that estate was staggeringly different to the person walking with him now.

He couldn't have asked for a better performance.

With House Calveri now out of the way, it was time to declare himself Fifth Talon. Teia would have to know. He would have to contact Caterina Dellamorte. Finally everything was in place.

"Did you see him?" Vero asked suddenly. "The elf, Aléjandro?"

Viago blinked, so swept up in his machinations that he had almost completely forgotten about him. "Yes, he's waiting for us."

"Will you accept him into House de Riva?" Vero asked, looking over at Viago. "He was already a fledgling."

"Are you vouching for him?" Viago shot back.

Vero's gaze turned forward again as they considered their answer. "If he's the last they left alive, there must be a reason. I bet he would learn quickly."

Viago watched them for a moment. Why not give them more responsibilitiy? "If he's fails, it will be on your head."

"Yes, Viago," They said immediately and it sent another warm thrill through him.

As they reached the gate back to Salle, Viago paused and turned to his righthand. He put his hand on their shoulder. "Vero, let's go home."