(2022-07-22) The First

Details

Author:	Aly
Summary:	Jenzelle begins her operations inside the Scarlet stronghold of Tyr's hand.
Rating:	M for Mature 17+

Jothran Silvertone. The choice was firmly in Jenzelle’s mind as she hurried down the halls of the barracks in Tyr’s Hand. He would be the first.

It couldn’t be Mevlin, though she loved him with all her heart. He would blab to someone and endanger the entire mission. Mevlin was good with jokes, not secrets.

Jothran was the big brother of the group, the man they had all turned to after Kaela Mondragon’s death, and the one Jenzelle, and probably all the others, trusted the most. By the time she arrived at his room in the barracks she was running, her robes collected tightly in her hands so she wouldn’t trip.

“Jothran—!”

All eyes turned to her as she burst into the room, the shared room, lined with bunk beds, full of men just returned from patrol, in varying states of undress, Jothran included.

He was tall and heavy-built, with short brown hair and blue eyes, currently shirtless on his bed with his breastplate in his lap. Cleaning it, no doubt, before Jenzelle had burst into the room, freezing and silencing all the men within. Slowly, activity began again, though their attention remained on her, the intruder, who had disrupted their otherwise boring routines of dressing and undressing, preparing for the coming mealtime and break well-earned. It was too late to back down now, while she was being watched so closely. Stupid, stupid…how could she have thought he’d be alone?

After lowering her robes back to the floor and straightening them out, she entered, padding softly across the stone floor, her shoes barely making a sound. She wove her way through bare-skinned men, some wearing pants, some…not, until she arrived at Jothran’s bed. First, she noticed the bruises. They dotted his chest and shoulders, and under his arm and at his side, minor cuts were drying.

“Jenzelle.” His voice, deep and soft and even, startled her into meeting his gaze. It was the voice of a man who was raised a singer, born to a family of professionals. A man who sung for choirs, and churches, until he followed his own dream and became a paladin. He was surprised, it was clear, but he gave nothing more away as he set his breastplate aside on the bed, and waited, ready to follow whatever lead she gave him. After all, she would not be here if it were not important, not here, not like this, with so many watching, and…lusting.

She felt their eyes on her back, heard their whispers and nudges. They were soldiers, just come back from what might have been their deaths, and likely some of them had fallen, as the room wasn’t as full as it should have been, and though the wounds on their bodies were minor, they were still fresh. Certainly others had been taken to the infirmary for treatment, as was always the case when patrols were attacked, but these men were safe, and lucky, and hungry to satisfy their urges before death could put an end to it all.

“You’re hurt.” Jenzelle reached out to him, her fingers brushing lightly over a bruise on his shoulder. She moved closer, slipping between his legs until her own touched the bed upon which he sat. They were close, now. Lovers close, she realized, as the blood rushed to her cheeks, but she couldn’t say what she needed to say out loud with so many watching.

His blue eyes searched hers, and he did not pull away, he just sat there, patient, waiting, watching to see what she would do next. She got as close as she dared, as close as she could handle, before the whisper escaped her lips. “It’s about Rae…”

At once she felt his hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer still. She squeaked as her balance left her and she fell forward. Her hands, in an effort to catch her, found his chest. She was now supported almost entirely by his body, and it looked, to all present, as though they might be about to engage in some sort of activity.

Too close, too close, too close, too close…

Jenzelle squeezed her eyes shut, and felt his forehead press against hers as his breath, warm, met her cheeks. “Tell me. But not here. Tonight, we’ll take a walk. Meet outside the Chapel.” He released her, allowing her to regain her balance and pull away, back to the safety of personal space, and a space in which she could better examine his wounds.

She spoke a prayer, feeling the familiar Light answer and flow into him, and he reacted, as he always did, with a breath he let out slowly, his muscles relaxing as his pain faded away. Tonight, his eyes said, and she nodded, turning and weaving her way back through the men and out the door, making eye contact with no one. As soon as she re-entered the hallway she heard whistles and laughter from the room, the reactions to their display. With luck it would mask her real intentions.

- - -

That night they met in front of the Chapel as promised, Jothran thankfully clothed this time, wearing leather that, while easy to move in, would still provide some protection should Tyr’s Hand come under attack. It was dark out, but fires lit every window, sentries lined the walls, and the forges ran day and night. Civilians still populated the city, trying to maintain some normalcy in their daily lives, though most had long been recruited into the Crusade.

Their walk began in silence, but Jothran did not let it remain that way for long. “First, I would like to apologize. I know that was uncomfortable for you. Are you alright?” His hands were stuffed into pockets, but he was tense as he gazed down at her.

“W-well, it was…” Jenzelle gave a timid smile. “Necessary, really. I’m okay, but I hope I didn’t cause too much trouble for you.”

Jothran sighed. “I will help you explain the rumors to Mevlin. There will be rumors. But…Rae. She’s…? Is she alive?”

“She’s alive.” Jenzelle lowered her voice, hoping it wouldn’t carry too far. “I don’t think she’s cured, but…she’s doing well. There’s a mercenary company she fights for now. Cobalt Company. They took her in, even knowing she used to be one of us, and…I think they would take us as well.”

Alarm spread through his eyes, though he managed to keep his expression from changing much. His own voice dropped in volume. “I’m glad she’s alive. Have you told the others…?”

She shook her head. “You’re the first.”

“Wise.” He studied her in silence as they walked, his mind probably racing. Like her, he had been devastated by what happened to Ralaea, but for the safety of the others he’d asked her to leave, ready to strike her down if she did not.

“They’re good people, her company, I know they are. They’ve given me a chance, and I know if we trust them, they’ll look after us,” she continued.

“You’re risking a lot by even speaking of this, Jenzelle.” Jothran’s eyes wandered over their surroundings. It seemed idle, nothing more than a what’s out there glance, but she knew he was taking in everything, -every one- around them. “If the inquisitors catch wind…”

“I know, but I must. I must do this, Jothran. We need to leave this place, or…or we’ll go back to how we were. And then, Commander Mondragon…”

Jothran stopped walking at her mention. His lips became a grim line, and the muscles in his arms hardened. “I made her a promise. A promise that, if anything should…happen to her, I would protect the rest of you. I will keep that promise.” Silence filled the space between his words. He started walking again, slower. “Convince the others, if you can. But if any one of them stays, I will stay with them. It’s not safe here.”

Relief swept through Jenzelle. He understood. Of course he did. “Who should I ask next?”

“Not Mevlin. He’ll follow you. Leave him for now. Try Alver. I haven’t seen him since they split up our squad, and Taya will be a hard sell. We will need to approach her together. Her hatred for the Scourge drives her to extremes.”

Extremes like trying to kill someone she fought beside for years, because she thought she had already turned, that it was too late, that she would be doing her a favor by ending things. But Ralaea had been just quick enough to avoid a fatal wound, and Jenzelle was grateful for that.

“Taya…” Jothran began, his voice gentle, “Fits in well here. But we will come up with something. Together.”

Jenzelle smiled up at him, glad to share her burden with someone she trusted, someone reliable, who made her feel safe. Hope swelled through her. Hope that this nightmare would end soon. That they could fight the Scourge as humans, not as monsters. That they could stay together.

They stopped at last just before the Abbey, and Jothran leaned in close. “Jenzelle,” he said. “Don’t let them catch you.” And then he was gone, strolling through the darkness with his hands still in his pockets.