covrtofnightmares:
( ALEXANDER &&. ERYK )
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Choosing Eryk Lutz as his target had been no fluke; indeed, it was a choice only made after weeks of careful planning, consideration, and observation. The royal advisor would likely feel a bit isolated in lieu of the recent turnover of power in Dawn Court; this isolation would prove to extend itself by the arrival of Elias Wakefield’s extended family and his recent engagement. On top of that, Eryk Lutz was known to be a bit of a partier. There was no telling who he’d bed, where he’d end up, or what sins he’d participate in. If Alex could manage to convince anyone of a meeting that never actually took place, he was willing to bet it would be Eryk Lutz. Men who were lost and grieving were lucky if they remembered their own names, much less the names of men they met.
Faeries were such fucking fools.
Alex smiled brightly, an expression that felt out of place on his usually-surly face as he took a seat at the table Eryk indicated. The weapons strapped to Alex’s back clanged slightly as he sat down, and he thanked the servant who flitted off in search of coffee for the gentlemen. Alex removed the bag strapped to his shoulder, laying the weapon roll on the table with great care as he met Eryk’s gaze across the table.
“Oh, s’long as I can remember, really,” Alex managed with a light laugh and a shrug of his shoulders. “My mom used to do odd jobs for some of the villagers in town, and when I was old enough, I started apprenticing. Trust me, you won’t find any better blades crafted in the kingdom.” Alex paused, his brows knitting together in worry as he fidgeted slightly in his seat. “I only wish–my blades had been here in time to save High Lord Caerwyn. His death is one that sits with me every day; the guilt I feel, that he didn’t have one of my blades to protect himself. He was a good man–they’re hard to lose.”
-
Ever since Elias took over it felt forbidden to mention Lysander’s name. Everyone had gone on with their lives, acting like nothing had happened. But everyday Eryk missed his friend, the palace felt empty without him. He felt like he was trapped and any wrong move could end with him locked out of the palace for good. When the other man mentioned Lysander, he felt a wave of hurt rise in his chest. It was the same hurt he had been trying to drown with alcohol and whatever else he could think of to fill the gap in his chest. He cleared his throat in an attempt to steady himself. He didn’t want to breakdown in front of a stranger. He also didn’t want the news of his breakdown to get back to his new high lord.
“I feel that same guilt everyday. It was a tragedy, what happened to Lord Caerwyn.” He was relieved to see that the servant had returned with a tray of coffee for them. He took a deep breath and focused on pouring them both a cup of coffee. “He was a great man, and I have no doubt that one of your blades may have saved his life. He was a great fighter when he put his mind to it. One of the best I have seen.”
