Left Behind
Khayin opened his eyes. It was to be another day. Another struggle. After all that was his life, wasn't it? Since he was a child his life was a never-ending battle. Nohr was a dog eat-dog-world, and he would not have lasted a minute if he had wallowed in self-pity.
He stepped into the miserable pit he called a bath and readied the brackish water that would try to cleanse him. Khayin ran his hands over his scars, breathing deeply as he recounted how every single one was dealt- his daily ritual to not repeat mistakes.
The first, running over his left collar bone, was bestowed upon him when he was two. His father, a drunk Hoshidan beat him and his mother half near to death, before abandoning them to die.
The second, streaking across his back was shortly after his mother's death at the age of three. He had no way to eat, and he was caught stealing. Despite barely being able to speak, he was flogged for "insulting the right of property".
The third, an "X" across his chest was the most painful. When he was fifteen, he unknowingly interrupted a Nohrian royal precession along the river celebrating the coming of age of Prince Xander. He thought he was robbing some rich noble who was too fat to resist. To his horror, he found King Garon, Princess Camilla, and the "Paragon Knight" himself. Armed with a sword that in his virgin hand was nothing more than a prop, he found himself dueling Xander for his life. Xander didn't even draw a weapon. After sidestepping Khayin's strokes, Xander disarmed him and used his own sword to cut two quick slashes across the chest, and the royals left him there for dead.
The fourth was the most recent, and was the result of an easy drug trade gone sideways. The buyer was tailed, and Khayin and his men had to dispose of thirty of the Nohrian Guard. Right when he thought they were out, his Royal Prickliness Xander showed up. Despite Khayin's warnings they all charged him, and were struck dead within moments. Filled with terror, Khayin ran as fast as he could, tears of guilt and shame running down his face. It had been ten years since he had last looked that demon in the eyes. One of Xander's archers managed graze his cheek with an arrow as he turned the corner, leading to a marked cheek.
That was three years ago. Now he worked for the Brotherhood of the Forlorn, a group of assassins-for-hire based in the woods after which they were named. Today he had a rather interesting assignment. If he completed it, he would become the third-in-command, due to having the third-highest kill count. Some parrot-like nobleman, Diego, or Iago, or something like that wanted a certain "whore" dead. Khayin wasn't particularly fond of killing pregnant women, but with a father like Iago, he knew from experience he was doing the unborn kid a favor. Besides, this was Nohr, and if he didn't- someone else would.
He strapped on his knives, checked his swords for nicks, and donned the flexible yet concealing blown-black robe that would let him blend in with Windmire's rotting buildings. Iago had prepared the whole scenario, and had the perfect scapegoat. After he visited his "love", Iago, would leave the door slightly open, and Khayin would come in and clean up, leaving the glove of a former lover behind the door. It would be set as a crime of passion, and Khayin would pocket some easy money.
But why the hell would it go according to plan right? The beginning was easy enough, all he had to do was sneak in. As he drew his Killing Edge blade and prepared to dispose of the woman, he heard a sudden shout to stop.
"Drop the weapon! And turn around slowly!"
Khayin groaned. "Of course, of course-but must it be slowly?" he cooed slyly, dropping the weapon and spinning around with the woman held in front of him. The guard was clearly a rookie, clearly shaking in fear, having never dealt with a psychopath like Khayin before.
"Now if you don't mind", Khayin jeered, "I've got places to be." He threw the woman onto the guard's blade, killing her. The guard, eyes wide in shock and mouth agape, did nothing to stop him from walking by.
"Murder! Bloody murder! A traitor has killed Lady Milova! Someone come quick!" Khayin proclaimed before running around a corner. That would buy him some time (the guard would have to be the new scapegoat until they realized what actually happened), Khayin thought as he turned the corner, and ran right into a certain noble.
"If it isn't the coward himself," Xander sneered as Khayin picked himself off the floor.
Khayin mockingly bowed as he eyes the windows and other avenues of escape. If he was going to run, he needed a way to get to the windows that did not involve him getting skewered by Xander. "Your Prickliness, it is an absolute honor to run into you, but I really must be on my way-" he muttered, before being punched in the face by Xander.
"You're going to rot in jail, scum. A pregnant woman? Does your decadency know no bounds?" Xander fumed before throwing Khayin against a wall with a crack.
That one's gonna hurt tomorrow, Khayin thought. However, Xander was playing right into his plan. All he had to do was piss him off some more until Xander forced him near the window. "I've got a long checklist, buddy, so you might want to wrap this up. I've got some money to spend. Maybe I'll come back later and we can continue this little tea party?"
That was all it took to cross the line. Xander lunged at him and Khayin quickly leaped aside, dodging him, and drew one of his knives and brought it down towards Xander, who had brought himself into a corner to tight to safely draw his sword.
Xander pivoted and stopped the knife barely an inch away from his face. "You are a coward! A disgrace! You ran as your men died! They died for you, you bastard! And this is how you repay them? A life of crime and madness? Is there any compassion in your black heart?"
Khayin smirked. "Good question. Perhaps it is better left for next time?" Laughing at Xander's confused visage, he suddenly- without and hesitation or twitches that would have given it away- jumped right through the window, and into the streets of Windmire, where he effortlessly blended into the large, crowd.
Windmire was the ruins of a once grand-kingdom. Its walls, once a mighty obsidian, were now the color of flaked rust and mold. Towers precariously loomed over the city, ready to fall with one final heaving breath at any moment. The streets were no longer paved, the poor would dislodge the stones and trade them for whatever meagre earnings they could fetch. Besides, as an old friend had once put aptly, none walked the streets of Windmire but the poor and the stupid.
Khayin shuffled into a rather obscure garden to rendezvous with Iago and report the success.
"I thought I was paying for a top-tier assassin," Iago jeered. "Not some armed boor."
"Listen up Diego, it-"
"Iago."
"Whatever. It wasn't exactly as empty as you promised. I had quite the reunion with Prince Xander. If anything, I should be getting payed more."
Iago smirked. "Be grateful I don't smite you where you stand. Keep in mind you address the right hand of Garon."
You might as well be the heir to the throne, you idiot. Like I keep track of the nobility, Khayin silently mused. "My humblest apologies, Lord Iago." Khayin was in no condition to take on a powerful sorcerer after the beating Xander gave him.
Lord Iago huffed, "Scum should know their place," before vanishing in a flash of light.
Khayin sighed. Xander's words had hit him like a galleon. "Who have I become?" he screamed at no one. He picked up the sac of money and flung it over the wall. He's right. I am a coward, a thief, and a killer. But how can I reject that which is in my nature? Squalor is my birthright, my survival my conquest.
He slowly, and painfully, made his way back to his den.
Notes: Well, I've been in hiding for over a year now after threats were made for me, and I am now living in the free world again. My old fanfic got deleted for some reason, so I've got to start from scratch on a new project. This story, from now, does not have a happy ending. Any of you who read Fire Emblem lore can tell where this is going. Big shout out to Gunlord500, who was a pillar of support in my hard times. If you haven't read his fanfic Wayward Son, screw my trash writing and read it.