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Screams in Darkness

He listened to the soft sound of her steps. The door opened with a slow creak, then a slight pause; he knew she was checking to see if he was asleep. Another slow creak as the door closed behind her.

Eamon opened his eyes and counted to ten. Then he got up, put on his housecoat and followed after her. Long ago he suspected she had a lover, and had started to follow her, in order to catch her in flagrante. But instead of a lover, he found that she would wander aimlessly through the corridors like a silent ghost. In the end, she would always come to Connor's room. There, she would curl up on Connor's bed, sobbing into the pillow; sometimes she would throw a tantrum, screaming and throwing things around her, sometimes even hitting herself.

How he hated that room! She had kept it the same as it was years ago, when Greagoir took their boy into the Tower. He hated the it; a loathsome place that was stealing his wife from him, draining her life like a demon. Perhaps if he destroyed it, if he burnt everything in it, they could become close once again. But he was too much of a coward. All he could do was to watch her helplessly from a distance, a ruined memory of a life they once had, that would never come back.

He knew, of course, that all of the guards and servants snickered behind his back, but he didn't care. He was paying them a nice sum of money to keep quiet, to turn away when they saw or heard her during her nightly wanderings.

"Nooooooooo!"

Eamon frowned. Something was wrong. In all these years, she only gave wordless shrieks of rage and hate. Had one of the servants decided to mock her? He started running, swearing to himself that if anyone had hurt her, he would kill the bastard with his own hands.

oOo

"So, you do not like my redecorations? That hurts my feelings. I was trying so hard."

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" Isolde tried to recognize the voice, but she was almost certain she had never heard it before. The stranger was dressed in the armour of the guards, but why would a guard do something this horrible?

Not one thing was spared. Little clothes cut to pieces; covers torn off of books, the pages thrown all across the room. Toys broken and disfigured; even the pillows and the blankets ripped, feathers spilling out of them like streams of white blood.

"Because someone has to," the intruder said calmly.

"I will have you hanged for this," she hissed. "Eamon will–"

"Die tonight, right after I'm done with you."

Her eyes widened in horror as she watched him come closer. Too late, she turned away to flee, but the guard jumped at her, throwing her to the ground. She desperately tried to crawl away, to get up, but a hard boot stomped on her back and pinned her to the ground.

But maybe there was still a chance–she heard steps; yes, someone was running this way, she would be saved! The door burst open and she wept in relief.

"Isolde!"

She looked up at scared face of her husband. "Eamon!" she sobbed. "Help-"

oOo

Humming contentedly, the murderer pulled off the guard armour, used the bathroom to wash away any trace of blood, and put on more normal clothes. No need to hurry; the two guards supposed to patrol this part of the castle were now at the bottom of Lake Calenhad. It was their own fault for working for those corrupted defectors. The armour soon joined his original owner in the lake, too.

Good job. Quick and neat and oh, so satisfying. Now, who should be the next one? Perhaps it would be better to postpone the visit to Denerim for some time… after tonight, there would be too many guards everywhere. Never mind. The order was not important and there were still many to choose from.

The fun was just beginning.