AN: We've finally added a new character to the mix! Jess and I eventually got to the point where we knew we couldn't sustain the narrative without adding in the other characters...and honestly, I think I just didn't know where next to take Iago's arc, so I just spawned a Cassio. The end justifies the means, as they say.

The weak rays of dawn sunshine kissed the smooth cheeks of the young lieutenant Michael Cassio as he exited through the wide, barred doors of the guardhouse, nodding to the weary sentries as he passed. Those rays seemed to promise something, seemed portents of good in his life, and he reveled in the thought. Although...perhaps he was merely imposing his own good fortune upon the day. After all, he had this high position, and felt no ill effects from his previous night, spent in the company of the fair caitiff Bianca and her illicit supply of excellent Florentine wine...it was simple to say that all was well in his world.

Perhaps the same could not be said of the sentries at the door, who no doubt wanted nothing more than to return to their barracks for respite, but their well-being was no concern of his at present. At any rate, they could hardly fare worse than that ancient with the Spaniard's name that he had glimpsed in the halls...Iago. That was it. He had looked quite the worse for wear: hair and clothes in disarray, eyes ringed with black, hands bloodied and scraped, expression vacant and morose as he had entered the general's office. One had to wonder what he had been doing ere his arrival to make him appear in such a state...

Sauntering into the courtyard, Cassio pushed his thoughts of the man firmly out of his mind; how Iago spent his nights was no concern of his, either. Still, those musings came abruptly back to him upon sighting a similarly disheveled figure, standing forlorn in the yard. Long, thick, dark curls tumbled freely down a narrow back, and pale hands clutched at an unadorned, damp handkerchief, which was held close to the face (so he thought) and was mysteriously stained with green. The gown, too, was rather plain, and looked quite familiar...Cassio was sure he had seen it before...

It was the ancient's wife, he realized, somewhat taken aback. But what did she here? Did her appearance have aught to do with her husband's strange behavior?

"How now, gentle mistress?" he called, offering her a smile, though she did not see it, turned away from him as she was. "Emilia, is it not? What do you here alone?"