Title: Murderer's Touch

Author: I_nv_u50

Rating: PG13

Disclaimer/Claimer: Characters and plot mine, world isn't.

Warning: Slash!! Whee!!

Author's Notes: Hmm… Don't expect this fast paced chapter uploading to last forever… I'll keep at it as long as I can, but I'm probably gonna dry out eventually O.o; Ah well… so long as I can, I'm striking while the iron is hot :D

etcetera-cat  ~  Heh. No, Kylan's not really evil…. He's just really ambitious… Sorta . there's a lot more to him than meets the eye – of course. What a cliché XD But at least he's a cool one O.o;;;;

The Golden Dragon  ~  Thanks ^^ Glad you like it ^^ Don't worry, I wanna know what happens just as much as you do – I don't plan on stopping ^^;

Fireblade  ~  Uh oh = my thoughts exactly XD

And now… Chapter 3!! Read, enjoy and please review!! ^^

Strangely enough, Kylan was perfectly content to let the Herald take his hand. It was comforting in a way, right in another. What bothered him more was the way that the King and the other Herald were staring at him, watching him with consternation, their expressions resembling that of stunned sheep.

"What?" he asked abruptly, looking around curiously. He felt safer all of a sudden, and judging by the way the others were staring at him like he was some kind of freak, it was better than being glared at.

Brynn turned slowly to face him. Kylan lifted his eyes suspiciously to the other young man's face and froze.

There was an unidentifiable emotion in there, underneath the amazement and stunned sheep expression, something that warmed Kylan to his core; something that he felt that he had never felt before. Automatically, he distrusted it. How could anything that promised to be so good, so loving show in the Herald's face like that and still be real?

He pulled away, ignoring the sudden iciness of loneliness that crept through him, ignored the flicker of hurt in Brynn's face before it disappeared completely.

"What happened?" Kylan asked the room again, directing his question at no specific person but seeking an answer anyway.

"Brynn," breathed the King, his voice deceptively calm, ignoring Kylan completely. "Lifebonded? To him? Are you sure?"

Kylan stared at the king blankly, feeling confused and not liking it. "What's wrong with me? And what's lifebonded?"

Brynn paled and swung around on his heels to face the other two Heralds, who immediately looked more sympathetic.

Kylan stepped away again, insulted and annoyed, scowling with the frustration of knowing that everybody knew what was going on but him. It sounded important though, and he felt he had a right to know before he died. They could at least grant him that kindness, whether he deserved it or not.

"Could you at least tell me before you kill me?" he said sharply, ignoring Brynn's start that was almost a flinch.

Astral eyed him with consideration, making Kylan fidget reflexively. The King's Own watched him silently, and then turned to the King. "We can't kill him now."

"No," Solas agreed reluctantly. "I guess not. What else can we do with him though? Most of the Heralds and Companions will hate him, if not all. Except for Brynn. The others wont understand immediately. What can we do?"

"I can hear you, you know." Kylan snapped, impatient and not feeling terribly grateful. "I'm still in the room. Why aren't you going to kill me?"

Solas merely blinked at him, staring past him into the distance, and continued talking, not paying the slightest bit of attention to what Kylan had said. "Technically, we should show some hospitality, but he has killed a Herald for no good reason."

"I'll take him," Brynn said quietly, and Kylan glanced over at him, resenting the fact that he was a burden. He had lived on the streets for more than a few years, he knew how to take care of himself. He didn't like being dependent on someone, not even someone who felt as close and as right as Brynn did. Although, Kylan considered silently as he studied the older boy, feeling the way he felt about the Herald was even more reason to be suspicious.

Brynn shot him an unreadable look and continued. "We can put him under house arrest in my suite. He wont go anywhere without me or Devoni, and if we leave the capital on business, he'll come too."

Kylan blinked, only absorbing half of this. House arrest? That was fine with him, with the only alternative being dying, but he still wanted to know why his sentence had been retracted. He folded his arms across his chest, ignoring the slight discomfort that the stained and dirtied clothes gave him when he moved. "Tell me," he ordered, as demandingly he could. "Tell me something. Why aren't you killing me anymore?"

The King glanced at him, intense dislike on his face, but he appeared to be making an effort to hide it, which only bewildered Kylan more.

"You'll find out later." The King said simply, then looked at Brynn again, as if Kylan was too disgusting to look at for too long.

Kylan scowled at his feet, sulking. Stupid Heralds. Them and their stupid codes of honor, with their stupid secretive ways. He cursed them in his head, pretending not to notice the tinge of guilt that filtered through his mind as he thought about what he had done. Still not paying attention to the conversation the Heralds were having around him, he uncrossed his arms tentatively and stared at his hands, frowning thoughtfully.

The blood had run down his wrists, he remembered, and splattered onto his forearms, dirtying his only set of work clothes, almost the entire choice of clothes he had. He didn't get paid a lot for what he did, and didn't get paid at all when he killed for the adrenaline rush that made it fun. Neither had they asked him to kill the damn Herald so soon, so he would be in trouble if ever they found him, as they surely would. The Heralds would not be quiet about him. They were only human, after all, and if their Companions, supposedly one of their main influences, hated him as well what hope did he have?

Struggling to battle off a sense of acute despair, he had a few moments to wish they hadn't withdrawn his death sentence. Dying honorably, without torture, was the best was he could hope to die now. The Heralds wouldn't be kind, and he foresaw a great many difficulties in that way…

But if they ever caught him… They'd take him somewhere where no one would hear the screams.

Kylan shivered, trying to ease himself of the sudden sense of foreboding, and when he looked up from his hands, the Heralds were watching him. He stared back as impassively as he could, smirking when they exchanged uneasy looks.

"Let's get you cleaned up before we go to bed," Brynn said softly, and something in Kylan eased away with the calmness in the tone. Upset by the ease at which it had happened, he fought valiantly to bring it back, trusting the more familiar emotion over the one that Herald Brynn made him feel.

He tore his hand away when Brynn made to take it, scowling at the taken aback expression on the Herald's face. "You can show me the way, but you don't have to lead me like I'm helpless," Kylan spat out, and whirled on his heels, walking out the door before Brynn could reply.

He waited for a few moments outside the door, but when the voices started up again, sighed in irritation. He debated with himself on whether he should wait for the Herald or not, knowing it wasn't the brightest of ideas to go off alone in a Palace that he didn't know, where everybody wanted to kill him.

Or nearly everybody, Kylan amended; surprised and confused by the sudden leap of defense his mind took for Brynn. He didn't think that particular Herald wanted him dead. That was strange, because it had, initially, been Brynn who had found him, had been Brynn's best friend whom he had murdered.

He scowled at nothing in his confusion, and jumped in surprise at the light hand resting on his shoulder. "Let's go," Brynn told him quietly, and moved in front, not even looking back to make sure Kylan was following.

Kylan followed mutinously, not at all comfortable with his sudden wish to be with Brynn. The walk was long and winding, corridors and hallways ensuring that he stayed close to Brynn for fear of being lost. While otherwise it might have fascinated him, this up close and personal view of the Palace, now it just brought home the fact of how very peculiar his life suddenly seemed to be.

He followed Brynn down an out-of-the way hallway, where Heralds could be seen through the few open doors there were. None looked up at either his or Brynn's passing, and Kylan felt strangely thankful of this, not wanting more attention to be drawn to himself.

Brynn stopped outside a doorway that seemed equally similar to the others in the hall and opened it, standing back to let Kylan go in first.

Kylan glanced at him curiously, warily, and stepped slowly into the room, taking in the big bed, the wardrobe, and the already lit fire with a single smooth glance.

Then he turned to Brynn, who was shutting the door behind him, and put his hands on his hips, facing the Herald with the most serious expression he could muster, trying to make it demanding at the same time. "All right. Now tell me. Why aren't they going to kill me?"

Brynn eyed him carefully, then went forward to sit in one o the armchairs by the fire. He didn't answer immediately, and when the silence seemed to drag on for too long, Kylan made an impatient noise. "Tell me!" he demanded, his voice rising slightly, almost hysterically. He clamped his mouth shut tightly, his own eyes wide at the outburst. He had to get out before he lost it. He couldn't afford to lose it in front of this Herald, whose opinion inexplicably meant so much to him.

Kylan spun around and darted through one of the doors that didn't lead back into the hallway, disregarding Brynn's voice calling him back.

Kylan stumbled over a step he hadn't realized was there, and landed flat on his stomach, all the breath knocked out of him, his heart pounding loudly in his head.

He didn't bother picking himself up, not when he could hear the Herald coming up slowly behind him. What he did was breathe in deeply through his nose, smelling damp soil, feeling the walkway ending under his stomach. His hands were starting to burn, and he had no doubt that they were scraped up badly, prickling fire tingling in his palms and on the heels of his hands.

It was no surprise to Kylan when hands that were firm yet strangely gentle reached down and grabbed his shoulders, hauling him to his feet again. He stood in front of Brynn, examining his feet in the dim light that filtered through the now open doorway.

He said the first words that came to mind. "It leads outside."

"Yes." Brynn's voice was gentle as well, deceptively tender, and Kylan wondered what it meant. He sniffed.

"Can we go back inside?"

There was a short silence, then Brynn moved out of the way, letting Kylan walk past him silently, slowly. He shut the door behind them, and Kylan avoided his gaze.

"Would you like to clean up?"

Kylan nodded, his thoughts racing, each of them conflicting. He didn't understand. They were supposed to kill him, he was meant to be in gaol now, or even dead. Why weren't they? Would they kill him later? Make him die knowing the humiliation of trusting people whom he shouldn't have? Laugh at him as he died, pointing him out as the stupid one who had trusted where he shouldn't have? Or… and this thought was impossible, because it went against everything Kylan had ever been taught, had ever learnt on his own.

Were they being serious? Did they trust him and expect him to trust him back? Had some important thing happen that made him exactly what they needed at the moment?

He shivered under the intensity of his own thoughts, and shuffled across the room to where Brynn was silently holding a door open, waiting for him. He just didn't understand.

And Brynn… Brynn was probably the most confusing thing about this whole mess, him and the way he made Kylan want to curl up in his arms, an idea which was as utterly ridiculous as it was stupid.

Brynn walked into the bathroom after him, stopping within a step of the door. "There's the tub. The towels are over there. I'll try and get you some clean clothes, all right? Do you have any particular preferences?"

Kylan shook his head, his eyes wide as he tentatively touched a finger to the water. It was warm. He blinked, then looked back at Brynn, who was about to leave. "Why isn't it cold?" he asked curious.

Brynn looked at him over his shoulder. "They brought some hot water while I was taking you through the Palace. We went the long way so no one would see you, and Astral guessed that you would like a bath."

Kylan blinked, surprised yet again at the unexpected thoughtfulness. He wanted to scream out his confusion, protest that he was a murderer and shouldn't be treated like this, but he didn't, he didn't, because somewhere inside of him he almost liked it. Almost liked the feeling of safeness he got when around Brynn, almost liked the feeling of being thought of enough to actually have warm water for a bath, with servants who brought it.

Brynn watched him quietly, then gave a small smile, one that Kylan couldn't really see the happiness in. "I'll go see if I can get you some clothes. Try and get rid of the blood… and wash your hair if you can."

Kylan sneered in reply, trying to hide the sudden flush that he knew was there because of the sudden heat in his cheeks. Not understanding why he was flushing was a big part of the problem.

"Why?" he asked quietly, not knowing what he was questioning, nor did he know the reason for questioning it.

Brynn paused again at the door. "I'll explain some of it to you afterwards. I'll order something to eat as well, and we can talk while we eat."

Before Kylan could get over his astonishment at the kindness everyone's attitudes seemed to have taken for him, Brynn had closed the door, and he was left alone with a tubful of warmish hot water.

Well. He didn't need to be told what to do.