~Elena~
He shouldn't have come. I thought sullenly as we walked together amongst the weary people. A few eyes strayed, either feeling the barely concealed monster howling at the edge of my mind, or taking note of the man chattering beside me. I'd long ago stopped listening, instead focusing my attention on keeping my dark thoughts from slipping to violent.
"A brothel? What business do we have at a brothel?" Tyrion asked, catching my attention. I hadn't realized we arrived. Get your head together. I scolded, looking down at the half-man with masked humor.
"Have you become Tyrion the Prude during your travels?" I asked slyly, remembering a time when women used to call for him. That seemed a whole lifetime ago now.
"No. No, of course not. But-"
"I have business here. You invited yourself. You know where the castle is if you're frightened." I retorted, pushing into the heated room. Something's wrong here. I noted, sensing the tension in the air, and the unmistakable quiet. A hush had fallen over the brothel as eyes looked up and away. A broken sob echoed from the back corner, where I spied Pearl trying to hush a visibly distraught girl with skin like warm earth and eyes this side of ocean blue.
"We should leave." Tyrion spoke urgently, pulling at my sleeve.
"Be quiet." I growled, making the short journey to Pearl.
"What's happened?" I questioned, taking a seat beside the pair. Tyrion stood just behind me, eyeing the brothel nervously. A small yelp proceeded Pearl looking up at me with large desperate eyes.
"Ruby. We think the boss found out about us working for you. He took her in the back room. There was screaming. No one has come out yet. I think he's a gold mask." She explained hurriedly. The girl in her arms began sobbing in earnest, body visibly shaking.
"Sapphire saw them enter the room. Was the first to hear the screams." She explained softly, hugging the girl closer.
"This isn't our problem Elena. If the Sons of Harpy are concerned, we need to tell the council." Tyrion urged once more. Pearl gave me a questioning look.
"This is Kimbel. The Queen's personal jester." I introduced, before turning my glare onto Tyrion the Fool. "Go on jester. Run along, I have more business to handle." I pushed from the table. Fist clenching, while walking towards the pleasure rooms in the back.
It didn't take long to locate the room. The sound of shuffling and a thunderous clash leading me. The door was locked, not unexpected, forcing me to pick the lock, which would cost me precious time. After hearing the lock release, I pushed open the door, quickly stepping to the side, just as a knife sailed through the air, lodging deeply into the wall behind me.
"I figured you would come. Knew you couldn't resist coming to gloat with the whores." A voice hissed. Kill them. Free us. The darkness cackled, nearly driving me to my knees with its passion. I stepped through the door, noting the broken furniture and blood spilled. A great deal of pain had been dealt here, and judging from the man smirking at me, he had felt none of it.
"Boss? No... You shouldn't... Be here." A voice groaned from the other side of the tousled bed. I moved closer, ever so slowly, using only a moment to take my eyes away from the man before me.
"Rosette?"