This sleep was like the thick mud he'd waded through so many times to get from his Naval ship onto the shore of enemy territory. He could hear his boots squelch, felt the sucking of the knee-deep muck. He slithered quietly through the waist-high weeds that attached to the first steps of solid ground, and could feel his soldiers around him as they moved into position. He knew that, nearby, his tool – 'No' he thought forcefully, 'She isViolet, now...' – crept beside him in the darkness, just awaiting his word for attack. She had her large, silver battle ax at the ready, and her liquid blue eyes glowed with her own ferocity.
They had surrounded the enemy camp. Most of the soldiers slept within their tents, unaware of their impending doom. A few sentries stood across the parameter, but they felt safe. This location was supposed to be hidden, here on this tiny island rumored to be haunted. The landscape provided total privacy, and the legend surrounding the place added to its appeal for the soldiers. Dietfried glanced at Violet as he held up an arm. All of his soldiers had eyes on him, and she was no exception. She reminded him of a leopard queen, ready to crush something in her powerful jaws, her body lithe -little more than muscle and sinew. She had mud splattered across her face from their trek to this location, her hair wind-blown, and it all added to her wild appearance.
He lowered his arm, and they all moved in.
It wasn't long before the camp erupted in screams, the sounds of death, and the groans of the dying. Violet charged forward and had slaughtered several people, but in her rush to kill she did not see the tell tale signs of a pit trap just in front of her. Dietfried shouted at her to watch out, but she either did not hear or did not realize he was speaking to her. He darted forward with a curse, lunged, landing on his stomach with his arm outstretched, only just managing to catch her by her uniform top on her way down into the belly of the pit. She dangled there with a blank expression that unnerved him, turning just her head to look back at him rather than the spikes of possible demise below her. He wasn't sure if she trusted him so completely that she was not nervous, or if she did not give a damn about life.
He hoisted her back over the edge and threw her to safety just as an enemy appeared above him with sword raised. He rolled out of the way of its strike, but received a cut on his right hip from the dodge. The delay to save Violet had cost him, but he found the price worth paying. He didn't get the chance to pay back the blow, because Violet's ax was swiftly embedded into the soldier's skull. The body fell, and she recovered her weapon without hesitation, then she was off to the next victim.
She was like a war goddess, bestowed on him to ensure his victory.
Dietfried turned, sword upraised, as he engaged in further battle. Movement to his right caught his attention, and he saw Jefferies fighting there. As he felled an enemy, Dietfried saw him watched the girl with a lustful gleam in his eyes, and Dietfried made a mental note to never allow them to be alone together. It was in that moment that Dietfried started to plan Violet's transfer to Gilbert.He wasn't the only one who had noticed, because Zilly made a frustrated sound and stepped into Jefferies' line of sight, thus blocking Violet from his gaze. He snarled at her, and she made as sassing movement with her hand and hip.
"Trust me, that did not go well for the last crew," she snipped at Jefferies. "Keep your mind on the battle and out of your pants."
The dream sort of paused in that moment of war. Their bodies just seemed to stop moving: even those falling down, lifeless. Only Dietfried and Jefferies seemed unaffected by this eerie stillness. The two men looked at each other, and a fierce, mad smile transfigured Jefferies' face into something wicked indeed. Dietfried watched the change with mounting horror, and knew that something terrible was about to spill from that grotesque expression.
"That was the only reason I needed," Jefferies hissed, his eyes catching the blaze of the camp fire nearby. "As soon as the opportunity arose, I set her up to be in the middle of that god-forsaken battle. Then… I tied her to the mast and sent her sailing to her fiery doom and watery grave." As he told that story, Dietfried could practically see the memory in his dark eyes: Zilly fighting, her ship abandoned by Jefferies' design, he attacks her and ties her to the mast and steers her toward her blazing end, her eyes staring at him in accusatory rage while her men spin a tale of her heroics to cover up the murder. 'It was as I thought…,' Dietfried pondered as the truth shook him. 'She'd had plenty of time to abandon ship, after all…'
"I get what I want, Bougainvillea," Jefferies proclaimed, his voice darkening to a gravely snarl. "And what I want, is to play with that tool until its broken and bleeding, and then I'm going to kill it." The vision faded into darkness. The chiming sound of sword against sword echoed in the stillness. Blood splattered onto Dietfried's face, and Violet screamed in pain.
Dietfried jerked upright, instantly awake, but his wounds protested the sudden use of his muscles. Sweat dripped off of him, his heart thudding in a thunderous dance within his chest. It usually took much more than a nightmare to spook him, but there was something so...real about the whole thing. There was a deep foreboding in his gut, and he was sure that he needed to check the Navy records and figure out if Jefferies was stationed anywhere near Zilly's last battle.
Before he could rationalize himself out of it, he called Griff, who greeted him like an old friend in a cheerful demeanor. Dietfried filled him in, then advised him to proceed with the investigation with supreme caution and subtlety, to tell only those he absolutely trusted. Griff was somber as he agreed: he had liked Zilly, as most of his crew had. "...And Griff?," Dietfried added just as they were closing up the conversation. "...Please be careful. Watch your back, and call me if you need backup." Griff agreed, and then Dietfried hung up, deciding to complete some business paperwork next.
When he entered his office, Dietfried found himself too frazzled to focus on anything. He would start to read a document, then his mind would wander. Occasionally he would find himself pacing the rooms, hands clasped behind his back, mind whirling. When he startled out of his thoughts, he would reach up to run his hands through his hair, but would freeze when he felt the shortness of it. The action wound ground him enough to sit and pretend he'd decided to dedicate his time to true progress, but he would eventually give way, and fall into his thoughts of the past.
The truth of the matter was, when Dietfried was growing into a man, Jefferies had acted as more of a father figure to him than the head of the Bougainvillea household ever tried to be. It had been him that explained the wiles of women, supported him when he was nursing a wounded heart, showed him how to celebrate life and all of its sorrows, and him who Dietfried spent the day with while his own father's funeral was occurring. He'd chosen the Navy, some part due to the desire to blaze his own trail and not utilize his family name to progress, and the other part because Jefferies had inspired him to the Navy's cause.
But Dietfried saw Jefferies differently when Violet came into his life…. Dietfried remembered showing Violet to Jefferies for the first time, and how intrigued the man had been to learn of her unmatched killing abilities. He was with him as Jefferies crafted the tale to the upper brass, and he was there was Jefferies insisted that Dietfried do extensive field testing for the tool. He had completely trusted the man then, and had even taken on the dehumanization of Violet from him…. Dietfried remembered watching her every move, being overly cautious to ensure she never was behind him, where she could attack him. He had been terrified of her.
Then, he remembered the only battle that he'd ever lost. He hesitated to call it a battle: it was more of a massacre. Violet had not been at that battle: she'd surely be dead if she had been. So terrible were their odds…. Zilly had forced him away from his dead men, he remembered the first severe bouts of PTSD that he'd had when he'd returned. So many blood-soaked night terrors he'd endured…. But the first one had to have been the worst of all.
He'd awoken, sweating and terrified. Violet had been there, and she stared at him, her head cocked sideways. She recognized this was unusual behavior, but she did not understand. He didn't know for sure that she would even understand, but he told her of the horror of the battle. She did not react, beyond setting up to guard him through the night. He hadn't expected anything of her, yet she sacrificed a night of sleep so that he could relax once more.
That thought led to more as his memories swirled, and Dietfried was fully lost to them.
The night was dark, and Dietfried's sleep was deep. Still, when Violet's small hand touched his shoulder, he snapped awake in an instant. He scanned the tent for signs of danger or intrusion, but found nothing, then he looked to her. She placed a finger over her lips, her other hand hanging at her side holding her battle ax. The sound of footsteps approached, and there was determination within the soft thud of soles hitting the ground. Violet hid behind the flaps to the tent, and Dietfried waited.
It wasn't long before a man entered the tent, and Dietfried could see the whites of his eyes flashing in the dim light. The rest of his features were hidden in the darkness. Dietfried sat up in his cot, glad he'd slept in his uniform. He always felt more confident when he had on pants and needed to face someone down. His lance was always in bed with him, and he had a sword propped up on the softness of the tent wall an arm's length away. It would appear as if he were unarmed, and he could take the intruder by surprise should he mean harm.
Dietfried spoke into the silence, his grim whisper seeming to echo loudly in the tent. "State your business," he said, strands of danger and warning in his voice.
The man tensed, startled, then came forward to kneel by his bedside. "Sir, there have been reports of a woman wandering the camp. She wears the typical garb of the Agassi Assassins. We think you-" Something tore through the tent, then, and a small projectile landed in the neck of his soldier. There was a terrible gargling sound, then the man fell into a seizure and promptly died right there on the ground. "Poisoned dart," Dietfried whispered to Violet, but when he looked up she was missing. He cursed, grabbed his lance, and darted out of the tent. He hissed for her to return, but received no reply. He skittered through the darkness, headed for the direction the dart had been thrown from, but found nothing there.
He heard a skirmish in the trees, then a distinct 'thud', followed by the sound of something being dragged through the underbrush. Moments later, Violet emerged from the bushes, dragging the body of the assassin behind her small form. Unconscious or dead, Dietfried couldn't tell in the darkness of night. He stood, amazed, as he watched her approach him. She looked like a war goddess let loose. Her eyes were so bright under the light of the moon, as if she had captured its light and claimed it for her own. He stood, frozen, as she awaited for him to decide what do to with the assassin, unable to think of anything save her.
So many times, he'd seen her approach with dread in his stomach and hate in his heart, but that was the first moment he'd looked into her eyes, and hadn't seen the death of his crew members on that fateful island. That might have been the moment he'd fallen in love with her. Dietfried couldn't help but think that would be a ridiculous moment to recount to family. He could just imagine someone asking for the story of how they fell in love, and the looks on their face when he told them of that moment. Awkward….
The next battle was the one where they attacked the camp in the night, where he'd rescued her from the pit trap, and he'd seen Jefferies' lust for Violet. He puzzled over what he could do to keep her safe the whole next night, and was grateful to receive a missive advising of Gilbert's promotion to Major the next morning. He was granted time off for the officiating of his brother's title, and he knew what he'd had to do.
Realizing he was getting nothing done, Dietfried looked to the clock only to see that it was once more bed time. He'd wasted the whole day. Dismayed, he went to bed, only to awaken the next morning feeling flustered as he agonized over the possibility of Jefferies' insanity. Dietfried again decided to work of some steam in his office. He made quick work of prepping for the day, then strode down the corridor with his guts in a knot. Troubled as he was, he did not realize the door to his study was closed, when he had last left it open. He utterly failed to realize that this change could not have possibly been due to the waitstaff's recent entry nor exit since it was barely yet dawn, and they had not yet arrived for the workday. It wasn't until he discovered a surprise on his desk that he forced himself into the mental state where this type of clarity was possible. Then, he came to all of the above realizations, and recognized someone had been in the room when this fact was as obvious as his nose. On the center of his desk there was a plain piece of paper with no writing on it, only a wax seal stamped in the center of the page. He frowned and picked it up, examining it further. He gasped, eyes widening in recognition. The next moments had him running full tilt toward C.H. Postal Company.
KJ had just stepped up to the door to knock when Dietfried threw the door open and came charging out. KJ gave a startled shout, but reflexes kicked in as they crashed into each other. KJ grabbed Dietfried's waist, and when Dietfried realized they were headed toward the stairs with terrible force, he used his momentum to throw them into a sideways twist that left them both on the ground on their sides, but otherwise unharmed at the base of the stairs. KJ released him with a breathless laugh. "Well, good morning…."
"Nice reflexes," Dietfried said, jumping to his feet and helping up his friend, then he was running for his car. "Get in, now!" KJ followed him, puzzled, yet there was no hesitation to his obedience. "What has you so excited?," KJ asked, closing the car door.
"The seal of the Secret Service!," Dietfried half-shouted, but that was just a jumble of words to KJ, who quietly went along with his friend. He'd find out, he supposed, what the fuss was about…. Within moments, they were whirling into a parking area and bursting through C.H. Postal's doors. In a full run, Dietfried's feet took him straight to Violet's room. He didn't bother knocking, he just burst in to find her standing by the window, thankfully clothed. He dashed in, grabbed her hand, and started hauling her down the hallway. She glanced at KJ, who shrugged, and following after them.
"Dietfried, what…?" Violet started, then they were running, and she couldn't finish her question. They burst as a group into Claudia's office, where the red-headed bastard sat behind his desk, calmly talking to the man before him. Dietfried skidded to a halt, staring at the back of the man that seemed so familiar. He'd seen it so many times over the years, and knew it better than his own. He had seen those shoulders as a gangly child, and he'd watched that back broaden into a man's width and strength. Now, there was an extra heaviness to the set of those shoulders he hadn't seen before, and something about the way he stood made Dietfried think his right arm was heavier than the left.
The truth was unmistakable: this man before them was none other than Gilbert Bougainvillea. And Claudia didn't even seem surprised. There was a terrible twisting in Dietfried's stomach, and he moved out from the door to the back of the room, keeping himself far from the room's two inhabitants. Violet and KJ followed him in, and he heard Violet gasp.
"Gilbert!," KJ called happily, dashing forward to pound on that back with affection. "Good to see you, buddy." Gilbert looked over at him, and nodded reservedly. "Hello, KJ," he said softly, his voice as smooth and gentle as it had always been. Violet looked at Gilbert's back, her expression stricken. She looked at Dietfried, who looked between KJ and Gilbert with confusion. She watched him become startled, and that expression sharpened to shock, which collapsed into bitter certainty, then lit up with firey anguish that hardened to anger. She was amazed at the amount of raw emotion he managed to pour into his voice when he said: "Gil."
Gilbert tensed, a slow tightening in the muscles of his back, then -slowly- he turned around. Violet felt trapped in the moment, frozen to the place her feet had planted. She saw him turn to her, but he only acknowledged her with a guarded expression and a brief glance, before moving on to Dietfried. There was an eye patch over his right eye now, and a weariness around the edges of his eyes. The brothers stood there, tension flowing between them. The barest relieved smile tugged up the edges of Gilbert's mouth. "It's been too long, brother."
An echo of relief flickered across Dietfried's face, then the anger was back to swallow up all else, but even that was flooded over by a dulled mask of blankness. Violet was unable to read that stone-wall face, and she looked back to Gilbert, soaking in his presence. He's alive…. He was alive this whole time, and never said a word. Never let them know…. Her chest felt like it was on fire, with the burn of her emotions. Alive, just as she had made herself no longer accessible to him.
Alive… just when Violet had agreed to try life with him. Grief welled up in Dietfried so fiercely that he could not contain it. Grief, because the happiness he was sure that would be awaiting him tomorrow was snatched away before he could truly glory in its beauty. Despite all of this, his feet were moving of their own accord, and then he was embracing his brother in a most uncommon display of affection. Even if this meant Violet left his side to once more be at Gilbert's… even if his life was about to change forever, he was glad that Gilbert was alive. He wanted to rage at his brother, demanded where the hell he'd been. He wanted to shake him and tell him how hard it'd been without him. He wanted to demand the reason why he'd made them think he was dead…. But he just held his brother, and his heart cried, if not his eyes.
Dietfried's hug was brief. He didn't linger in his brother's arms, suddenly beyond what he could handle. His voice was ragged as he turned to Claudia, betrayal embittering his tongue. "You knew," he accused, and saw the flinch around Claudia's eyes. "And yet, you allowed us to believe…." He gave an abrupt shake of his head, and turned to leave. Violet's hand on his arm stayed him briefly. He addressed Gilbert then, keeping his back turned away from his brother. "I assume there's a good explanation for all of this, and I expect to hear every detail…. Of course, you are welcome in the family estate still, if you don't have somewhere else you've been hovering for nearly five years." His tone darkened. "But right now…. I cannot stomach any of you."
Dietfried left. Violet looked at Gilbert, and was lost for a moment in the color of his one remaining eye. She remembered the job she'd taken on, and knew she needed to advise Dietfried of it. She hesitated only a moment, then ran down the hallway. "Dietfried!," she called out. "Wait!" He paused at the bottom of the stairway, and the raw look in his eyes stole her breath away. She froze, her words fleeing from her mind.
She recognized that there was suddenly a rift open between them, brought on by Gilbert's survival. She could feel it, yet she wasn't sure how to breach it in that one terrible moment. She opened her mouth, but couldn't get sound to emerge. Her throat felt tight, and she felt like crying. There was so much to that look in Dietfried's eyes…. He turned his eyes to the floor so that she couldn't fall into them anymore. "Violet…." Her name was like a memorial on his lips, as if he assumed already that he'd lost her. Then, he was gone, and she was frozen in place.