Delarn knew a man that lived on the fringes of town. He never really was in the same house, but he seemed comfortable in whatever home he managed to find whether it was an actual house or a series of crates stacked together.
"My name? Call me...I don't know. What do you want to call me, squirt?" He laughed, patting Delarn's head. She was like a feral cat, untouchable and often hostile, but there was something foreign about the way he talked to her that made her feel comfortable around him.
"I'm not good at names," she answered.
"Anything," he answered, smiling wide, his light brown eyes not quite reflecting the light, but soft in the sunlight, though not quite golden like hers.
"Sunflower," she blurted.
"Sunflower?" He scoffed, ruffling his messy brown hair. It was shaggy, but not really long. "I think I like that. Sunflower."
He wasn't like the other Zamorakians she had met. He seemed so soft.
"Chaos doesn't have to be violence," he told her, and she smiled widely. Something was comforting about that. "It's about change." Things wouldn't be the same forever.
"What do you do?" She asked.
"What do I do for what?" He asked.
"Work, I guess," she replied, scuffing her shoes.
"I do a whole lot of things," he said. "Sometimes I'll catch fish down the way and sell it over yonder in the square. Sometimes I'll get on my hands and knees and beg like a cat. Other times I'll take bets over in the barbarian village, and sometimes I'll win, and other times I'll lose, but I'll always get something to eat by the end of the day."
"So you don't fight with the other Zamorakians? You don't fight the white knights?" She asked.
"Well," he replied after a moment, "there is something I tend to do, but it's more like a game. I know this guy from Falador. You could call him an old friend, but we do this thing where we—well, why don't you come with me? You can see for yourself. We meet on the east side of town this afternoon actually."
"That's awfully convenient," she replied.
"The more you start to realize that all of this is a story that we're living in, the easier life becomes, especially after you know how to interpret the meaning of the literature."
She nodded, her eyes wide, never hearing someone say anything like that before. It sounded almost mad, but she liked it.
"Come along, then," he said, extending his hand. She stared at it for a long time but finally took it. It didn't seem to bother him how she hesitated, and he didn't move until she did take it. Maybe it was because he knew she wanted to, or perhaps it was to take away the choice to refuse.
As they walked, they passed a man that was big and scruffy, and she recognized him as one of the men from the sewer army though he didn't have his armor because they were out in the street.
"What are you doing with the chosen child of Zamorak?" He asked, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Are you going to play some of your games, then? Are you using little girls now?"
"I can't imagine what you're implying, but you can wipe that look off your face," he answered. "Delarn here is my friend."
"Friend?" He spat. "She doesn't have any friends. She's bad luck, and that's all she's good for at the moment. Once she's used up no one will speak up for her then either, and she'll do it to herself too."
"That's how your order speaks about children? Not much of a future for your lot then, but I can't say much for myself either," he laughed lightly, unbothered. "Cruelty isn't chaos. Cruelty is predictable. That's how you can lay her fate out like that. Not that I believe it. Not for a second."
"Do what you want with her," he said. "I don't care if she stays or goes."
Delarn didn't look in his direction as he was talking and didn't speak until he was gone, and when she did speak, it had nothing to do with what he had said as if she didn't know he had been there at all.
"So what is this friend from Falador like?" She asked.
"Well, what would you think someone from Falador to be like?" He asked.
"Tall and straight-backed, like he can't slouch even if he wanted to. Really clean. White in every way," she replied almost immediately.
"Yeah, that's him," he answered with a grin, tousling her hair. "You've got him completely figured out."
She smiled proudly. She felt the kind of pride that she starved for each time he praised her, and she wanted to believe this was only good.
Nonetheless, it was there in the back of her mind. How was he trying to use her? No one she knew would be this nice to her without having a purpose for it. She was sure she just didn't know it yet.
But even so, she was enjoying herself now. Everything was fine now. If anything were to go wrong, she felt confident she could escape it.
They approached the edge of town, and sure enough, a man wearing a finely cut set of white knight armor was waiting there. He had a crossbow in his hand, and he whistled a tune to himself until they drew closer.
He immediately noticed Delarn, saying to his friend, "I didn't know you had a daughter. Did you know?"
"She's not my daughter, Eugin," he answered with a laugh. "She's just a friend of mine. My name is Sunflower today."
"I'm guessing you aren't here to turn yourself in?" He joked. "Not if you're bringing a little girl with you. Or is the little girl turning herself in as well?"
"We're both as innocent as the day we were born," he answered with a warm smile. "Delarn, why don't you go stand to the side?"
The girl nodded, and the knight seemed suddenly uneasy as he waited for her to get to the side. "What did you say her name was?"
"None of your business," Sunflower replied with a cheerful sort of laugh. "Now are we doing this or not?"
"Why don't we add to the bet?" He said carefully. "I'll shoot three of these at you today. If any of them hit you, then I take you both back to Falador. Sound good?"
"And if they don't we don't do this for another three months, instead of one," he countered, not showing his curiosity, but hardly able to imagine why the knight would want a little girl as well.
"That's a deal," he replied, lifting his crossbow and firing it. Delarn sucked in a breath, hardly expecting it. The bolt rang out loudly as Sunflower pulled a knife from his sleeve and made it skid to the side with ease. It bounced in the dirt a bit, and though it didn't come close to Delarn, he wasn't quite content with the trajectory.
"Delarn, dear," he said immediately. "Would you mind moving back a bit? Behind that tree? We're going to do this two more times, and I don't want to risk you getting hurt."
"But what about you?" She replied tensely, expecting him to shoot off another bolt while they were talking, but Eugin seemed just as concerned with her safety, waiting for her.
"We've been doing this for years. It's just a game, and one I'm particularly good at," he answered.
"I would never shoot to kill him," Eugin added, and Sunflower nodded in agreement. She hesitantly went to do what she was told, her feet sliding back and to the side until she was behind the tree, but still able to see around it. It was far back, and so there was little to no chance that it would hit her even when she was peeking around like she was.
The moment they were both certain that she was out of the way, Eugin fired another bolt. He aimed it lower, lower than the dagger could comfortably divert it. With a skillful showing of agility and strength, he leaped gracefully over it.
"You seem particularly desperate this time," he commented loftily, "or did you guess what I would ask for? You could have just told me that you had somewhere to be in the next few months."
"It's nothing for you to worry about," Eugin told him, aiming the crossbow again. This time when he fired it the bolt went past him altogether and hit the ground a few feet behind him. Sunflower grinned at him.
"Were you even trying that time?" He scoffed.
"I thought you might move," he answered, feeling the anticlimactic finish in his stomach.
"Well, that's alright. We can't guess them all, can we?" Sunflower responded, practically gloating. He held up this thumb and two fingers and added, "Remember, three months, and then we'll try again."
"Right, of course," Eugin responded, glancing at Delarn again. Sunflower didn't miss it as he smiled broadly and called out, "Delarn, come along. It's time to go. Say goodbye to the nice knight."
"Your sort won't ever win against the likes of us," Delarn called to him, strangely serious now, and he noticed how she hid behind him and how she was now glaring. It was a strange mixture of experience and innocence, and he didn't know what to say about it so he laughed it off, waved at Eugin, and shuffled her off before he could get a good look at where they were heading.
She didn't realize it at the time, but he was doing his best to keep her out of sight during the months to come. When she wasn't training in the underground, she was with him in the lofts, and exploring abandoned buildings, and talking with old women in the slums. He kept her away from the mainstream areas where a knight would know to look. He didn't know why Eugin was looking for her, but he knew where he was and how he would search and so by the time three months had passed he had convinced him that Delarn was nowhere to be found.
He had also gone to face Eugin in the competition again without her when the three months had passed. Those three months had been the best she had known in quite some time. She was nearly convinced to join him in his lifestyle.
He searched for him the day after, and the day after that, and the day after that, but he was nowhere to be found before she went to battle practice again.
She was distracted as the bulky Zamorakian punched her and knocked her to the side, threatening her bones and organs with each strike. She didn't seem to feel it.
"What were you searching for, Delarn? Your friend?" He scoffed as Delarn's breathing grew more and more ragged and she swabbed the blood from her face.
"Do you know where he is?" She asked, her voice congested.
"He's dead. He died a few days ago. A Saradominist shot him, Delarn. Have you not heard? They bet something, and he lost. The bolt was shot into his heart. They say it would have gone into his shoulder, but he jerked. He moved when he wasn't meant to," he sneered.
Delarn shook her head.
"They say it was over you and he died so that the Saradominist would lose as well. They were brothers, they say. You caused that man to kill his own brother," the man jeered.
He shoved Delarn, punched her, and then shoved her again.
And she found herself blacking out, unresponsive.
There was an audible cracking noise. Again and again. It caved in, and it was so hard to breathe.
Her hands were bloodied. Her eyes were red from crying.
The metal of his armor was dented deep by the time she was finished. He gasped for breath, and it took forever for them to be able to extract him from his armor. Delarn hid after that. She hid for fear of retribution from him and from discovery from the white knights. Her head hurt. All she could recall was him mocking her for punching his armor with her bare fists when she knew it wouldn't hurt him before it had started to cave.
Delarn awoke sobbing loudly, curling herself into a ball and hugging her knees to her chest. "I'm going to be alone forever," she gasped again and again until it didn't sound real anymore. She cried until she fell back to sleep and awoke later and went about her day as if nothing happened.