the anari

ARIADNA

It was not even midday yet, and already Ariadna was fed up with how her day had gone so far. She did not greet the other men within the institute, as they sat around on dark red couches with mugs of ale and pipes in their mouths, either playing a game of cards or entertaining themselves with checkers. Her boots tapped against the polished stone floor as she marched past the others inside, her silver hair flowing behind her. What she wanted more than anything was to just pack her bags and leave the institute, to deal with her own victims whom she needed to get her own personal revenge on. There was her father, her sister, and maybe even the entire convent of priestesses living in Aphur, who had made her life hell.

     Above her, a heavy chandelier cast colourful specks of candlelight across the floor and up the pillars lining the grand hall of the institute. Expensive grey rugs had been strewn across the floor of the seating areas, complementing the sofas on which assassins and thieves alike sat on. It was strange to see the men who called themselves murderers and cheats laughing and joking around with their brothers-in-arms, like normal citizens who earned an honest living. But these men were far from honest, and Ariadna was no better than any of them.

     “Whatever you have left to say, tell me later.” Ariadna called out to Vinn as he followed her still, down the corridor to where her bedroom was. She sent the door to her room slamming in his face, causing him to retreat a few steps back. She locked the door quickly before he had the chance to enter. Leaning her head against the frame of it, Ariadna gathered her thoughts into one and flailed her arms about in an angry fit. A note on her oak desk caught the girl’s eye, and she tossed her gloves down beside it before grabbing the piece of paper to read it. The message was simple, meditate. Ariadna scrunched the paper up in one hand and dropped it back down onto her desk. “Oberon.” she muttered.

     Oberon Nhibrai was the eldest of the inhabitants within the institute, with thirty-two years to his name. Anyone who had been older was already dead and buried, not from old age, but rather from missions gone awry that had cost them their lives. Betrayal always came at a terrible price. Everyone had thought Oberon would take over the role as Head of the Institute before Vinn, but he had not wanted it. He was modest like that. He believed he was not leader material and that such a responsibility should go to someone who wanted the role enough.

     There came a knock at the door.

     “Fuck off.” Ariadna yelled out as a way of greeting. She busied herself with clearing away all the crap she had lying around on her desk; a task which she was notoriously good at putting off.

     The knock came again moments later.

     Ariadna tightened her grip on the pile of papers she held in her hand and blew a strand of silver hair out of her face. “I said-” she began.

     “Young Miss Vikander, I had heard you the first time. Open this door, damn you.” Oberon’s voice made its way past the wooden barrier of the bedroom door.

     Ariadna gathered the scrunched-up note in her hand again and rushed to unlock the door. As soon as she pulled it open, the note went flying towards Oberon’s face, and he closed his eyes in time to avoid a near potential paper cut to his eye.

     “I see you’re in a fine mood today.” he remarked. He let himself inside and closed the door behind him.

     Ariadna jumped onto her bed and crossed her legs over. “Every time you try to get me to do anything spiritual or religious, I feel like gauging your eyes out. Do you know that?” she asked him.

     Oberon laughed at that and joined her on the bed. “No. You change your threats every time you make them, so this is new. I will hazard a guess and say you had tortured yourself with another viewing of the procession of priestesses?” he replied.

     A long pause from Ariadna was answer enough.

     “Why don’t you join the rest of us for dinner tonight, seeing as you never do? It’ll get your mind off the priestesses you seem to obsess over so much.” Oberon said.

     Ariadna rolled over onto her stomach and buried her face into her cover for a moment, moaning into it in response. She lifted her head to look back at him. “I’d rather scorch my face in a fire than sit with any of those men downstairs. They’re all as dull and unappealing as the virgin priestesses themselves.” she said with a childish huff, and then dropped back down onto the bed.

     Oberon ruffled Ari’s hair just to annoy her more. “Dinner will be at seven today. I hope I’ll see you then.” having said all he needed to, he left her to brood in private some more.

     Once he had left, Ariadna made life difficult for herself by attempting to remove the leather jacket she wore over her fighting gear whilst laying down. She rolled from one side, freed one arm and then rolled over to free the other. She was in one of her lazy, angry moods. She didn’t want to do anything other than stay in bed with a tray of fine food at her fingertips and the company of a few candles. Maybe even a handsome young gentleman too, who did not live in the same building as her.

     Ariadna’s act of rebellion at sixteen did not go down well with the Sisters at the Convent in Aphur. They had wanted to stone Ariadna to death for her ‘mortal sin’. And they would have, had she not been capable enough of plotting a successful grand escape all by herself. The assassin threw her leather jacket aside and raised her hands towards her head, hoping to remove the rest of her clothes laying down. She spied the small marking on her right wrist and froze at the sight of it. The marking had meant nothing to her. It looked like a random circle with squiggles which carried no significance. She stared at it in silence. “Fucking Sisters of Aphur. Bloody idiots, in their stupid robes and with their stupid markings.” she eventually whispered under her breath.

     The Sisters at the Convent of Aphur had marked her when she was ten years old, symbolising her ‘great’ achievement of becoming a sister after three years of training–she was expected to remain a virgin priestess for as long as she lived. The excitement which had emanated off the elders had not met its match in Ariadna, and she had hated the next five years that had followed being marked.

     She had only felt at home after coming across The Anari and their formidable Institute. She felt that here, at least the burning anger and hate she felt for all those who had wronged her now had a place somewhere. She had won her way into the institute, with a little luck and a lot of charm. Now, at twenty years old, she had realised her bargain with Vinn had come at an unfair price.

     The Anari had never had a woman in their midst, not because they did not agree with a female assassin or thief, but because no woman had ever dared to step out of her way and approach them. Until a scrawny, fifteen-year-old Ariadna had appeared on their doorstep.

     Vinn had agreed to let Ari join The Anari, only because he could tell how much of a keen interest she had in the art of combat and other forms of insanity like weaponry and warcraft. So she had thought.

     Once she had turned eighteen, that was when Ariadna had to uphold the other half of her agreement with Vinn. It had never been a secret that Ariadna was a beautiful young thing. And Vinn had been attracted to the woman she had become, and her new air of confidence.

     However, over the years she had sneaked her way around the agreement, and on occasions, she got away with not being used by Vinn to his heart’s content. That did not mean Ariadna did not like sleeping with him. In fact, the nights he called her to his bed, Ariadna felt excited to do what the Sisters had wanted to condemn her for, without the fear of punishment. Ariadna had been no stranger to sex. Whilst she did not love Vinn, nor did she believe him to love her either, she never felt freer than when in his bed, especially since there was never anyone standing over her and judging her for having control of her own body. She was her own person and he accepted that, despite his constant desire for her. Ariadna gave the mark on her wrist a final glance, and then rose from her bed to find Vinn.