Quinn can see her shift in her arms, every movement of hers cause a shiver of joy to run through her spine. There's no pleasure to be gained here, nothing but warmth to ward off the winter cold.
However, here was Quinn all the same, her eye intently watching the woman peacefully asleep. One of her hands, pulls a dagger hidden beneath the pillow, it would be so easy to stab her in the neck and let her bleed.
Yet, even just thinking of such a thing makes her flinch away, almost waking Ana in the process before she corrects her behavior. She still slips out, but gently. Once she's free, she can't help but let out a disappointed sigh at their separation, Ana's warmth on her side becoming something normal and desirable to her.
Unfortunately, she can fulfill that wish of her tonight. Even from afar, she can hear the delicate flaps of pigeon wings. A traceable messenger, but far less likely to be intercepted with a human error.
None of her correspondence is stupid enough to send Quinn a missive through them when Quinn's on a mission, though. And while it was true that the bird is intended for Ana, the news from a few acquaintances told Quinn that this fowl originates directly from the palace itself.
Which can only mean one thing: the crown prince is trying to urge her to finish the contract before spring came. Quinn undoubtedly understood why, but she can't find it in herself to murder the woman.
Not now, not after everything they've done and said to each other.
With that thought in mind, she threw the dagger to the pigeon; certain she hits her targets when she heard a soft thud down to the snow. And despite how averse she was to getting sick, she's about ready to leave for the wintry exterior when the promise she has made to Fate itself came due.
The world has considered her behavior to be in direct opposition of her oath, and has chosen to force her to action instead. With movement heavy and stiffs she finds herself on top of Ana, with hands slowly but surely approaching her throat, keen to finish the job.
The entire time, Quinn whispers a protective charm she's not confident will succeed until her hands but an inch away from her marred neck—beautiful in its ways—and Ana open her eyes.
The spell works, then. The powers that inspire her has released her from their grasp, leaving her in the most compromising position one can take in the failure of a murderer.
Already, her mind whirs for a mean to talk herself out of this while her physique stays stiff, allowing Ana to study her unusually frank expression and body postures. And before Quinn can decide what to say next, the woman speaks one word.
"Quinn?" It was her name, dipped in concern so thick it was impossible to miss, a gut punch that forces a relieved chuckle to escapes Quinn as she falls onto the woman's chest; withering from exhaustion.
"Yeah," Quinn whispers. "All's good now." Smiling at Ana who frowns in response, the confusion and myriad of questions gleaming in her eyes. All the things she swallows as she simply nods and strokes Quinn's hairs, lulling her to sleep.
"Was it a nightmare?" Ana asks, filling the silence with a voice cold yet soft.
"It was," Quinn answers, hugging her tighter.
Ending their conversation, "I see." Ana replied with finality, as usual.
And in that position, they slumber until the day break anew.
Gently, the light plays on Quinn's face, teasing her into wakefulness; something that she took a few moments to do before she catches Ana's orbs already open, watching her patiently.
"Morning, Matriarch," Quinn greets with a quip, her voice glow with bliss as she climbs her body for a quick but intimate kiss.
"Good morning, Quinn."
"Thank you for last night. Your touch is so very helpful to me."
"I am glad to be of assistance, Quinn."
Quinn smirks at the reply, finally pulling their body apart; becoming two again. "Well! Do you mind if I go out first today?" Swiftly changing the topic before disappointment settles on her face. "I have some urgent business, and we both understand them seeing your lady friend wouldn't do you much good." Her last sentence can't help but be caught in a self-derisive tone.
"I am open to the idea of being seen with you, Quinn." She sits up, earnest and defensive in her words. "I do not disdain it."
"But will you like it?" Quinn challenges with a teasing smile, giving Ana pause yet not for long.
"I will," she answers, forceful and honest.
To that kind of response. "Next time, then, Ana." Quinn's face can only brighten. "For now: I bid you adieu!" As she sneaks away from the woman's chamber to her own room, rarely inhabited since the day they first share a night of passion.
There, she changes to her usual attire; making sure all parts of her are protected before she heads out to the snow, to unearth the pigeon lies deep beneath the freshly fallen white with Quinn's dagger embedded still to its body.
Ignoring the dagger for a moment, she searches the bird carefully to find a tiny scroll of paper implanted onto its skin, certainly enchanted to only be unwrapped by its valid recipient.
Though, if Quinn's eye isn't mistaken, the sorcery is far too simple for her liking. Proving her right, the thing open at her left hand upon the utterance of her name, unraveling into a missive with only one short sentence inscribed onto it.
"Kill her before spring or our deal is off, Snake."
The handwriting is expensive and well trained, obviously came from a tutor only the best money can buy. But the tone of it lacks the charm and wit nobles tries to inject to their letters, in the hope of being able to worm their ways out of their own remarks should the need arises.
Something the crown prince is clearly not worried about. After all, who exactly will take the words of a known saboteur at face value against the crown prince of one of the oldest kingdoms in the north?
Even if plenty of people do, the crown prince doesn't put his seal anywhere near this letter, nor does he actually use his main hand to write this, considering the marks of his pen being dragged across the paper.
Clearly, he thinks reasonably of himself to protect his identity and place some distance away from the wet work. But if so the case, then why is he stupid enough to send a message by carrier pigeon in the middle of winter with a demand so blatant and idiotic?
Who exactly does he consider he's to change the term of the oath midway through? To ordain her as though she's one of her subjects, loyal to his every pathetic whim and whimpering commands.
Such a thought put a smile to Quinn's face, a sharp and jagged one; the grin of an ambush predator who watches their prey marches straight into their gaping mouth, ready to be swallowed whole.
As if noticing her pleasant mood, a presence familiar from her past approaches. It took her a few moments, yet at his fifth step. "King!" she greets him with confidence as the combustion at the tip of her prosthetic burns away the piece of paper to nothing but ash in the wind.
Definitely seeing her action. "Quinn!" The man pointedly ignores it. "What a great surprise to find you here, old pal." Opening his arms for a warm hug, something that Quinn rushes to seize.
She laughs, too boisterous to be genuine in his embrace. "I can say the same to you!" she continues their pleasant conversation. "What are you doing here, friend?" Portraying an ignorant damsel to his observant eyes, lowering her voice, trying to mimic an innocent curiosity.
Not in the hope of tricking him, certainly; he has known Quinn for long enough to be able to discern the real and fantasy. Rather, she does it so he plays along, also decreasing his volume so only a select few can hear them.
"Oh! For what else but the revolution, my old pal?"
"Ha! Of course, of course! The most important rebellion of our Incarnation, if I remember her speech correctly."
"Hm! Yes, the lecture she gave to you moments before you turn her away, turn us away."
"Ah, well. I do hope it doesn't sour our relationships! I have to go to vacation, King. This business can be tiring, so very tiring. You understand."
"Oh, I absolutely understand, Quinn! I, too, will have a long rest with the missus and kids after this."
"Good, that's great to hear! Give Elena my love and thanks, will you? I will visit soon."
"I certainly will! After you helped me solve one small puzzle, that is." The playfulness in his face and voice are gone, replaced by the hardened expression of a veteran confronting a traitor.
Dauntless, Quinn stood her ground; her smile coiled down, as if readying itself to spring even wider the moment violence breaks. "Oh, by all means, King! I am an open book," she says, her hands hovering over her dagger.
"Why are you here, Snake?" he escalates, unsheathing his swords only to be met with Quinn's dagger. "Who is it that he sent you to poison and swallow? What wells have your venomous fangs seeps into?"
"Accusations!" Quinn pushes him back. "Accusations!" Over. "Accusations!" And again, with a growing smile. "Is that all you have against me, King? Baseless claims and rumors about the wind? Nothing solid to be destroyed with logic?"
"Don't play coy with me, girl. I've known you since youth, I see what you are."
"Oh? Then, please. Tell me! What supposed evil plans do I have here beside helping a rebellion win? Which! As far as I remember, your organization doesn't consider evil at all."
"You plan to kill her."
"Her?" Quinn taunts, betting—no—hoping he wouldn't know that far.
She's wrong, and in the most inopportune of time.
Unwilling to let such a mistake ruin her relationship. "Matriarch!" She quickly greets the woman that approaches them, giving shock to King and Ana both.