Private Tales The Fall

[Raziel]

Raziel's grin was all eyes and teeth as he offered a shallow bow. A sudden twist and he struck the side of he Baron's head with one elbow.

It sounded loud, but it was just enough to discombobulate him. He Baron was a large man and Raziel didn't want any further interruption.

He untied his hands from he metal from of he library ladder quickly and rebound them behind his back.

"No! No!" went the Baron as he struggled. Raziel had already knocked the fight out of him and soon had him face down on the ground, pinned by a knee between the shoulder blades.

 

[Feyre]

Feyre's heart struck up a new staccato in her chest as she watched him go down, bleating in terror. From her. She hadn't realised that she was laughing until she heard herself. She couldn't help it, and she didn't know whether it was shock and hysteria or whether she was genuinely enjoying this. Whatever it was, it was empowering. It made her dizzy in that same airy way that a few too many cups of wine did.

She settled a steadying hand on her forehead for a moment, leaving a smeared, bloody handprint as it fell to her side again and she stared down at the squirming man. Did she have it in her to draw it out any longer? Her palms were sweating. Perhaps she should just make it quick and get it over with. She glanced to Raziel. She'd hesitated for too long.

"On his back. I want him to see my face." she said with all the surety she could muster.

"If you've anything left to say, Baron, make it quick."

 

[Raziel]

"All of that power he held," Raziel hissed as he started to roll the man over, "and just like everyone else he can be reduced to nothing. No one is better than anyone else in their last moments, but they are all different."

A lot of people had died for Raziel to make that observation. Death fascinated him, as did the drive to commit murder and inflict pain. This singular moment stood tall amongst the most memorable in his life. The panicked girl wielding the knife with such abandon over those who had taken everything from her.

He idly wondered if she would try and kill him here and now.

The baron's face was screwed up as if he was preparing to be punched in the face.

"Get on with it!" he spat. The panic had set in, but Raziel knew he still tried to goad Feyre into making the end a quick one.

 

[Feyre]

Suddenly the smell of the blood so was thick and suffocating that Feyre had to take a moment to push down the notion to vomit. The hand that clutched the bloody blade trembled from the force in which she held it with. If she dropped it they'd both know she was faltering, if she vomited they'd know she'd lost her nerve.

It was time to take it all back, and a really terrible time for her grief to catch up with her. Her family were gone, she was alone, and she was about to lay claim to the baron's lands and become baroness of an estate. How the fuck was she supposed to do any of this!? She looked again to the dead woman, slumped in the chair, her face barely recognisable and her white nightdress now a shocking crimson, a glistening puddle of blood on the floor underneath and the steady drip that seemed to be getting louder and louder as the seconds passed.

Perhaps the woman was innocent. But so had she been. Her family had been too. And the man responsible for it was right in front of her. As was the tiefling who'd followed the orders.

Ah, there it was. The rage she needed to drive her that last step of the way. Two strides and she was at them, her teeth gritted with the effort it took to finish the job. "Very well." she snarled out and bent to sit astride his stomach, the blade placed over where she guessed his heart would be.

She didn't drive it in like she had done to the others. This was slow. Dreadfully and horrifically slow. So slow that it needed a considerable amount of strength on Feyre's part. Her eyes fixed on him as he screamed, the veins in his face and cords of tendons in his neck strained to snapping as the blade worked its way inch by inch into his chest.

 

[Raziel]

Her determination wavered. Raziel was unnaturally silent and still as he sensed her lingering at the precepice. It would be the end of one journey and the start of quite another. A different kind of Feyre would emerge from this.

There would still be tests. Having the strength to make this journey was one kind, the strength to wield the knife quite another. Finding out if she had the strength and ruthlessness to hold onto the power she was going to take by force would be another test.

Whatever she needed to take this step, she found it.

The Baron squeezed his eyes shut as the knife hung over him. All of his days and scheming. All of his power and his gold. All ending with a sliver of metal moving a few inches in the wrong direction.

Raziel opened his eyes wide as the blade came down. The Baron screamed and strained as it worked its way towards his heart. It found its mark and crimson spread across his chest. Struggles and jerks against the inevitable became convulsions. His screams became sharp, stuttered breaths that began to slow.

He opened his eyes and fixed Feyre with pure, impotent rage.

"You always learn something about a person as they die," Raziel whispered.

 

[Feyre]

Feyre's eyes were just as wide, though hers were crazed in a whole different way. She didn't quite feel like her own body belonged to her in that moment, or like she'd stepped out of it and was looking down on the whole scenario as it played out. Perhaps it was just sheer disbelief that she had something like this in her at all. She didn't, not until the monster under her blade had taken everything from her. This was vengeance for her family, for the people slain by the mob he'd hired and every bit of pain this man's greed had caused.

As the last few breaths were being strangled out of him, she twisted the blade with a look of smug satisfaction, and after a final jerk, he sputtered and stilled under her. Feyre's shuddered breaths were more apparent in the deathly silence, and for a long moment all she could do was stare at the Baron's face and the blood that spilled from his chest. She yanked the blade back out just to see it spill more, and she wasn't disappointed. There was just so fucking much of it.

"Oh?.." she distantly answered Raziel's statement, her head tilting as she finally dragged her gaze from the corpse to look up at the devil beside her. Feyre watched him for a moment before she moved faster than she knew she could. She launched herself at him, throwing her body weight into the tiefling in the hope of pinning him to the blood-soaked floor and press her glistening blade to his throat.

"What were you hoping to learn about me?"

 

[Raziel]

Raziel had known this was a possibility. As he went down under her weight, he even found the time to question his love of playing with fire. He had not expected her to make the decision so quickly, nor for her to move so fast.

The blade was warm against his throat, not cold. Raziel met her determined gaze. He listened to her laboured breathing. He felt her pulse racing.

Despite the threat he was under, the merest change in pressure between life and death, he seemed to still be searching her soul for something.

"I wanted to learn if you had the strength of conviction to take your revenge. I had already learned that. I wanted to see if you could turn revenge into blood soaked art instead of a mundane power play."

Raziel craned his head forwards. His neck pushed against the blade until it drew blood. Until he was scant inches from her face.

"You did not dissapointed. How do you feel?"

 

[Feyre]

Feyre's jaw tightened and she held firm as he pushed back. Her hand had stopped trembling. There was so much fucking power at her fingertips and she wouldn't dare falter, not over him. The Baron and his wife might not have noticed her hesitations but he would, she had no doubt of that.

How did she feel?

Her body sung with adrenaline, and right now it was like liquid heat flooding through her. She felt frenzied. She felt strong and energised and..unstable. Her gaze fell to the knife against his throat, and she pressed it a little harder, watching the blood trickle down the blade. A sudden shudder rushed through her and in an instant she had moved again, this time closing the gap of static air between them as she claimed his mouth with her own.

 

[Raziel]

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. Each finger closed in turn until her gripped her tightly from her collar to her hairline.

Raziel kissed her back, heart pounding, his skin of fire. The source of that heat was the sharp press of the blade that drew a line of pain across his throat. He had never been kissed like this with a blade to his own throat, with the scent of blood heavy in the air. Something new was a novelty in a life where he took anything he wanted through force, malice or manipulation.

Closing his eyes, he indulged himself in the moment. Caught on the knife's edge between bliss and the endless void. He always wanted to push every boundary until something snapped, but for once he held back. But for the fingers now wandering down her spine, he let Feyre decide what came next.

 

[Feyre]

It took Feyre quite some time to tumble back down from the dizzying heights she'd reached, the blood that he'd let her taste still amplified every little sensation so that even the feel of carpet under her fingers was a thrill.

Soon, she fell hard with exhaustion and sleep claimed her where she lay. When she awoke, her hair was sticky with the blood of the dead man laying nearby, and as she opened her eyes to the sight of his stone-dead face, she grinned and let out a drunken little laugh.

She stretched out like a cat and rolled to her feet, squelching through the recently departed's puddles of blood on the way to the grand window to throw open the drapes and look upon a new day, and let the new day feast on her naked and blood spattered skin.

"Good moooorninnng!!!" she called to the house. Her house.

 

[Raziel]

Raziel found the scent of fresh blood enticing. It was power. Raw life energy that he manipulated for his magic. That smell of death was another matter. It was nothing more than decomposing flesh.

He groaned as he rolled onto one side. The floor had been firm and his joints ached. The lazy, pained looked turned as he saw her silhouette against the morning light. Raziel greeted the morning with a satisfied grin.

A shattered vase. A beautiful work of art that wasn't supposed to be touched, broken. A thousand pieces moulded back together. Jagged edges that weren't meant to touch, forced together.

He didn't know what shape she would be remade into, but he was desperate to see.

Even if she had to kill him to get there.

"Good morning," he sighed, arching into a feline stretch.

 

[Feyre]

Her smile was sheer satisfaction as she looked over her shoulder at the tiefling. Feyre did not consider herself broken. She was far stronger than she had ever been, and there was no grief, no sadness what-so-ever when she thought of her family and the life she had been robbed of. She was sure she should have felt sad, but weakness wasn't an option, and had she allowed time for such emotions, she'd no doubt be dead too. No. Rage had worked far better for her..

"I'd like you to gather the staff and inform the of the tragic death of their Lord and Lady, and let them know that the rightful Lady of this estate has now taken up residence." she smirked and sighed.. "And find someone to clear up this mess too.."

"Payment for your services shall be made in gold, then, you are free to go.. or stay." she shrugged, her fingertips skimming the back of the dead woman's chair as she made her way toward the bathing chambers..

 

[Raziel]

He stood slowly, transitioning into a long, feline stretch.

"If you will tolerate my presence, I think I will stay," Raziel replied.

He thought back to how this had started. His eyes fell to the Baron. The man had betrayed Raziel too and nearly succeeded. He should have been more annoyed by that, but watching Feyre's transition had sent such basic feelings to the back of his mind.

Still, it was satisfying to see him dead.

He didn't explain to Feyre why he stayed. He was fascinated to see what she did next. Would she consolidate her power or would she take such drastic action that others moved to depose her.

"I will fetch them immediately," he said, picking up his clothes. The red tiefling, covered in blood, announcing the change in power. That would be interesting enough on its own

 

[Feyre]

Feyre's Cheshire grin sank below the surface of the near scalding hot water which quickly turned pink as it cleansed the blood from her skin and hair. She would hurry for no-one, and so she took her time soaking and soaping, and listening to the muffled silence under the surface whilst she lost herself in her thoughts.

Most of the clothes owned by the previous Lady of the house were hideous and wound up in a pile that she'd ensure would be burned. For now she pulled a gold, silken gown from the armoire, her brow quirking in amusement. Most likely a gift from the Lady's fuck-hungry husband, and most probably never worn. She didn't care that it was likely a scandalous thing to wear outside of the bedroom. She was scandalous. She'd considered wearing nothing at all, but decided this was statement enough. This was her home, and she'd make herself comfortable.

 

[Raziel]

Raziel had a pervading theory on the success of humanity. They liked to believe it was because they were as brave in battle as the orcs, as industrious in building as the dwarves, as talented with magic as the elves and with a organised hierarchy of discipline over the top.

He believed it was because they were survivors. They would sacrifice morals and duties if they could cling to this rotten world for another day.

A blood soaked tiefling was about to give the household staff orders. To explain that their had been a coup and that the neice now ran the estates and would hold the titles.

Of course there had been a stubborn few. When they had been told to attend the windows and seen the former bodyguards of the Baron splayed out on the lawns.

Raziel worked quickly.

And so, as Raziel joined Feyre at the table there was already a full breakfast spread out.

He sat at the opposite end of the table and laughed out loud.

 

[Feyre]

Feyre's damp hair hung over her shoulder as she walked bare-foot into the dining room with a sickly-sweet "Good morning." which was quickly met by flustered bows and curtsies of the staff who promptly addressed her as their Lady. She smiled at that, her golden eyes settling on Raziel's smug face as she sat at the head of the table, her chin dipping in mute thanks to see that his task had been carried out without any issue.

"How wonderful.." she commented, looking across the breakfast spread. "Come, everyone, eat with us." she opened her arms, beckoning the staff to take a seat at the table. Glances of uncertainty were exchanged, but they wasted little more time in indulging Feyre's request. They sat in silent rows, some heads bowed, some eyes shifting warily between her and the tiefling, but not one of them lifted a morsel from the table.

"There is no trick. Eat." she insisted. "I suppose Raziel has explained the recent adjustments." she said, picking a slice of hot toast which she drizzled in honey. "I will not bore you all with details that are none of your business, but your previous Lord and Lady were no longer fit for purpose, and repayment was due for wrong deeds done." she nodded and crunched into her breakfast.

"Now." she licked the sweet nectar from her lips and curled them just as sweetly. "Where betrayal is punished, loyalty is rewarded. Serve me well and I shall treat you well....." she shrugged, leaving the rest unsaid, but the silence that fell said plenty.

"I trust there are no issues with this, but if any of you see fit to raise any complaint, please do so now, and we can discuss the matter and move on. There are floors to be cleaned and rugs to be replaced in the master bedroom."

 

[Raziel]

Raziel leaned forwards as Feyre asked the staff to sit at the table. This was interesting. She did not tell him all of her plans and neither would he want her to. Being surprised by her actions was now most of the fun.

He watched the group intently. Feyre had issued the threat. Raziel didn't need to back or up. What they had seen in the garden was enough. The scene in the master bedroom was more than enough.

He observed the little glances, the social hierarchy within the staff. They all eventually looked towards the head butler. Raziel would need to do some investigation and understand who had been truly loyal to the Baron.

"We serve the master of the house," she said. The others gave small nods. "There is...the matter of the schedule for the week...meetings and such things..."

It was offered tentatively. They were afraid. Of course they were.

Raziel sat back in his chair and grinned at Feyre.

Baroness?

Maybe he could make her a damned queen.

 

[Feyre]

Feyre's golden eyes met Raziel's mischievous gaze, and a flicker of amusement danced across her features. She rather appreciated his presence, his understanding of her desires, and the unspoken camaraderie they shared. The power they wielded together was intoxicating, and she relished the feeling.

Her attention shifted to the staff, who awaited her response with trepidation. Their fear was palpable, a testament to the reputation she had so quickly crafted. Feyre exhaled softly, reminding herself that this was a delicate balancing act, a dance of dominance and subtlety. "Well, then I suppose that makes me Baroness, doesn't it?.." she answered, her fingertip tracing a pensive circle around the rim of her cup.

Her lips curled into a sly smile as she observed the reactions ripple through the room. The title held weight, and she intended to mold it into something far greater.

"As is my right.." Feyre continued, her tone becoming softer, a touch of warmth seeping through. Her gaze swept across the faces staring back at her, each one a potential pawn in her game, or a potential head on a metaphorical spike. Or, not so metaphorical, she wasn't above barbarity.

"As for the matters of schedules and meetings" Feyre addressed the tentative inquiry, her voice gaining a firmness that demanded attention. "They shall be re-evaluated. I will ensure that the tasks ahead align with our new vision. Loyalty will be rewarded, and those who prove themselves indispensable shall find their positions elevated."

The staff's apprehension slowly transformed into a flicker of hope. Feyre's words carried the allure of possibilities, a chance for redemption and recognition. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes scanning the room with a mix of calculation and intrigue. Feyre knew that the road to her ambitions would be paved with challenges, but she reveled in the anticipation of the power she could grasp, the life she could shape.

"We have much work to do," she concluded, her tone carrying a blend of authority and invitation. "Hop to it, then."

With those words, Feyre rose from her seat, her presence commanding and regal. She extended her hand toward Raziel, a silent invitation to join her in a tour of the manor as she passed him.

 

[Raziel]

Raziel remained entirely enraptured through her explanation of the situation. There was a hunger in his gaze, a gently, sensual swish of his tail behind him.

He had nothing to say after her little speech. Raziel reached out and set his hand under hers. In a single heartbeat before he stood, he cast a single glance around the table.

There was nothing to say, but a single glance enforced the notion that those who did not show loyalty would find themselves quite dispensable.

He stood up, effortlessly becoming her shadow as she walked away. He remained silent until they were far enough away from the servants to speak openly.

"Thomand Kell should have a few hundred men here within a day," he reminded her.

She had fulfilled her side of the bargain. He was far more than satisfied by that. There was his curiosity with Feyre that threatened to become an infatuation.

As well as that, he wanted to see this through. This had all started because the Baron had betrayed Raziel during the plot to kill Feyre and her family. Seeing his lands turned over to Feyre was the culmination of his undoing.

"It should be several more days before any loyalists hear if what happened and raise a force. But we also need to be prepared for Kell to make his own movement and break the deal."

They sauntered together through another parlour and onto a long corridor that looked down upon the private gardens.

 

[Feyre]

Feyre walked alongside Raziel, their steps purposeful as they ventured through the opulent corridors of the manor. His reminder of Thomand Kell's imminent arrival sparked a flicker of anticipation within her. The alliance she had forged with Kell was essential to her plans, a key to unlocking the power she sought.

"Thomand Kell's men will provide the backbone we need," Feyre acknowledged, her voice carrying a note of gratitude. "I trust that he understands the gravity of the situation and the benefits that lie in aligning with us." Then again, she had threatened his family..

As they moved from the parlour to the corridor overlooking the private gardens, Feyre's mind whirled with the delicate intricacies of their arrangement with Kell. She had made her intentions clear, leveraging the safety of his family against his loyalty. She had promised him rewards, but she also knew the fragility of alliances forged in the face of shared enemies.

"We must ensure that our deal with Kell remains intact," Feyre emphasized, her voice steady and resolute. "We have fulfilled our part of the agreement, and he must do the same. But we must be prepared for any contingencies."

Her eyes scanned the serene beauty of the gardens below, the tranquility at odds with the ruthless machinations that transpired within the manor's walls. Feyre knew that in this world of power and revenge, trust was a fragile commodity.

"We shall remain vigilant," she continued, her tone laced with determination. "Raziel, I need you to monitor Thomand Kell's movements closely. We cannot afford any surprises or shifts in loyalty. If he wavers or shows signs of betrayal, we must act swiftly and decisively. I want the staff monitored too, we need eyes everywhere, any weeds will be torn out from the root.."

A mixture of determination and caution settled upon Feyre's features as she considered the path ahead. The Baron's demise had fueled her thirst for vengeance, but she understood that their success hinged on calculated moves and unwavering commitment.

"Our grip on power here must be ironclad," Feyre declared, her voice firm with conviction. "I've come too far to let anything or anyone stand in my way. The Baron's lands and wealth is rightly mine, and we will reshape this estate into a stronghold that none can challenge."

With resolute steps, Feyre continued down the corridor, her mind focused on the intricate dance of alliances, power plays, and the ever-present hunger for retribution. She knew that their actions had set a wheel in motion, one that would not be easily stopped. The path to victory was paved with uncertainty, but Feyre was determined to seize it with unwavering resolve.

 

[Raziel]

"Despite our preparations we are starting cold," Raziel said. "It will get worse before it gets better."

He did not provide the warning with a solemn tone. He openly wore his excitement for the task at hand. They had few allies and even fewer eyes and ears across the extensive lands that belonged to Feyre. Many factions would see this as an opportunity and Raziel was banking on this causing glorious chaos.

If every minor noble unified under another banner than Feyre would be in grave danger. They had talked about this at length.

"Raising bannermen is expensive business," Raziel said. "We will solidify, sow discourse and distrust, but you must also offer the landowners an easy future. Just as you did with the household staff."

As the corridor narrow he fell into step behind her, curious as to where she would lead him. To which room in the house and into the next few months.

 

[Feyre]

"Then recruit." she cast a dismissive wave at him as she strode with purpose up the staircase. "I'm sure there are enough sell swords who would be happy to lend their skills to support me. I have the funds, and I have you. Force them if you have to. I've seen what you can do with a drop of your blood." she cast a glance over him and pushed her way into the Baron's study.

Feyre was a tactician, nor did she have any real idea of how to do any of this. All she knew was that it was hers and she was not letting go of it, even if the manor and everything and everyone in it had to fucking burn. Her golden eyes cast around the large study, the walls ribbed with shelves bursting with books and busts, of priceless ornaments and boxes of legers and deeds. The large portrait of the Baron and his family that stood as the focal point of the room was met with a scowl as she grabbed a hand-bell from the grand desk it had been hung behind, ringing it until a flustered young woman came rushing through the door.

'My Lady, how can I--'

"Get rid of that." she interrupted, the sharp nail of her index finger pointing to the painting without looking back at it. The woman blanched, but nodded quickly, luckily for her. "All of them. I want every image of them out of this house and burned.."

'O-of course, My Lady, right away." she curtsied, and rushed off to find help as Feyre sat down at the desk and rifled through the drawers, tossing heavy, leather-bound books onto the table.

 

[Raziel]

"Recruitment it is," Raziel replied.

At some level it was all he needed: to be let off the leash.

This was an almost impossible task. They had few allies; he had no network of contacts. He would absolutely revel in taking on the challenge.

If it went wrong he would be far from here before Feyre was dangling from a noose or held hostage and forced into a sham marriage to assert someone else's claim to these lands.

He looked over at Feyre and tried to decide if that was true. If it became so hopeless, would he offer her a way out? Would she take it.

Fascinating.

"I may need some outside help, but riders with messages take time. What are you looing for?" he asked.

 

[Feyre]

"Information.." she murmured without looking up at him, slender fingers turning the pages, her eyes flicking over names and dates, income and outgoings.

"Such as who our dear Baron managed to rally against my father.. He didn't do what he did alone, and i'm not quite ready to settle down yet." her brow furrowed. They'd turned her home and her life to ash, and she'd been one of the intended victims. She would see to it that every man or woman that aided in the Baron's exploits would be dealt the same hand as he had.

"I'll also need to know how much coin I have." she added latterly. The wealth didn't matter as much to her as the payment in blood. She'd valued her families lives over their wealth, and still it was. She'd sit in this little palace cold and hungry before allowing any of the bastards to live for what they'd taken from her.

 

[Raziel]

"Oh he must have had collaborators. I'm sure he was at the heart of it all, but he must have informed some of his supporters in the region."

He hadn't known the details of the overall political play.

"The Baron wanted me killed for what I knew already, so I'm sure there is plenty to be found."

Raziel stalked around the desk, his tail almost upright and giving small angry flicks from side to side.

"We've dealt with one supporter. Who else might he have confided in?"

Raziel didn't really care if they were guilty or not. He was starting to wonder if he could convince Feyre to get her hands even bloodier than they already were.