A continuation of the  Throne of Glass AU.

Pairing(s): N/A

Warning(s): Possible spoilers for the Throne of Glass series by Sarah J. Maas

WC: 1109

Imogen Cadwell, Adarlan's Assassin, took a deep breath of the scent of spring on the brisk morning air. She shut her eyes, basking in the rays of the sun as they beat down on her once fair complexion. Yet despite the bruises, the sallow pallor of her face, her papery lips curled into a smile.

The burning gaze of someone's stare dug into Imogen's conscious, and she flicked a jade eye open. Ahead of her, on a white horse, was Crown Prince Kaden Gray, eyeing her with a curious intensity.

"Like what you see?" Imogen taunted airily, quirking a brow.

Despite himself, the prince smirked. "How is it that a year in Endovier didn't break your infamous spirit?"

Imogen shrugged simply. "One must find ways to distract from the suffering." She winked, even with the sickly flip of her stomach at what she'd endured in the salt mines.

Prince Kaden nodded and turned his attention back to the ride ahead. As he engaged in a conversation with his Captain, the tall and brooding Alexander Deven, Imogen mulled the prince over. He was attractive, that was for sure, as well as charming and rich. He had a line of suitors out the grounds of Adarlan's Glass castle, no doubt. He'd be amusing to love, easy to love. But not Imogen's type.

Besides, he was the son of the man who had destroyed her home. Oh, how Imogen missed Terrasen. Each gulp of spring air brought her back to her country, of the melting snow and fresh grass and pine, now ash and ruin and sorrow.

"There it is," the Crown Prince's voice shook Imogen out of her reverie. She glanced up at the emerald-eyed heir, now beaming like the sun above. "Rifthold."

Imogen's lip curled as she gazed at the bustling city settled along the Avery River. Sure, it and its glass castle shimmered in the daylight, but Imogen knew it best as the crown jewel in the decaying coat of arms that was Adarlan. She could practically smell the smoke, the thick perfume of harlots, the vomit of drunks in the streets. Phantom blood lined her hands, and she found herself reaching for weapons that she'd long since carried.

And yet no one was to know who Imogen was within that castle. The king and prince would know, as would the Captain and various guards, but to the royal court, she was to be some minor criminal to be dolled up and seen as no potential threat in the games.

Imogen cleared her throat, tearing her gaze from the shining glass castle to the detail of Adarlanian soldiers surrounding her. She flashed them her winning smile, now a grimace from a year of malnutrition and torture. "Let's get going then, shall we?"

***

Tessa Brennan, after centuries of killing, was officially tired of listening to people scream and plead for mercy. She was tired, she had better things to do than listen to them scream, and frankly, she just didn't care.

The heir to the Blackbeak throne, Tessa sauntered through the Witches keep, chin still stained red from the blood of her enemies. She walked with confidence as she always did, booted footsteps loud enough to warn the devil and gods below that she was on the move. She reached up and pulled her cascade of chocolate waves from its restraint, relishing in the feeling of her hair swaying down her back.

The door to the meeting room swung open with Tessa's arrival, and she walked in to find her mother, Sera Brennan, watching her with a hawk-like eye.

"Mother," Tessa greeted with an incline of her head. "You look well."

Sera Brennan, Blackbeak Matron, allowed herself a thin smile. She walked around from the table, but did not greet Tessa halfway. "Welcome, daughter. I trust your hunt went well."

"Excellent, for lack of a better word," Tessa clarified, glancing around the room. Despite her mother demanding the presence of a room, there were other people in the lofty chamber. "I see we have visitors."

"Ah, yes, Tessa, I would like you to meet the Duke of Orion," Sera gestured toward the man on the other side of the table.

"Charmed," The Duke bowed, a seductive smile on his face that was all angles.

Tessa arched an eyebrow. "I'm sure." She sniffed.

"The Duke, as he is so generously hosting us in Morath, has a mission for you and your Thirteen, if you are inclined to accept." Sera continued, her voice strained.

"What's the mission?" Tessa folded her arms across her chest.

The Duke stood with fortitude as he recited his plan, something Tessa wondered if he'd practiced before. "I am on the eve of returning to Rifthold, the capital city of Adarlan, due to a...championship of sorts being held within the Glass Castle. The King of Adarlan is hosting a series of games that the best criminals are participating in, to become the King's personal champion for five years. However, I have...business interests within the castle and I would like to ensure my success in the games."

"Get to the point," Tessa said blankly.

"I would like to enter you in as my contestant," The Duke spoke. "You would be under my name, with a different title and no reference to your true...form of being."

"You mean that no one would know I'm a witch," Tessa grinned devilishly, her iron teeth clinking down like fangs.

The Duke cleared his throat. "Precisely. You will win the games, become the King's champion, displace him and his line, and we will have all of Adarlan's forces to command in our endeavors."

"Where do my Thirteen come into this?" Tessa glanced back at her mother.

"A few of your Thirteen would be permitted to accompany you, to serve as your maids and ladies, and our spies. They'll also be there to find any potential magic users to send back to Morath to aid our cause." Sera explained.

Tessa pursed her lips, glancing at the marble floor in thought. She hated dabbling with men as superiors, but if she got to hurt and kill, then she might as well.

"On one condition," Tessa met the Duke's gaze sternly. "I do not answer to you during these games. If I am to be a believable...contestant, and if that entails being somewhat of a rebel, then I answer to myself. If you have any plans, you run them by me, or I undermine your whole plan. Understood?"

For a split second, Tessa expected the young Duke to reject her offer. Her iron nails had just formed on her fingers when the blue-eyed noble grinned.

"Understood."