allaboutarrorin

[allaboutarrorin]

The monster he created

Flicking what's left of his cigarette into the dark forests ahead of him, Arrorin digs out a tiny, clear vial from one of the many hidden pockets of his black and red armour. Uncorking it with his teeth he spits it out to his side before wrinkling his nose slightly at the taste aswell as intense smell of iron from his blood stained hands.

Picking out a small dagger to tap the lilac powder onto the tip of the blade with evident struggle due to the trembling of his hands, he then discards the empty vial carelessly before swiftly snorting the powder up his nose which he then wipes briefly. Pocketing the dagger again he turns away from the tree he was partially leaning against, rolling his shoulders a tad as if to wake his body up. Back to facing the bloodbath of the larger homestead now gradually burning to the ground, building by building. Corpses lay all around the area, most of them butchered beyond recognition while some of them hang from their intenstines in nearby trees as a form of statement to any bypassing outsider unfortunate enough to discover it in the future.

Making his way towards the barn which remains intact for now, Arrorin suddenly halts in his step upon passing the main farmhouse which would be in full raging flames. His ear twitches slightly at hearing a shuffling, narrowing his gaze upon the chunky wood railing still untouched by the fires to his right he barely has time to even think about checking the noise out before a middle aged human suddenly bolts out from his hiding spot as he tries to make a run for it. Having since long admitted defeat upon the slaughter having happened just earlier and thus being interested in nothing else but trying to save himself from suffering the same fate as many of his friends.

With his instincts kicking in immediately, Arrorin locks his gaze on the human as he draws one of his guns from its' holster on his belt, aiming with certainty at the back of his legs, not even a hint of hesitation touches him as he then pulls the trigger. As a matter of fact he keeps pulling the trigger until the human is forced to stop in his desperate attempt to flee when blood sprays from his back legs as bullet after bullet tears apart the flesh and bones. Crash landing into the cold ground face first, the human let's out a startled screaming in agony at the brutal and sudden failure of both his legs. Naturally prevented from making another attempt of running away, the human starts to desperately crawl across the dirt and mud. The adrenaline pulsating within him being the only thing keeping him from not giving up right there and then despite how quickly he leaves a generous trail of crimson in his path.

Arrorin looks anything but phased by the scene he's just caused as he makes his way over to the human eerily calmly. "Not so fast there, mate." He states dryly, catching up to the human with ease he merely watches him crawl slowly and as he starts to plead in a different tongue then his own, but one that he understands almost perfectly.

Seeming to near enough enjoy watching the human suffer, the faintest of smirks touches the assassin's lips as he suddenly sends his boot straight into the male's back. Forcing his crawling to a stop as he keeps his boot on him though shifts it to press down at his neck as he reloads his gun with a generous amount of bullets. Aiming at the human's head this time, he momentarily pauses as the human starts to squirm wildly, now partially wheezing for air as he tries to scream and plead still as the realisation of death being near dawns on him. Desperately trying to reach Arrorin's boot with his hands although it clearly being to little use given his position and as Arrorin simply puts even more of his weight onto his boot to hold him still enough.

Finally having had enough of toying with his victim, Arrorin pulls the trigger over and over again, the human immediately going limp underneath the weight of his boot at the first shot but despite it the assassin still blasts his head open, caring little of the blood splattering onto him in the process as it only adds on to the already heavy amounts found on his person.

"Boss-- Red-- uhh-- Sir!!" A voice starts calling loudly just by the time that the human lays in a gradually growing pool of his own blood. Another elf comes running from the barn towards Arrorin, carrying a matching dark red surcoat with the black insignia of the Blackshrouds. He waves somewhat wildly, just incase his presence has not already been acknowledged.

Arrorin perks a brow at being called upon as he secures the gun back into its' holster while he removes his boot from what's left of the human beneath him, rolling his eyes as the recruit waves wildly for him he just waits where he is until the other elf reaches him. "Y'better have a good reason as to why y'lot aren't ready to leave yet."

The recruit takes a deep breath once he stops in front of Arrorin, briefly glancing down at the bloodied mess at his feet as it has him swallowing quietly as he looks back at the assassin. "He wasn't in the barn either, sir.. we've found his family however, the bastard's left them to fend for themselves it seems. The men are conflicted though, how to proceed. He's got small children, sir, and the wife is with child too." He starts to explain, nervosity growing within his gaze as he partially avoids Arrorin's.

Arrorin barely reacts to the news, but instead narrows his gaze on the recruit as if he'd just wasted his time with nonsense. "Y'know the orders, newblood. Scyther was clear, no witnesses." He states dryly as he starts walking towards the barn, simply expecting the recruit to follow. "Where's Oddflame?" He asks as he casts a glance around the burning homestead. "I k- know what he said, but nobody feels comfortable, sir. Not even Charcoal, he's just yelling about some loa." The recruit explains poorly as he staggers in a hurry to follow Arrorin once he starts to move. "He went to get the wagon, sir. He's been gone a while, I don't think we can wait for him to do it."

Arrorin suddenly halts in his steps as he turns back around facing the recruit directly as his gaze narrows on him. "So y'solution was to ask me to do it?" He asks though doesn't sound like he actually wants an answer to that as a dry smirk forms on his lips and he averts his gaze momentarily. "Doesn't matter that Oddflame's not here, anyway. Charcoal is fully capable, so is Crooks. Y' on the other hand.." He continues, now eyeing the recruit up and down slowly. "Not so much."

"I-- I am not refusing orders, sir!! I'm just--"

"But y'are refusing orders, though. Aren't y'?" Arrorin interrupts him, taking a step closer as he studies the elf with a perk of brow and with clear judgement in his gaze as he stares him down. "Otherwise they'd already be dead."

The recruit swallows as he stops up in front of Arrorin, not daring to do anything else but to stay put as the assassin steps closer, he shakes his head wildly. "No, no! Anything else you ask of me I will do, Red! You can count on it, I swear!" He tries to sound convincing despite the evident fear in his voice as if he knows that what's about to happen isn't anything good.

Silence occur between the two as Arrorin remains just looking at him with a half lidded, blank gaze. Stepping even closer, he suddenly yanks a firm hold of the recruit's surcoat and draws him in close as he stares him down again. "I ain't asking y'for anything else though, newblood." He voices calmly and unsheats one of his black daggers from his belt which he then plunges into the shorter and smaller elf without giving him any chance of replying. Watching as the light of life dims quickly within the recruit's widened eyes as he stares back at him in raw shock and fear, clutching onto the dagger aswell as Arrorin's own surcoat. He wheezes for air before the assassin plunges the dagger all the way through him which has blood spluttering from his mouth as he starts choking on it for but a second before his body grows limp.

Arrorin catches the recruit's weight into his arms as he drops lifeless, frowning for himself he then lowers the elf down onto his back on the ground. "Y'wouldn't have lasted a month." He whispers as he eyes over the recruit idly, closing the dead one's eyes he then retrieves his dagger from impaling his chest as he stretches the fabric of the recruit's surcoat upwards before he cuts what's left of the insignia off his chest sloppily with the dagger.

Getting back up to stand, he pockets the bloodied piece of cloth before he turns on his heel and keeps walking towards the barn, acting like nothing just happened as the darkness programmed within him blocks everything else out but completing his job of the night.

Pushing the barndoors open, Arrorin enters to another bloodbath inside, butchered and fried corpses lay around and fresh liquid of crimson is dripping from just about anywhere. Stepping around slightly to try and avoid most of the pools of blood, pieces of bone or brain matter on the ground, Arrorin furrows his brows as he makes his way over to his two colleagues surrounding a human female who cradles her three young sons on the ground against a wall, doing so she also rests a hand protectively over the large bump of her pregnant belly.

The biggest Shroud of them all turns towards Arrorin at his arrival, having been pacing around in small circles watching the captives, the Troll then rushes over to the assassin. "Wat took ya so long, Red?! Ya neva said she be havin' a whelp on the way! A canno' be havin' any o'da kind o'blood on me, mon! Da loa alreade' be angry wit' me."

"Is this shit because of y'stupid loa again?" Arrorin hisses in annoyance as he narrows his gaze upon Charcoal as he stops up with him a bit away from the captives for the moment being.

"Don' ya be callin' him stupid, den ya be da stupid one wen he be robbing ya o'ya dick dat ya love so much!" Charcoal warns seriously as his gaze shifts around and up towards the ceiling. "He didn' mean et, mon!" He says swiftly to seemingly no one.

"Focus, Charcoal." Arrorin scolds as he passes the Troll and approaches his second colleague aswell as the captives which he narrows his gaze upon next.

The eldest of the boys couldn't be more then probably thirteen years old, the youngest approximately four or five. Daring enough to look up first would be the mother, blue eyes staring directly at Arrorin in disbelief. Although she says nothing for now but simply cradles her sons even tighter against herself upon the youngest's whimpering.

"Where's the newblood?" The Forsaken says once Arrorin's done talking to Charcoal, glowing yellow eyes staring at their commander as he stands put with both his swords drawn, close enough to the captives to decapitate each one of them with ease should they try anything.

Arrorin looks at Crooks at his question whereas he shrugs his shoulders faintly. "He didn't make it." He states dryly, his expression growing hard to read. "Now shut the fuck up so that I can clean up y'mess." He adds, his gaze shifting between his colleagues for but a moment before he crouches down in front of the captives, resting his elbows lazily onto his knees as a sly smirk finds his lips and he locks his gaze with the female's. "Listen, doll. I'm going to give y'two options here, tell us where y'worm of a husband is.. or die here with y'children tonight. What's it gonna be, eh?"

Crooks frowns a bit as he finds himself believing there to be more to the story then what Red makes it out to be, sharing a sceptical glance with Charcoal who seems to share his feelings regarding it, the both of them just falls silent on the matter for now and positions themselves behind their commander, watching the captives blankly as the higher ranked member takes control of the situation.

The human's eyes would be watering as she desperately searches the assassin's gaze as he crouches down by them whereas she grips onto her boys even tighter. "By the Light... I already told those two, we don't know! H- He's left us here.. h- he's l- left, I swear.." She sniffles, despite the raw fear in her gaze she doesn't tear it away from Arrorin's but instead still seems in disbelief of what she sees in front of her. "Y- You're barely of any age yourself.. this i- is crazy... it's c- crazy.. you're crazy! Whoever hurt you so much to end up like this?!" She poorly attempts to get under the young assassin's skin, who gives no obvious reaction whatsoever to her words.

Given how his line of work forces him to meet all kinds of people, Arrorin wouldn't have too much of an issue understanding this human either despite her Common tongue, if anything he'd be more surprised to how she easily seems to understand him, clearly having rolled a dice with not shifting his own tongue as he spoke to her.

His gaze darkens as a dry smirk finds his lips. "Well then.." He murmurs calmly.

"I suppose y'leftovers will be enough to wake his lust to track us down. In both options y'die, by the way, I just didn't say so because I wanted to see if y'actually knew where the fucker is. But y'clearly don't. And therefor, y'are useless to us alive, darlin'." He explains bluntly with a evident lack of any care in his tone as he pushes himself back up to stand. Drawing one of his guns he begins to reload it with bullets. "Light it up." He states firmly as he glances Charcoal's way just briefly before he takes an aim for the female's head.

Charcoal and Crooks nods to Arrorin as they split up in the barn, the both of them well aware of what's expected of them upon the assassin's order. Crooks heads to start clearing the path leading outside free of any severed or fried limbs being in the way while Charcoal positions himself at the middle of the barn. Hovering his hands out to either side of himself, Charcoal starts calling to the elements aswell as to his loa whereas electric sparks soon starts forming and quickly intensifying around his hands and climbing up both his arms like swirling lightning snakes. His eyes starts to glow a matching blue before he suddenly sends whips of blue lightning into the ceiling from the tips of his fingers, across any wall moldings, posts or clumps of bloodied hay; leaving trails of fire growing quickly in their wake as more and more of the barn starts to uncontrollably burn.

"N- NO! PLEASE! I- I'M BEGGING YOU! T- They're only children, atleast let them go!" The human mother starts to scream her pleading from the top of her lungs, tears now streaming down her cheeks as she desperately tries to hide her children away despite there being nowhere for them to go. The young boys begins to sob loudly, the youngest letting out a heart wrenching scream as the elf's gun is aimed for their mother who he clings to.

Arrorin's gaze drowns in the darkness within him as he watches the mother and her sons on the ground blankly, the terror that he is causing them which doesn't seem to touch him in the slightest; and if it by any means does, the assassin does anything but let that show.

A gentle click is heard from the gun as he then rests his index on the trigger, staring the female human down. "Sorry, lass. Y'should've stayed out of this life." He voices monotonically before he pulls the trigger without hesitation, planting a bullet through her brain as the wall behind her is immediately painted red.

The boys all starts to wail hysterically at this point, whereas Arrorin completely shuts off, any trace of emotion left within the young elf nowhere to be found as he blasts the rest of them full with holes whilst he barely even blinks..

Not taking a second longer to stay put in the barn after assuring the deaths of his victims, the assassin turns around on his heel and starts making his way out of the barn as the raging flames around of him grows ever larger, quickly beginning to swallow the entire building whole much like the rest of the homestead.

Charcoal and Crooks doesn't utter a word about the brutal acts of their commander but simply follows him out of the barn once he's done, realising that their job here is done aswell.

Many hours later..

As he lays on his back in the double bed in his room within their underground headquarters, Arrorin smokes away on a roll of thistle as his gaze is set blankly on the stone ceiling above him, thoughts and voices slowly consuming him whole.

"They would've become pawns of their old man's eventually, seeking revenge for his death. Y'did well, my son. I am proud of y'." "Dat was real dark, mon.. a betta' be spikin' my jungle juice tonigh'..." "Emotions that don't serve us do not belong with people like us, we are stronger then that. Shut it away like I taught y'." "Can't you see what he's turning you into?! A monster, Arrorin! Is that what you want?!"

Feeling a soft hand on his bare chest, Arrorin snaps out of his own head with his brows furrowing tightly as his gaze sets on his company in the bed before he tears himself from her to sit up on the edge. "Get the fuck out." He hisses firmly, pointing briefly to the closed door as he starts rummaging in the drawer of his nightstand with his other hand, carelessly putting the roll of thistle out in the ashtray in the process.

Frowning upon his crudeness, the redheaded female still does as told and leaves the bed whereas she starts to dress herself from having been completely naked. "Fucking asshole." She just voices coldly once she leaves the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Ignoring the response of what had been nothing but a temporary distraction from the darkness, Arrorin digs out a syringe, a lengthy piece of worn cloth, a quite bent silver spoon aswell as a bag of snow white powder. Collecting the lighter from the nightstand, he draws the covers over his legs as he leans back sitting against the headboard of the bed, with trembling hands he starts the process of melting the powder in the bowl of the spoon until it's transfered into the syringe once in a clear liquid form.

Feeling his heart thundering in his chest as he tries to be as quick as possible, the panic growing stronger within him at how his mind only grows louder, chewing violently on every aspect of his soul until the burning sensation of the needle piercing through his skin shifts his focus; the drugs flowing into his veins alike a sudden relief washing over his whole being as his head tilts back against the headboard. His weight sinks fully as his body quickly grows limp, he slowly closes his eyes with a long, shaky sighing as his mind finally starts to disconnect and soon enough shuts off entirely for a while to come. Like any other time he's used the same means to escape his life for a bit aswell as to escape himself..

[allaboutarrorin]

Journal entry #1 - The relapse

It's been a long time since I last dusted this off and wrote in it, since I last wrote it in with an intention of not tearing the page out and burning it right away anyway.

Life's been surprisingly kind to me the last couple of years, despite a couple of bumps in the road. It's given me a sense of what a normal life looks like, it's reminded me of a feeling of belonging. It's also reminded me of the feeling of what it's like to have a home.

I haven't been able to call any place home since my mother died and I left my childhood home with my old man and the Shrouds. There's been houses, sure. There's been people that I've cared for, there's been forms of love, and there's been community, and there's been places I've stayed at for long enough for it to be considered a home..

But the feeling's never been there. My heart's never been there, not truly.. never entirely.

Or the feeling of that I've deserved to be where I was.

And no matter where I've been or who I've been with, I've always felt the need to flee, sooner or later. That need has always been so strong I swear at times I can physically feel my bones being on fire, then the voices do the rest.

I now realise that it was never a place I was looking for, there was never land or a building. It was never a community or glory within my line of work. It was never about being the biggest or the baddest or to claim a place for myself in this world.

It's always been about her.

It doesn't matter anymore where I live, or how much I grow a community to be able to survive in this world, it doesn't matter what kind of reputation I've got or how much gold. All that matters is her, and the way that she gives me a feeling of home, of belonging, no matter where we are.

She makes me not want to flee anymore, and she soothes the urge in me to do so.

I never even thought that was possible.

Right now, however.. it's anything but a blessing. For I wish that I could find it in me to run like I used to, just so that I don't have to face the disappointment in her eyes. The heartache.

And her realisation of what a broken man she's chosen to marry.

I've been clean for five years. Clean enough, anyway. Cleaner then I've ever been as it's never lasted this long. It was never bound to last forever, however, I always knew that.

We had a pretty huge fight last night, about a bounty I've got on my head currently. It got really ugly, and I just lost it.. I barely even remember the walk from my house up until I grabbed onto the first guy I saw that reeked of dealer. Much less do I remember actually using.

But gods.. do I remember the relief.

The relief that I felt is what scares me the most, I expected there to be relief.. but I never expected it to be so good. And I know that I'll be wanting it again..

Lysannia wants nothing to do with me. Can't even look at me, she says.

I've always known that if I ever relapsed she wouldn't react well to it, I expected her to scream or hit me. Hell, I expected her to send me out face first along with all my stuff without hesitation. I expected her to throw her ring at me there and then before she'd tell me to fuck off.

But she did neither of those things, which feels even worse..

It was as if she saw me for who I am the first time clearly in ten years.

And that she hated what she saw. Much like I do.

Of her reaction to my relapse to judge from.. I'm conflicted whether to tell her that it was my smallest relapse yet, of all the years I've been an addict. Of all the times that I have relapsed in the past, in comparison, this was nothing. It was the least brutal one, atleast in every other aspect but emotionally..

Emotionally it's been the worst of them all.

Even if we've been married almost a decade, I'm really starting to realise that she knows little to nothing about my junkie ways really. And it's starting to worry me that she might not fully take it to heart of just how severe my using have been in the past.

I'm terrified of being right, as it could be a deal breaker for her..

And if it is, I *text have been repeatedly written and erased at the area with evident roughness, only leaving unreadable black smudges behind*

The older that I get.. the more I also realise that my old man might've been a monster taken straight out of a nightmare; but he was also right about a lot of things.

This life sucks the soul out of you, it blackens your heart and it turns you against the rest of the world. It portrays you as a monster, as a selfish cunt with a taste for blood and a longing for misery.

It also turns you against yourself by each and every time you surprise yourself by just how brutal and heartless you can really be, when the questions of what's wrong with you arise.

When you start to doubt that it's not the world that is the problem, but you.

The paranoia never leaves you, the need of constantly having to watch your own back never leaves you. Much like the constant inner battle of distrust against other people never really goes away. Even towards the people that you consider your family or friends.

But the sense of freedom is what always lures you back in, no matter how far away you run from it, it always finds you. Pulls you back in with promises that the pain is worth it, that all the heartbreak that you cause other people is worth it.

I didn't choose this life because I wanted to be a rebel, or because I wanted to act tough going against the word of the law. And I didn't choose this life because I enjoy constantly hurting the people that I love, or because I've got a urge to try and destroy myself.

I chose it for a choice to be the one calling the shots regarding my own life, to free myself of my father's chains and to find my own identity. Even if that meant being closer to him then ever.

Even if I did exactly as Arreth wanted by staying in his footsteps, by letting him break my mind, in some sick way by doing so I could finally see myself for what I was without him. Or at the very least for what I could become. I wasn't just good at whatever it was he chose to teach me because he simply didn't allow me to be anything less, but because I was actually really bloody good at it.

In the middle of all of his abuse, all his torture and all his manipulation and his lies, I found a sanctuary within my work. I discovered what control of my own life felt like for the first time ever, and that feeling got addictive to me. While I could never truly escape my old man, this feeling of control is what I think ultimately lead to my survival.

To how I managed to step out of his shadow and claim myself as my own man, to not just remain a mindless soldier whose sole purpose of existing was to continue my father's legacy by all means necessary.

It was when I realised just what I could do with that control that everything changed for me. Everything.

So even if it is a brutal and bloody life, even if it's more often then not cruel and unfair.. it's the life that I will always choose.

For this life is what gave me my freedom, it's what woke me up. And it's what gave me the guts to claim my life as my own, since it was taken from me the moment I entered this world.

Without having gotten this realisation, thanks to the life I was both forced to be in but that I ultimately chose to willingly stay in; I am fully convinced that I wouldn't have surived. Sooner or later I would've ended up in a situation leading up to my end, most definitely to save Arreth's ass.

There's no doubt in me that he would've gladly let me take the fall for him, had I stayed his perfect little soldier that bent to his every idea, will and need.

So I will always choose the life that saved mine. I will always choose freedom. I will always choose control.

What I won't do, is ever choose a life where I'll be a slave to another man again.

I will fight against that for as long as I breathe, I will fight until I go down, and even then I will still keep fighting. For that fight will always be worth however much pain this life causes me, because there's no worse pain then the loss of control.

The loss of yourself.

*Similar black smudges after text having been erased over and over is found for a second time on the page, below it no more text follows though, as if he was suddenly interrupted in his writing*

[allaboutarrorin]

Arrorin Zedron Thel'ryn

Art credit: Zyvian

𝒀'𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆, 𝒃𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆, 𝒐𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒂𝒚.. 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒚'𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆.

~wip~

[allaboutarrorin]

The darkest secret

TW: Child abuse

It was in the middle of the night when Arrorin woke up because of the two large hands that grabbed him by the shoulders, squeezing hard. He barely managed to blink his eyes fully open before he started rubbing them violently as it took him a moment to come to.

"Wake up! It's time." His father's voice hissed over him just as he could make out the silver-white hair and the moss green eyes staring at him.

Before he even had time to speak his father grabbed him hard by the arm and pulled him out of his boy's bed and he stumbled to his feet. "Okay! I'm up.." He grumbled and rubbed his arm. Only wearing his black pyjamas which his mom had gotten for him, he suddenly felt exposed as he first now noticed that his room was crowded. Ahead of him in the doorway, to the left by his closet and to the right by the window stood ten men, staring at him. Six Sin'dorei, four Forsaken. All wearing the same blood red surcoats, with the same black insignia adorning their chests. That of the Blackshroud Company.

"Get dressed." Arreth said behind Arrorin before he approached the men and exchanged words with one of the Sin'dorei, his right hand, Alen. Arrorin sighed tiredly and did what he was told, he knew better then to argue with his father infront of the Shrouds, the reminder of what had happened the last time he did that was still sore to touch when he carefully grazed his fingers across the raw scar over his right eye.

He found his armour in a pile at the end of his bed, it was brand new. Black and dark red tough leather with hidden pockets for weapons and even a surcoat of his own. Just like the others', except for much smaller. He started putting it on, he had already worn it a couple of times by now but he still found it difficult to strap everything together. Zeren usually helped him, but after tonight he had to manage on his own. So he struggled for a while but luckily his father didn't notice, whatever he was talking to Alen about, it had his full attention.

The men had started to silently clear the room one by one. Alen was the last of them except for his father who stayed and said something else to him, Alen nodded slowly and then looked right at Arrorin with pity in his eyes. Arrorin frowned in return but felt his heartbeat get stronger in his chest and even more so when Alen left the room aswell, then his father approached him and knelt down on one knee infront of him to balance their heights.

"Are y'ready son?" He asked, with that intense stare in his eyes which Arrorin hated. Arrorin nodded hesitantly at him and murmured. "Are y'sure that this is a good i--"

Arreth cut him off. "That doubt will get y'nowhere." He hissed, once again grabbing him, this time by the upperarms, hard. "This is the kind of stuff y'are being trained to do! Have I not raised y'to be better? To be strong?! Are y'backing down so easily?"

"No.." Arrorin managed to whisper, his ears wilted and fear struck him as he was grabbed, he felt the tears coming immediately from the burning sensation in his arms but he swallowed hard and fought them back.

"Are y'?!" His father hissed quietly, forcing a proper answer as he usually did. Finally he released his grip of Arrorin and got back up to stand, once again towering over him.

"No!" Arrorin repeated while he fixated his gaze down at the floor and clenched his fists tightly, even as he was released he didn't move a muscle but stood completely still by his father.

"Good, meet us outside when it's done." He said, that familiar coldness had returned to his voice and then he gave Arrorin a look that he knew all too well. 'Do it, or you will regret it'. Arrorin just nodded slowly.

When he was finally left alone in the room he could no longer prevent the tears from coming and as they streamed down his cheeks he as quickly, violently wiped them away. Sniffling quietly he grabbed his black leather backpack from his closet which was packed since the night before and left his room, stepping out in the livingroom of the timber house it was as dark as his room had been. No candles were lit and no fire. Not a soul awake.

He glanced to his left, to the door next to his own and the one at the end of the small hallway, he froze for a moment in doubt. Then he heard his father's voice in his head, clear as day as if he was right there towering over him again, screaming into his ear. 'Fear is for the weak! Are y'weak?!' It startled him out of his frozen state at how real it seemed, so much that he even glanced over his shoulder just to make sure he was infact, still alone before he hurried towards the fireplace.

He dropped down to his knees and stuck his hand into the fireplace, digging around in the ash and pieces of coal until he felt something square, he pulled it out and like his father had said it was a box of matches. Under the kitchen sink he found the hidden bottles of alcohol. He started with one at a time, not giving himself time to hesitate again once he was stood by the couch and he tipped the first bottle over the fabric and its' contents began to soak it aswell as the cushions.

Arrorin then moved around in the livingroom and hallway systematically, soaking everything that he could with the alcohol and when he ran out of one bottle he opened the next. He made a small trail with the alcohol from the couch to the front door before he went back and poured the last of it in and over the fireplace. He went back to the front door after discarding the empty bottle and after opening it he looked outside. It was still pitch black, except for the hint of a light from a fire far in the distance and he could make out the silluettes of men watching the house, more in numbers then had been in his room. Exactly how many however, he couldn't tell.

He turned back again while he left the front door wide open, he looked back inside of the house and towards the door at the end of the hall, he felt his stomach twist. What if she didn't wake up? Hesitantly he stood in the doorway looking inside while he could almost feel his father's gaze piercing him in the back of the head. He knew he was watching him, he always was. With trembling hands he dug out the box of matches from his pocket and he lit one. Arrorin closed his eyes tightly, exhaled a shaky breath through his nose as he dropped the match to the floor.

It took one second for the burning match to react to the trail of alcohol leading into the house. It took two seconds for the fire to spread across most of the floor. By five seconds the majority of the house had started to light up heavily once the couch caught fire. Arrorin stood paralysed in the doorway, staring intensely at the growing flames as it shook him to his very core, it sent a rush of adrenaline through him he wasn't prepared for and suddenly he felt smaller then he ever had before.

He took a sharp breath and began to regain control over his own limbs as he turned on his heel and started to sprint. He ran towards his father and the Blackshrouds and for a moment he completely forgot what he had just done and of the worry he had been feeling of it not going according to his father's plan. His heart was pounding in his chest and a mixture of pride and joy washed over him with full force. He had completed his first mission.

Then he heard it..

Arrorin halted so suddenly he almost tripped over his own feet when he heard the scream that came from behind him, from the house. Turning back around he was faced with a bright light, the house was almost completely in flames now. His ears immediately wilted and panic set in.

"Dad!? What's taking y'so long? DAD?!" He started yelling desperately towards the group and towards his father whom was already on his way over to him; but he wasn't in a hurry. He was walking as if he had all the time in the world. "Dad, what are y'doing?! HURRY! Y'have to go get mom! QUICKLY!" Arrorin heard his own voice crack as he almost screamed at this point and by the time his father finally reached him, instead of bolting towards the burning house to save his mom, his father knelt down before him and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"This is the mission, son." He said firmly. "W- wh.." Arrorin stuttered, suddenly he felt overwhelmed by panic and confusion that he just tried to pull away. "Y'SAID Y'WERE GOING TO SAVE HER!"

"If I had told y'what was going to happen then y'wouldn't have gone through with it! This had to happen, my son." "N- NO!" Arrorin screamed as the reality of his father's words sunk in, he had lied to him. And now his mother would face the consequences for it.

As he heard the woman's scream from the house yet again he turned away from his father and tried to run, he did however barely make a few steps before he was swept off the ground as Arreth grabbed and lifted him.

It made him absolutely feral.

"NO, NOOO! LET ME GO!" Arrorin screamed from the top of his lungs, he faught and kicked with all he could muster as he tried to get free. "MOOOM!" But his father held him tighter then he ever had before. And as they sunk down on the ground together Arreth secured him from behind, preventing him from continuing to hit or kick him. In this position he was forced to face the raging flames, he heard the screams loud and clear now and in that moment of realisation that he was no match against his father's strength and that he couldn't save her on his own.. he couldn't do anything else but wail.

Arrorin sobbed until the screams silenced, and by the time they did he was struggling to regain control of his own breathing. When his father finally let go of him he only did so that he could lift him back up to stand and turn him to face him. "Listen to me." His father hissed as he forced Arrorin to meet his gaze by turning his head via his chin. "Y'heart is what will be y'death in this world. To survive, y'must get rid of it. Y'mother never saw that.. that's why she had to go. To unlock y'full potential, we must rid of all that makes y'weak. One day y'will see that."

Arreth then squeezed him firmly on the shoulder and planted a silver coin in his palm, it had the Blackshroud's insignia engraved on both sides of it.

"From this day until y'last day, y'will live and die for the Blackshroud Company. Welcome, my son." Another squeeze, then his father turned his back to him and walked towards the lit campfire in the distance and the crowd of men.

And Arrorin felt his eyes burn as tears continued to stream freely down his cheeks, he clutched the coin so tightly in his hand that his knuckles turned white.. he then slowly sunk back down to the ground as his body started to tremble violently.

He curled up into a ball, unable to find the will to move.

Art credit: Tomskaya