*Gravestone*

“Questions?” the princess asked, her breath ragged as the adrenaline drained out of her. “Yes, I do believe I have…a few.” Okay, she wasn’t screaming her head off and calling for the guards to come chop my head off. So that puts this experience above my last…wow yeah, every job before this. Damn. “I guess I should start with you giving me an explanation.”

I shrug. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting. I’m a shifter. Always have been, as tends to be the case.” Usually the way my voice changes post transformation is what seals the deal in terror with my clients. But with Belasarius, I swear I see her thighs pressing together under her thin nightgown. Then one of the shoulders of that gown droops and I stop looking at anything that isn’t her face.

“Yes yes, but like, where is your pack, isn’t this against the rules or something?”

“You really don’t know anything about us, do you?”

“Well how much do YOU know about your people?” F*ck. I guess we’re doing this.

“...Nothing.” She flinches slightly. That caught her off guard.

”'Nothing'? How, how can you know NOTHING about shifters when, you know, you are one?” she asked, growing more impatient as she sat down on the foot of her bed. “I’m sorry, I gotta know more. If I’m going to trust you, then I need to know at least a bit of the man in front of me.”

Well, that’s fair, isn’t it? Fine. I didn’t quite feel like confessing my whole life story, but the broad strokes would work well here. I pull up a chair and sit down, reverting back to my human form as the adrenaline dies down. The cold of the wood on my a** reminds me that I was wearing my normal, flimsy, sleeping clothes at the time before I transformed, and I am now naked. Now the Princess is the one trying to keep her eyes on my face.

“I don’t actually know where I’m from, I was taken from my pack when I was a kid. The men, if you can even call them “men”, who took me wanted to grow their own personal prize fighter, bodyguard, frankly whatever they could think of that a shifter could be good at.”

“I’m guessing they settled on prize fighter,” the princess said.

“Yes. Uh, how did you--?”

‘Your name is Gravestone. I have never seen one of these fights you most likely took part in, but Gravestone is such a performative name, the machismo practically dripping off it like a rag dipped in oil--”

‘Yes, thank you, that’s uh, still my name.”

“And it could not sound more obviously like a performer's name. So, prize fighter. Now, how did you escape?”

My god, I could’ve let them kill her. “Well, as you can tell from the name, I was rather renowned in my…field. Gravestone is what they called me when I kept killing their “prize fighter no one can defeat”. Shockingly high number of those, I was entered to help narrow down the field. I can safely say I did. But the problem there is that I eventually got stronger than their means of keeping me there, and I decided it was my time to leave. Ever since, I have been a mercenary.”

The Princess listened intently, and took a moment after I was done to allow my story to roll around in her head. Eventually, she spoke. “So, why do you still call yourself Gravestone?”

“It was a name given to me by slavers, who saw me as merely a tool for ending human life,” I said. “But it’s still mine.”

Belasarius nodded in response. “Okay, now then, I think I am calmed down enough that we can uh…discuss what just happened.”

“You realize we need to tell someone, yes?”

“YOU realize that might end up getting me killed, yes?”

“Telling your father about how someone tried to kill you would result in you dying faster?” I asked.

“My father is NEVER out of earshot. Ever. Someone will hear. Someone who ensured that the guards would be out of the way so that they could conclude their business in peace. You will note, for example, that despite you quite audibly tearing three men limb from limb, that no guards have climbed the tower to my room.” The Princess’ posture changed. No longer exhausted and frightened, her body language closed off the world as she crossed her legs and lightly bit down on her right thumb, deep in thought. “No, this is the highest tower in the castle, you don’t just sneak in here. You need to know someone, or multiple someones. I don’t suppose any of them said something before you relieved them of their lives?”

I thought back to the fight, how out of control I was as I worked my way through them. Then one phrase from the last one popped back into my head. I look back up at the Princess. “Emo Sie Cuto Tore Hae. That’s what the last one said. Before I tore out his throat of course.”

“That’s old Watian,” The Princess said. She thought hard to herself before slowly saying “The White Eye Sees You.”

“Any idea what it means?”

“None. We can go over this more freshly in the morning. Until then, I need you to dispose of the bodies outside as discreetly as you can, and then get some rest. We must investigate this further.” I stand up. “And uh, feel free to help yourself to one of their pants.”

“You know what people DO in their pants when they die?”

“Just. Please.”

I groan. “Yes My Lady.” I make my way to the door but am stopped once more by Belasarius taking my arm.

“And…Mr. Gravestone,” she said, her eyes averted, her cheeks flushed red. “Thank you. For saving me. I…I had never been more scared in my life, truth be told, and…I am grateful. And, I am also sorry about what happened to you.”

I give my best smile back at her. “I’m 29, Princess, and I escaped when I was 20. Trust me, water under the bridge.”

“Well I’m 25 and…and I’ve never met a man such as you before. I don’t quite know how to act.”

“To be perfectly honest, I’m hoping what I just saw was the real you.” Her face grows even redder, and I leave.