Oran had spent several of the earlier sessions in my cell personally trying to pull information from me, but once it became clear that I wouldn’t cooperate he took to leaving such things to the guards until the order finally came for my execution. He delivered that himself, a colorless smirk again present on his face, twisting upwards as I looked him straight on for the first time in many days.

“It is common for a last request, yes?”

My voice came out rough, unused, and I could see that it amused him.

“It t’is.”

I nodded just once, compelling my voice to remain steady as I said, “I wish to spend the night in lust, then.”

He did not expect it, the delay in his response telling so, but he finally conceded, “There are whores who advert such liaisons; I could send for one.”

I shook my head, my voice mockingly gentle, “My taste does not run with women.”

“A boy, then?” he amended, an eyebrow rising just slightly in surprise.

My mouth twisted into an edged smirk, my gaze defiant as I proclaimed, “Not a boy, Oran, but men. Not just any men, but your five best gunmen. The best archer deserves the best marksmen in this king’s army, does he not?”

He was obviously stunned by the request, high spots of color appearing on his face before he ventured, “I cannot guarantee that men such as they would wish to…dally with one such as yourself.”

My words were forced and precise; “Tell them I only wish to take what they offer and little more.”

We stared at each other a moment before he broke away, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle on the front of his tunic before turning his back to me and heading for the door, pausing at the threshold.

“I will…see what can be done.”

“I’ll require some cooking fat beforehand, in that case, if it so pleases you, sir.”

My tone was drawling and boorish, while my diction was as perfect as any noble of the king’s court, and it amused me greatly to see an angry red spread across the general’s neck before he gave a curt nod and finally left me.

I had nothing left to do but to mentally prepare myself for the night, coaching myself on how I would go about a seduction of five men at once in a very limited amount of time.

To be honest, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to go through with it after all, as any sexual urgings I’d had died along with Luke--it had been a very long time, and I worried that under the stressful conditions, my body would be unable to perform.

Regardless of my misgivings, when I was given a small container of fat shortly before dusk, I used it to heavily grease myself. I couldn’t count on them being at all gentle with me, and wished to spare myself the most pain I possibly could.

-

The sun was just setting when guards came into the cell and shackled me about the wrists and ankles, heavy metal cuffs chafing bare skin as I was jerked from the cell and down stone hallways until finally brought to a bigger room.

I clanked with every movement, and so the men waiting for me were prepared for me when I entered, the five of them standing in a line much as I’d find when we’d meet under entirely different circumstances come morning.

After a nodding exchange between the guards and the gunmen, my shackles were removed, and I subtly took in their nervous statures as I went through an extremely thorough check for dangerous weapons in and on my body. Only after I was deemed physically harmless was I left in the company of the men standing before me, the door’s heavy lock a loud clink as it was engaged behind us.

There was a moment of silence as we more forthrightly studied each other, and I was finally forced to ask, “Each of you know the reason for our meeting, yes?”

Their answers were all brief flicks of their heads, each of them trying not to betray that they found the situation greatly unnerving.

I softened my stance, willingly putting myself into a submissive role as I stated, “I merely wish to pleasure you, nothing more. But if I may…who would be first? Our time here is limited.”

There was a round of uneasy glances between them before one the rest seemingly answered to stepped forward, drawing close to me with an expression I could not easily read. But I moved to my knees all the same, looking upwards as he undid his trousers until I was faced with his flaccid cock.

My gaze was questioning as I glanced up further, but I still couldn’t read his expression and thus gave myself leave to reach out and take him into my hand, surprised by the rush of lust that spiked through me as I caught a sharp male scent.

As he began to harden against my palm, I felt a telltale flush creep onto my face, the mark of my arousal that had always amused Luke. I couldn’t help but to think of him as I slowly jacked the man until he was fully hard, but I managed to banish thoughts of my dead lover before taking the hard cock into my mouth.

Briefly, I entertained the fear that I’d forgotten everything I’d once known about pleasuring a man, but it quickly became apparent that I still excelled in the art of oral--I used to be able to hold a man on edge for hours with my mouth alone, and though I lacked the time now, I poured enough enthusiasm into the act that the man came to forget his inhibitions.

A rough-palmed hand rested against the back of my head, gently gripping my hair but not forcing me into going deeper than I already was--even without his help, I managed a deep throat that had him groaning low.

“Better’n a woman, that mouth o’ his,” he hissed, and the praise thrilled me, my eyes closing as I gave a soft moan, successfully losing myself in this.

When my eyes reopened, I pulled off for a few panting breaths, working the slick erection with a fist before taking it down my throat once more, eager for the man’s orgasm, feeling its approach as surely as one feels the arrival of morning.

Sometime between pulling back to catch the beginning of his come on my lips and swallowing the rest, I heard someone wonder aloud whether my ass was as good as my mouth.

I waited until I’d licked my lips clean before looking up again, smelling the liquid heat pouring off the remaining four men as I gave a soft smile and stated, “Won’t know how good I am ‘til you fuck me.”

One of the men turned bright red, and I could only assume he’d been the one to voice the thought.

“He’s right, ya know, won’t know ‘til you fuck ‘im right proper, but I can already say he’s good, boys. Damn good.”

The heady praise buoyed me, my face lighting into a grin that I knew made me appear a good five years younger. It was good I’d greased up beforehand, for I don’t think I’d have been able to leave things as they were, my body flaring with want.

I slowly moved over to the blushing man, my hands settling feather-light on his clothed thighs as I looked up, my tone softly manipulative as I asked, “You want ‘ta be the first ‘ta fuck me?”

And although he didn’t outright agree, he didn’t refuse me either, and thus, I took it upon myself to say yes for him, my fingers sliding against his thighs before heading inward to his crotch, rubbing the blatant length already hard along his upper thigh. He allowed me to undo his trousers and deftly manhandle his equipment out into the open, staring down at me in wide-eyed wonder as I ran my tongue up his length, my expression coyly subservient.

Many men have been led astray by my act when I’ve willingly turned on my charm, but the only one to never fell for it was Luke. He’d recognized straight away that I’m never submissive in a relationship, even though I’m the one anally penetrated.

I’m always in charge, no matter the circumstance, and that had been something Luke proclaimed to love about me, my dominance over him. His nature had been more to allow life to simply pass him by instead of manipulating it to his will, and for that small amount of time we’d had, he taught me the pleasure of living for each moment.

I had to close my eyes to hide a sudden wash of pain at the remembrance before I managed to bury it again, moving my lips from one side of his erection to the other, pressing moist kisses to that silky skin before I found my voice once more.

“Will you fuck me, are you forcing me to beg?”

I opened my eyes then and looked up, my tongue gently working the sensitive gland as I watched his internal debate wage on.

“Go for it, man,” someone huskily whispered, and he swallowed before giving a shaky nod. I sat back on my heels and outright ordered him down to the floor, and to his credit he didn’t question me, lowering down as I stripped from pants made stiff through constant wear, left bare from the waist down.

He sat on the floor, not completely at ease with the thought of it yet as I moved closer, but his physical discomfort faded with languid strokes of my fist as I straddled his thighs. My left hand continued stroking as I pushed him down with my right, my hand remaining splayed against his chest as I steadied my weight, sliding further up until somewhat comfortable before attempting an intrusion for the first time in years.

It hurt, almost unbearable as my face tightened with pain, but I was satisfied that I managed it on the first try, tension easing from my body as I acclimated enough to subtly move, enough for him to curse beneath his breath.

“Fucker’s tight,” he grunted, and I smirked, my movement becoming more pronounced.

I was just really getting into it when I felt him tighten up, disappointment warring with self-satisfaction that he hadn’t been able to last long even as I let him empty inside before removing myself.

I didn’t have to work as hard to convince the next man to give me a try, and he was far more willing to allow me to dictate the situation. I sat facing away this time, languidly looking over my shoulder every so often and starting to lose myself in a pleasant haze.

Somewhere, I lost track of this man’s orgasm and another’s before someone else was bending me forward, entering me from behind.

But his thrusts were doing nothing for me, and I eventually tired enough for me to hiss, “Hold still!”

Once he had, I situated some, righting the angle and then moving myself back against him a few times before allowing him to take over once more, ignoring his fingers on my hips as I reached beneath my abdomen and grabbed my own erection, gently stroking to keep myself aroused until he’d finished.

Unable to do more than lower to the ground and roll onto my side, I began roughly tugging at my erection, hoping to get my body to quickly come before I grew too tired, already lagging as emotional pain again rose to the surface.

I was ashamed of myself, lying there on the stone floor slick with come but still wanting my own release, and when I could no longer summon the strength to continue, a self-degrading and needy sob jerked from my throat.

Without warning, warmth came at my back and an arm slid over my side, hand cupping my angry arousal before squeezing and then stroking. I looked back and found it was the first man, his face again unreadable as he steadily stroked me toward completion; I couldn’t help but give in, closing my eyes and giving my body over to this stranger.

I came with another sob, throaty and low and breeding more of the like as I broke, grieving all over again even as I was pulled up and into an awkward embrace, held that way until I’d managed to calm and push away, avoiding their gazes as someone handed me my pants and I slid them back up and tied about my waist.

Once we were standing as we’d started, the five of them in a line, I felt the weight of my upcoming execution more heavily than before, my shoulders slumped into a posture of defeat. There was no more manipulation left in me, an emptiness stealing in where my grief had once been.

It was only when the guards returned to escort me back that I managed to look each of the men in the face once more, taking in their stony expressions.

As I was being tugged away, I resisted long enough to honestly state, “Thank you,” before allowing myself to be pulled away, out of the room and back to my cell.

My body ached, for which I was grateful, knowing it’d help me fall asleep. Indeed, I was out not long after easing down to the floor, staring up at the softly dark slot in the wall allowing me small contact with the outside world before I was abruptly wakened about an hour before dawn.

I was grim, failure sitting heavy on my chest, but it helped knowing I’d done my best in fulfilling my promise to Luke, that I’d done my best to live.

Now I had nothing left to do but face death with dignity.

When the time came, Oran lead the group escorting me through the halls and out into the courtyard, the usual crowd of onlookers already assembled for my execution. I barely glanced them over, ignoring the jeers and calls as my attention instead went to where the five men I’d spent the night pleasuring were waiting for me.

We didn’t spare the other more than a passing glance as I was led over to an unassuming wall peppered already with old gunshot--my bound arms were pressed to the wall before I was left alone there, the guards withdrawing to the sides.

The morning was cold and rather damp, the onlookers bundled in warm woolen shawls and cloaks against the chill, but I never even felt the moisture soaking my clothing against my skin, my mind not lingering long on my inadequate clothing.

My overall bearing was one of calm, already accepting the close to my life.

The morning dawned slowly, the sun’s rays moving across the courtyard, and perhaps it was because I was so close to death, but I felt as though I’d never seen a more beautiful sunrise, as if it was glorious in pity.

It was only once the courtyard was fully illuminated that Oran’s commanding voice rang out in the sudden hushing silence.

“Rebish Leblanc, you have been sentenced to death for acts of treason against the King and his subjects. Do you have any last words before your sentence is carried forth?”

My eyes narrowed against the harsh sun, I responded, “Don’t blind me, sir, don’t put me to death a coward.”

His back to the crowd, I had exclusive access to the mixed expressions on his face before he regained composure enough to give a curt nod.

“Very well.”

He stepped back, waving aside the man who was to blindfold me back into place with the other guards.

Once out of the path of the bullets, Oran called sharply, “Mark your weapons!”

I held steady as those five rifles rose practically as one, sighted on me by the best marksmen to be found in the kingdom. Not a one turned his eyes away when met with my gaze, their faces impassive as they held in wait for the order to fire.

“Steady….” Oran called, and the clicking of arming rifles rent the air.

The silence held, achingly slow as my heart clenched in pain at my unfulfilled promise--I have failed.

“Fire!”

I never heard the shots, not loud enough to burst through the sound of rushing blood in my ears as I was jerked back against the wall and slumping down to the ground, time slowing to a crawl as I waited to die.

Only, the pain caught up with me before death managed the same, my lungs continuing to bring in ragged gasps. The pain was crippling but it wasn’t killing me, and I from that, I found the strength and coordination to slide my feet beneath me, using the wall for support as I pushed upright.

My ears cleared enough for the roar of the crowd to filter through, my stomach turning at the rhythmic chanting of, “Kill, kill, kill….”

Oran hesitated, but then gathered his resolve and raised one arm to the men, commanding them to mark me once again. But like me, he understood that if these men had wanted me dead, I would be; because, here I was, standing tall despite the five bullet holes draining blood, but missing all vital organs.

When the men marked me once more, silence fell from the crowd, long moments of painful expectation as Oran hesitated on giving a firing order for the second time.

My breathing was the only sound loud enough to carry through the courtyard, and it sounded for a minute or two before one of the men lowered his rifle to his side, quickly followed by the others doing the same. And even though he himself had hesitated, Oran appeared furious with his men, obviously realizing what was already sinking in to me.

The long-standing law decrees that any man to survive the firing squad is free of any and all charges placed against him. Quite obviously, this sort of occurrence never happens, or else the conditions would have been abolished long ago. Even the king himself could’t order these men to shoot me now without making a martyr of me.

Relief and blood-loss caused me to slide back down the wall, a smile ghosting along my lips as I smirked in the face of General Oran.

-- -- -- --

It was far too easy to pass the outer sentries, even if I creep through the dark as if a moving shadow of a breeze--that was still no excuse for lax security.

I’d nearly made it past the inner ring of sentries when I was grabbed from behind, a blade pressed against my throat as a man growled, “One move, an’ yer throat is mine.”

The grimly hollow voice made me smile, warmth spreading through my gut as I held still until he eased the hold enough to allow me to speak.

“State your purp’se here, stranger,” he ordered, voice suspicious and dark.

“Already forgotten my sworn quest for vengeance, Marcus?”

The moment he heard my voice, the blade disappeared from my throat and I was roughly whipped around, my hood jerked from my head to reveal my features in the faint moonlight. I had a vague feeling of déjà vu, but hid it with a small grin at seeing his astonishment.

“Rebish?”

“None oth’r, friend,” I replied, only slightly startled when Marcus threw himself at my form and tightly embraced me, arms trembling even as I stoically held back a wince of residual pain.

“You’re supp’sed ‘ta be dead!” he gasped, pulling back and gripping my shoulders as if to reaffirm that I was real.

“Very nearly was,” I affirmed, mind replaying that eventful morning just a few weeks past.

“I had hoped…when we couldn’t find your body with the others, with Edward…. I saw what you’d done for him, Reb, and I just knew you weren’t…. Thank you, for doing it, you know how much it means to me.”

His eyes remained fastened on mine, and I had to turn from the piercing honesty of that gaze.

“Well, I m’de you a pr’mise, now didn’t I? and I always ke’p a pr’mise.”

Swallowing down my thickening emotions, I continued, “Still ‘ave two men ‘afore my pr’mise to Luke is ‘onored, but I aim to k’ep that one too.”

“I killed Garcia, Reb. We were in Grinhold and I took the liberty, I’m sorry.”

I stared; “You did what?”

Embarrassed, he let go and looked into the darkness of the wood; “I killed Garcia for you. I just thought…if you were dead…you’d need someone to finish it.”

“…You would do tha’ for me, for my Luke?”

If anything, he became even more flustered than before, stumbling over his words as he excused his actions. “It was ‘portant to you, and I…it was right. It were th’ right thing to do, and anybody would have done the same. Anybody.”

I was still mostly at a loss for words, and he finally looked at me, eyes shining. “You made a promise to avenge the man you love, and I…did the same.”

When I didn’t immediately respond, his face moved into shadow, voice soft and slightly pained as he said, “I know there’s no interest in you to love another man, Rebish, not after him, but….”

He shrugged one shoulder, mouth twisting into that signature smile, strained though it was. I’d never even noticed that smile before, how it turned on for me, for Edward, but never for anyone else. It hadn’t been long after the pair arrived that he’d earned the name amongst the men, the Deuce, the shadow of Rebish Leblanc, and it had nothing to do with his skill in blades and archery.

The man I’d always considered closer than friend turned his smile more honest, amusement creeping back into his voice as he liltingly stated, “You’re going to become legend you know, escapin’ the king’s men. There were some always said you could turn phantasm and spirit off through solid stone walls if you wished, and this ‘ent going to ‘elp.”

But I barely heard it, mind whirring and weighing options against instincts, until there were just two clear possibilities. Once I recognized what they were, the decision was easy, and a smile played at the corners of my mouth, unseen in the dark.

“Marcus…,” I paused, drawing in strength as I moved closer, my voice low, “…There is room left in me to learn to love another, if he’s you.”

He sucked in a breath, voice taut; “Don’t say it if you c’nt mean it, if you c’nt promise.”

Because I always keep a promise.

Only half amused, I reached up and brought his face down for me to press a light kiss to his lax mouth, a wordless admission that had him deepening the kiss, buying a right to them in the future. He needed that reassurance, and it was only after he pulled away again that I realized I’d needed it too.

He embraced me again, strong arms squeezing my ribs and pulling a grunt from my lungs, my hands pushing him back as I pulled in a steady breath, willing the pain to flutter back beneath the surface.

“Reb?”

I cocked a faint grin his way; “Martin wasn’t so rash, you know, in his idea to escape the squad.”

“You? You faced the squad and lived?!”

I laughed, arms coming up at my sides as I challenged, “I’m standin’ ‘ere, ent I?”

Seeing his disbelief, I pulled up my shirt with one arm and grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand closer until his fingers brushed puckered scars, lingering reminders of the bullets that had torn through my flesh and left me still living.

Awed, he found them all, spending the most time tracing the circle closest to my heart.

“They missed?”

“No.”

He didn’t look at me; “Then….”

I grabbed his hand and pulled it from my skin, but held it a moment as I forthright admitted, “They fucked me, Marcus, they fucked me and were unable to kill me, just as Martin said.”

“It worked.”

I smiled; “It worked.”

He was quiet for a long time before he looked at me, smile slipping across his face; “Show me how you managed it, sometime.”

My laughter was surprising, and it buoyed me back to the camp after I left Marcus to finish the remainder of his sentry duty. There was no doubt in mind he’d make room inside my heart for another, his foothold was already that strong.

--- (epilogue)

The breeze running across hard-shingled roofs was full of desert heat, and we ran along with it, crouched and slinking away from human eyes. Voices from the market below easily carried upwards, mid-morning sun unmerciful as it turned exposed flesh dark before beginning to burn from the inside out.

Eventually landing on the right building, we exchanged loaded glances, carrying out entire conversations without having to utter a word. The window we needed was just beneath an eave, and I signaled for Marcus to drop over and through first, keeping lookout from above for anyone watching before following soon after.

The inn’s room was empty, but from the gear left behind, the occupant was going to be coming back. Until then, we ran quick surveillance on the room before installing ourselves into our positions--Marcus by the window, and myself just behind the door once it’d open inward. I’d left my bow behind in our own inn, keeping to the thin blades I had tucked in my sleeves and Marcus’.

And we waited.

-

It was nearing dark by the time footfalls stopped before the door rather than pass it by, and a man shut the door behind him before realizing that he wasn’t alone. Before he had time to do more than clutch for the long blade strapped to his side, Marcus’ knife flew across the room and into his chest, forcing me to catch the man before he could fall and alert foul play to anyone beyond the room.

He wasn’t quite dead when Marcus reclaimed his blade, a low gurgle sliding from his throat as he gaped at us, but before long, the light left his stare and I sat back on my heels.

It was done, he was the last.

Took four months to track him down--had to leave the rebels to get this far, tracking him out of country and to the south. Marcus never questioned leaving, and more and more, I felt myself drawn for the northern shores, living near the sea as I’d done up through my adolescence, when I’d apprenticed to a tanner with a nephew.

“Reb, it’s getting on dark.”

Marcus’ whisper pulled me from my thoughts, seeing him glance out the window and then back at me.

“What are your thoughts on going north?”

“What’s north?”

I smiled; “Home.”

His grin cocked one side of his face; “Sure thing, s’long we get out of here alive, eh Reb?”

I snickered low, going to the window and looking out before reaching up for the eave and hauling myself back onto the roof, putting a hand back down for Marcus’ and pulling him up behind me. We paused there a moment, the hot breeze from before drying sweat into something powdery on the skin, the dead man lying beneath the roof under our feet righting the wrongs of my world.

“North, ye said?”

I looked up at the darkening sky; “Home, Marcus. We’re going home.”

-

It didn’t take us long to return to our room and leave the inn, making our way out of town and disappearing into the surrounding darkness and swallowed by the night.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

A/N: El Fin.