âo, p, q, ah r, here!â Ezra excitedly whispered to himself and turning into what he would consider a corridor more than an isle of records. The Royal archives were vast in knowledge and in size. Ezra would often spend his time here when he wasnât out on an assignment from his queen. He liked the peacefulness of the place, the old smell of books and dust was a comfort to him. He skimmed a scarred hand along the leather worn spines of the record books, whisper "Rosenbloom" under his breath until he came upon the correct row. He stopped and leaned in close, searching the meticulously organized books for the next letter, o through s. He eventual found the record book that held the last names and tugged it from its spot, nearly yelping out from its unexpected weight. He cleared his throat softly and settled on the ground with the ancient thing, deciding it easier than carrying the brick of a book back to a desk.
Adjusting his spectacles, Ezra opened the book as gently as possible and started flipping through the pages, the authorâs name, Dorian Rosenbloom, still on the tip of his tongue as he skimmed what he assumed were thousands of names.
The more the name was repeated, the more Ezra began thinking back on the book, particularly one part he remembered underlining. It wasnât like his other annotions, where it filled him with disbelief and more questions he knew heâd never get answers to. Instead he had just sat there and reread the paragraph.
âTheir name, sweet upon their loverâs tounge, like honey, like ambrosia from the gods themselves. It barely had to be spoken aloud for it to coat their lips in the sugary sweetness of a pastry, the warmth of spiced wine, the comforting heat of coffee on a cold winters day. Its what had been whispered in greeting each delightful morning followed by slow, sleepy kisses and what was whispered each night after tender love, lingering even after they had fallen asleep In each otherâs arms.â
After he had read and reread the paragraph more times than he would ever admit, Ezra had stopped reading for the day. There was no need for him to fill his mind with fantasies he knew wouldnât come true. Of course he had dreamed of finding someone to share his life with, like he assumed many did. But he had understood when he had taken up the position of the Queenâs Assassin, something as intimate as loving another in such a way was going to be next to impossible for him. The mere possibility of putting someone Ezra could potentially love so deeply in a situation of great risk just by being associated with him hurt him so deeply that he had set aside putting himself out there for the safety of his potential beloved and himself.
So how in the wide world had this individual, this Dorian Rosenbloom resurrected those fantasies, something Ezra had forbade himself from even thinking about save for those truly desperate moments he had needed some form of comfort? With such simple words, Dorian had unknowingly turned Ezra into an obsessive mess. Look at him! He was on all fours desperately searching for a manâs name, and for what? Jericho had been right, What was Ezra going to say when he finally found Dorain? What answers could he possibly have for Ezra, someone so profoundly broken by the very job he had sacrificed his life and love for.
How? Or better yet, where? Where did you find the words to describe love like this?â Ezra shook his head. No. He wasnât so weak as to ask a stranger that. He was to find dorian and have him explain the ridiculousness that was the portrayal of his very own job. Make him see being an assassin was not to be mocked in this kingdom if he didn't want his head in an execution block. That conversation would not be about love. He didnât need that, not now and not ever. It was to remain what it has always been to Ezra, a pretty fantasy for when he was alone and couldnât find solace in sleep. That's what live was for.
With that at the forefront of his mind, Ezra found Dorianâs record, if not a bit too easily and copied down the address, and set out on his way to the village near the capital, shoving aside his silly heartâs feelings, choosing, as always when on a mission, to stow away his feeling until he could deal with them in peace, whenever that time may come if ever for somone like Ezra. Most likely after his untimely death, considering what he was.