"Jazen?" Daemon asked his valet.
"Yes Prince?" Jazen said, trying to straighten the shirts he was putting in Daemon's closet so he wouldn't have to worry about ironing later. He would often work in his employer's room when his employer was there, and they spoke sometimes.
"Is there a reason why a healer came to my door asking about you?" Daemon asked, turning to look at his valet.
Jazen looked very confused for a moment. "A healer?"
"Yes, a woman named Malene," he said.
Jazen flushed and tried not to rub his forehead. "A reason, Prince, but not a good one," he said. He probably shouldn't have said it that way because now the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan looked interested, and that was the last thing he needed.
"Oh? What is this not good reason?" he asked.
There was no way to really explain without it sounding very, very bad. "She wants me to spend time with one of her patients," he said. He same Daemon's eyebrow raise and wished that he'd waited to hang up the shirts, even if it meant extra ironing.
"Is he-" Daemon started and Jazen knew what he was asking.
"She," he corrected.
"She?" Daemon asked, very interested suddenly.
Jazen couldn't help but sigh. "Prince, it's not important enough for you to worry about," he said.
"Well, it is the first interesting thing that's happened to my valet in a long time," Daemon said, and Jazen suddenly felt that his employer was still holding a grudge from the first time Jazen had met Jaenelle and had accidentally called Daemon boring. The problem with long lived races is that they had plenty of time to hold a grudge.
"Malene thinks that if I spend time with her patient that her patient will adjust to be around men," he said. He didn't need to say more. Jazen knew it was bad. There was never, never a good reason for a woman to be afraid of men, and as someone who'd been forced to be around women under the pretense of ringed-men being harmless; Daemon SaDiablo didn't take the idea of his employee being used like that well.
"Jazen," Daemon started, but Jazen felt like he had to send this before it got any farther.
"Sir, this isn't a problem" Jazen said. "Malene is… very blunt, but she's trying to help a woman who the last three times a man has gotten anywhere near her she's ended up getting hurt simply because she panics so badly," Jazen said.
The storm Jazen felt started to settle down, and he felt relieved. Or he did until Daemon asked his next question. "And is there a reason why you said no?"
That was how Jazen found himself visiting Terry's pub with strict instructions to spend time with a woman who clearly did not want him around. It didn't help that Terry seemed to feel so awkward about it, but at least he was staying in the bar area. Birdie was moving around the back, working to be sure that her kitchen was ready for the rush.
"Can you be a dear and get me the mixing bowl off the top shelf?" Birdie asked. She just wasn't tall enough to reach, which is part of why Jazen got it for her. It was that and he didn't feel comfortable having nothing to do. When he had nothing to do he ended up glancing uncomfortable at Annalie, who would glance uncomfortably back. It got even worse when Biridie would leave for a moment, as neither of them would so much as breathe until she returned.
Birdie hummed as she moved in and out of the room. "Okay, I'll be out for the rush," she chirped.
"Do you need anything?" Jazen asked, proud of himself for not sounding panicked.
"No, don't worry. If we got problems, we'll tell you," she said. Apparently she seemed to think the past few uncomfortable hours were good enough to get Annalie relaxed enough around him to not set her off. Well, she hadn't panicked yet, but then the only times he'd moved were when Birdie was in the room.
Birdie headed out, and again they fell into silence. Jazen's eyes moved to everything in the room that wasn't Annalie. He didn't want her to catch him looking at her and think he was staring, especially since he'd seen her glance back at him a few times. Finally his eyes switched over to her cooking.
"You're about to set your potatoes on fire," he commented. She jumped a little and he winced, waiting for her to knock something over and end up spilling hot oil on herself. Instead she looked down at him and then at her potatoes, turning down the heat a little.
"Oh, right," she said quietly. Jazen realized this was the first time he'd heard her speak, since the only time he'd heard her voice before was screaming. It was nice. It had a deep, husky, slightly hoarse quality that he liked. It reminded him a bit of his mother's. Though, in her case it was because she'd smoked since her youth and didn't trust healers to help her lung. He wondered for a moment if his mother was even still alive, then he pushed that thought aside. Besides, he doubted smoking had caused the hoarse quality of Annalie's voice.
"Hm?" he asked, suddenly realizing that she'd said something and he hadn't heard.
"Why are you here?" she asked again, not looking at him but at the many pots she had on to cook.
"Malene asked me to be here," he said.
"No, she told me that you weren't coming, so why are you here?" she asked.
"Wait, did she tell you I was coming before?" he asked.
"I asked her if you would come," she said.
"You asked her? You asked Malene?" he asked, a little stumped as to why.
"You feel different," she mumbled, but he heard her just him.
"Different," he said rather flatly. There was something about the ways he said it that annoyed him, but he wasn't going to press at why.
"Terry tries," she said. "But he's so nervous and I forget sometimes," she said. "I've learned to be around him because Birdie's normally with him. But he's nervous, and it makes me nervous. I don't understand why he's so scared of me."
"He's afraid he'll say something to upset you," he said with too much understanding in his voice. His eyes met Annalie's for a moment before he broke the gaze. He didn't mean to meet her eye, and he hadn't been expecting for her to turn to look at him at that moment.
"How do you know that?"
"I have scars like you do," he said simply. It really wasn't all that dissimilar either.
"Oh," Annalie said thoughtfully, starting to work on putting plates together. "Help me," she said. Jazen knew an order when he heard one. He walked over and rolled up his sleeves, helping her get the plates together for when Birdie came back for them.
"Why did you ask for me?" he asked.
"You looked at me like you understood. It wasn't fear,or lust or pity, you just knew," she said. "And besides… I don't want to panic every time I see a male," she said.
"It's inconvenient," he said like he understood.
"It's a weakness, an obvious one I don't want to have," she said. She glanced over at Jazen and he felt a little surprised by the strength in her eyes. She was terrified. She was in a new place where nothing was like she knew, and she could tell that she needed to be better and that no one would force her to but she was forcing herself.
"You have a lot of courage," Jazen said. "Probably more than me," he said. He wouldn't have made the journey to Kaeleer alone. Daemon brought him only because he felt a bit of companionship with him and didn't want to force him to stay in a place with no one to protect him. That had bit more than a little, but Jazen had followed because he like so many others craved something, anything like a life.
"No, I was just too scared to stay where I was," she said.
"Where were you before?" he asked, feeling like she wanted him to ask, like there was something she was bursting to say, a secret that she shouldn't have but she needed someone to hear it.
"I'm from Dhemlan Terrielle," she said. "I lived in a little village called New Hallaway, a place made for people who left the old Hallaway when it started to turn," she said. "But the taint stuck to everything," she said. "And eventually it came to my village, like the lies about the black widows, and the slaves and everything else," she said.
"My grandmother used to say that our people were strong and we fought because the High Lord of Hell protected us, but I didn't know he was even real until I got here and heard he used to be alive here," she said. "And I hated him then, because how could he possibly have left us alone. My grandmother said that he took care of us, but where was he when Dhemlan finally broke and when Dorothea ruled everything and when the witch storm killed so many and when the landens attacked or anywhere in the past century where we've all starved and suffered with nothing?" she asked him, but she didn't expect an answer her.
"He didn't care about us because we, by mere association of where we lived weren't as dark, weren't as good, and he stopped helping. And then the bastard up and died and his son won't even look our way!" she snapped.
Jazen was silent for a moment, not wanting to upset her any more or make her have another attack, but she annoyed him. Daemon SaDiablo was a great man, one Jazen both liked and respected. He never wanted to work for anyone else, and she'd just insulted that man who had understood him and helped him when no one else could even touch him. "You realize that you live in a territory ruled by the man you just called a bastard?" he asked, but she didn't notice the ice in his voice.
"Because if I went anywhere else it would be so unfamiliar I wouldn't be able to stand it, not because I like or even respect him. This land is so wealthy and all of terrielle is suffering and broken with no hope, no help, and no one who can do anything about it," she hissed.
"Now-" he started, but cut himself off. He didn't think about Terrielle, didn't like to think about it. As such he never had considered what happened to the place after Jaenelle unleashed her attack against Dorothea and the others she'd tainted. Suddenly he wondered what would happen to the men like him who had no one to guide them, no help, not real funds, with the only thing that bound them all together, Protocol, being so bastardized that none of them would be able to really improve. Could they form anything better than what they had from the understanding they had from before Dorothea died? He doubted it.
"You're right, we shouldn't be talking about this," she said softly. "There's no one else I can tell because Terry worked for the bastard, and everyone else is either afraid of him or enamored of him," she said darkly before sighing again. She glanced up, seeing Birdie come in to collect the plates.
"It seems you two are getting along well," Birdie said, winking as she left. It was Jazen's turn to sigh. What was with that wink? What did she think he was trying to do? Oh well.
"You were saying?" he asked, starting to work on my plates.
'It's nothing. It's too heavy a discussion for now," she said. "I don't even know you… hey, you're not going to tell anyone, are you?" she asked.
"Why would I tell?" he asked.
"I don't know, to get me in trouble, improve your place around here?" she suggested.
"It doesn't work that way here," Jazen said. "Besides, I have a good enough place here, thank you very much," he said.
"Are you looking down on my homeland too?" she asked, starting to sizzle.
"No, I'm from there too," he said.
"Really?" she asked, sounding nearly breathless with want, a want he knew, someone to understand.
"Yes, but I don't like thinking about it," he said firmly and watched with a pang of guilt as her face fell.
"Alright then, Warlord, I won't mention it again," she said.
"Jazen, just Jazen," he corrected.
She looked at him for a moment. "Malene calls you Jazzy," she said.
"Over my express wishes, but she out ranks me and she's Malene," he pointed out, which made her smile just the tiniest bit. It was a nice smile, something that made his heart ache a little and her chalked it up to him knowing how hard a smile could be to get from someone who was hurt.
"Okay, then just Jazen," she said. "Umm…" she hesitated, starting to stir the soup nervously. "Umm… I suppose… that, if you want that is… that is, if you want, I suppose that um… You can call me Annalie," she said.
Jazen smiled a little. "Then I will call you Annalie, if you don't mind, that is," he said.
Annalie looked at him, looking nervous, too nervous. He realized how close they were and he took a very steps back, keeping his hands up where she could see them. He didn't stop moving until he noted the slight twitch in her shoulders, a small slump. Then he stopped and he shoulders relaxed completely.
"Th… thank you," she said quietly and went back to cooking. They didn't speak again during the rush. They didn't speak again until he said goodbye to her when he planned to go home. She didn't speak to him, merely shrugged in acknowledgement. She'd reached her limit, and he appreciated that. It took a lot to talk to him at all, he expected.
Jazen returned to the Hall, considering her words. They didn't really take hold of his mind until the next morning, when he was working with Prince SaDiablo's clothes. "May I ask you a question?" he asked Daemon, who was busy brushing his hair.
"Yes," his employer said, glancing at him from the mirror.
"Has any help been sent to Terrielle?" Jazen asked, stopping to look at the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan.
"There is, in Shalador Nehele," he said.
"No, I mean outside of that," Jazen said.
"No, not from Dhemlan, or from the outside territories that I am aware of," Daemon said, his eyes narrowing a bit. "Why?" he asked.
"Curious," Jazen answered, but now he was thinking. "Do you think that the people in those other territories will be able to rebuild without the correct Protocol?" he asked.
Daemon considered it. "Some will search for it, and go to Shalador Nehele, which some have… and some will go to the Keep, which some have as well," he added. "But no, most won't," he said.
"Will the blood survive in the places that don't?" Jazen asked.
"Jazen, what's wrong?" Daemon asked.
"Nothing," Jazen said. "I just had a thought, one that wouldn't go away," he said, sounding as distracted as he was.
"Jazen," Daemon said, and his employee knew enough to snap out of his thoughts and look at him. "How did yesterday go?"
"Better than I thought," Jazen said. "She didn't have a panic attack," he said. That was something to be grateful for, anyway. "Why did you send me?" he asked. Daemon had insisted he go, but hadn't said why. He'd assumed it was as pay back for something, but Daemon's question was neither idle nor amused.
"Because if it was you, then she wouldn't have such a large panic attack," Daemon said.
"How do you know that?" Jazen asked, casting his eyes at the hand that hid Daemon's snake tooth. He knew where it was well enough for when it caught on Daemon's sleeve and caused little picks.
"Not that," Daemon said. "We do employ women who have had problems before. You don't think I notice, but you are one of the first people called to help," he said. "You are careful with them and they calm down," he said. His eyes met Jazen's. "You were hurt, so you understand pain," he said simply.
"Yes, sir," Jazen said quietly.
"Are there any other questions?"
"No, sir."
"Then I have to see Marcus," Daemon said. "Have a good day Warlord." And with that he left, leaving Jazen alone and with much to think about.
Yeah, author notes and fun facts time!
First off, my roommate was making a joke about fanfiction only being about sex. I feel like I need to clarify this.
Second, I know I really annoyed the hell out of some of you when I started talking about Saetan. I recently got my friend to (finally) start reading the series. She's only half way through the first book and her complaints about Saetan are already my complaints, but we both agree that we truly, truly love him. He's just very loveable. We also agreed that this series is a Christian analogy, whether it was meant to be that or not… but come on, Jaenelle (whose name starts with a J) is a Christ figure. There's the trinity, and Saetan is in many ways God himself. What this means is that when I start arguing about why Saetan has such seriously flaws of judgment that causes a lot of the series problems and someone mentions honor I end up having to bring up that he kept out of a lot of it because he's dead and doesn't want the dead to influence the living, and the next thing you know I'm talking about the free will debate and I need to bang my head against a table.
Third, Birdie is a name I picked off the Black Jewels Wiki at random. Normally I put an insane amount of work into the names I use. Dhemlan names (I've noticed) are rather like Scandinavian names, as are Eryien names. Hayllian names are specifically greek in origin. Annalie is a Dhemlan witch, so her name is of a Scandinavian origin. Birdia came because I saw the name on a list of characters, on the BJT Wiki and couldn't remember who that was. It turns out she's a maid (or a cook… wow, I forgot already) who works in the Grayhaven mansion. I've read most of the books many times, and I remember many of the names, but this is one I just couldn't remember at all. I'm rereading the last 2 books now.
Also, super thank you for the reviews. I will do another read and fix later on these chapters. Yeah, so I wrote Daemon, but I don't like writing him that much. I'm not sure I did okay. I don't think this story has a lot of humor, but I promise it picks up.