Se'jash stood alone in his chamber, eyeing the sea plants that had been used to heal Caelwen.
The now three-day-old weeds, still drenched in the night elf's long-dried blood, hung from a post near his bedding. The scent they bore still remained fresh within his mind, and it was a smell he could not get out of his head. That elf, Caelwen, was someone who had taken over almost every part of his mind. He could not wait to face her, but... he also started to wish it could wait.
As he said he would before, the two had indeed talked to each other as the last few days passed them by. After the second day had passed, the two were getting along in their little chats like a pair of old friends. Se'jash himself had few 'friends' within the clan he knew well, and much fewer still that he liked to speak with. His weapons before battle like a master talking to his loyal pets. His sister was one whom he occasionally went to for knowledge his lesser mind could not figure out on its own. He sometimes even spoke to Azshara or the Old Gods at one of their many altars, if he was in the mood to submit a prayer to them.
But Caelwen was... something else. Instead of speaking to her like any naga living under his sister's rule, he felt more like he was opening himself up to that elf. It was as if he were a clam exposing its unprotected insides for a fish to gawk at. And for a reason he couldn't explain, he cared not for how much he showed her.
Ceasing his staring, he slithered over to the edge of the room that held his armor. Reaching for it, he donned the various pieces of it over his green-scaled body. He placed his large pauldrons over his shoulders, the thick chestplate over his front, and the long gauntlets over his arms and hands. His long dorsal fins stretched out to their fullest height as he examined himself in a nearby mirror pool he had positioned on the ground nearby. He had every reason to be on edge now.
After all, today was the day the duel would take place.
Caelwen was not doing well in the slightest.
Her once lilac-purple skin had turned to a deathly lavender pallor, brought on not by fear by what she was told was coming soon, but by what she now knew was disease. That headache from a few days ago had progressed into a full-on fever, all thanks to the cold, damp and altogether poor conditions of her prison. She felt weakness in her joints, soreness in all of her limbs, and a crippling headache that made her want to close her eyes and groan for hours. Throughout all that was happening though she tried her best to ignore it, but the sweat that ran down her forehead and the deep, aching breaths she exhaled said otherwise.
In other news, her wound was fully mended and looked almost as if there had not been an injury in the first place, save for the thin, barely-visible scar that remained. In an effort to take her mind off of both the upcoming fight and the virus running rampant in her body, she allowed her mind to go to the naga that had convinced her to change her opinion toward him.
By Elune, Se'jash was an individual she could not figure out. She could not pinpoint exactly what emotion she felt toward him, but whatever it was she had no idea whether to like it or not. After all, he had been the one to wound her greatly, but then again he was the one who tended to her afterword. He was the one who gave her food and water. He was the one who got her to somehow smile despite her predicament. The way he was so civil and caring in spite of his appearance, species and wish to fight her continued to baffle the elf.
As she left her thoughts on that peculiar naga, Caelwen looked to the door of her prison as she noticed a motion of movement catch her eye. What were approaching were two male naga, one of whom held a sack in his hands. Opening her prison and tossing it in, what spilled out from it was what Caelwen recognized through her sickened haze as her armor.
Deciding not to disappoint them, she got to her feet at a leisurely pace and approached her equipment. Calmly handling the various pieces, Caelwen began to put on her armor over her body. After it was done she gave a small nod to the two green-scaled creatures. The first one, armed with a scimitar in his right hand, slithered in and growled, pointing to the door with his sword. With little choice in the matter, she did what he wanted, and exited without an argument. The two males followed behind Caelwen as she entered the long, dark tunnel, making sure she stayed on the path to the arena.
The end of the tunnel came into sight a few minutes later, and another naga stood there, waiting for her. In his hands were what the night elf quickly recognized were her bow, her elven arrows and her moonglaive. Each of them looked the way they did when she last used them, and just seeing her weapons allowed a euphoric feeling to flow through her. With careful hands, she accepted her weapons. Fixing the satchel and bow over her back, with her three-bladed moonglaive in hand, she was prodded in the back by one of the two myrmidons from before to enter the fighting pit. Looking into it she saw, after her eyes adjusted to the light, that in the center stood a lone figure clad in heavy armor and holding a large trident. Just seeing his face revealed to her that it was Se'jash.
After she finished walking up to him, Caelwen looked to Se'jash. The two began to stare at each other, and it lasted for a few, short minutes. Up on the main booth overlooking the gladiatorial ring, Lady Vesh'ari sat with her four hands held together and their webbed fingers all tented, while her tail held onto and balanced her staff. Her faith held in her brother, she could not wait to watch that elf die.
Just looking Caelwen over and how she was told Se'jash that something was off. As if she was attempting to hide or hold in something. Deciding that his thoughts were merely being toyed with by her new, armored and armed shape, or possibly some trick she was trying to use against him, his visage tightened into a glare and he snapped his jaws together with a bestial hiss. Raising his trident in an offensive gesture, he started to slowly slither around her. Caelwen, raising her moonglaive in response, did as he did.
The two began to circle each other. Se'jash's body left a long, smooth trail in the wet, sandy ground, and Caelwen's footsteps left a series of tracks. The crowd watching them from all corners, anticipation building up in the air, waited for the first blow to be struck. The fragile silence that surrounded them was finally broken when Se'jash unleashed a roar and lunged at Caelwen with his trident pointed forward. With only a second to spare, Caelwen ducked under his arm and raised her weapon to his shape as she dodged by him; intending to use the momentum of the naga against himself. One of her moonglaive's three blades struck at the lower side of her foe's dark armor, and while it left a wicked cut that showed well, it failed to completely pierce through it.
Se'jash spun around and faced her. With purpose in her movement, Caelwen had jumped far back, sheathed her moonglaive to her side and took out a bow, notching an arrow onto it. Se'jash had no time to react as she fired at him, but the arrow whizzed by his head, missing him by a scant inch. Elves were well know for their near-supernatural accuracy with bows and arrows, and yet what had just occurred went utterly against such a fact. Se'jash could not dwell on this thought, as he was still in the middle of battle, and so burst forward toward her in a charge.
Caelwen looked shocked upon realizing that she had missed him, all thanks to a sudden mixture of both heavy nauseousness and crippling weakness in her arms and legs. She was unable to move quick enough as the far larger form of Se'jash came upon her. His trident swinging, it cut through her shoulder and the armor covering it with ease. Blood erupting from the wound, she was thrown back by the force of the blow with a cry and crashed upon the ground. The crowd watching cheered in approval of the spectacle they witnessed, and the sound of their voices shouting in unison was almost deafening. Vesh'ari felt tempted to join them, but remained silent as she watched the event unfold to what she hoped would be its conclusion.
Despite her desperate attempt to stand, Caelwen's limbs refused to listen to her, and so she remained where she lied. Coughing, she was just able to place her hand onto her moonglaive and lift her head, only to see the monstrous shape of Se'jash looming over her, casting his large shadow down upon her.
The fight was over. Those were the four words that went through every naga's head as they watched the sight unfold. Finally getting just enough strength from her arms to push herself to her knees, Caelwen looked to Se'jash and saw the three prongs of his trident, stained dark red with her blood, pointed at her face. Letting her moonglaive drop limply from her hand, she closed her eyes, accepting the fate that was to come. Ready for her death, she willingly just sat there on her knees for it until a question graced her long, pointed ears.
"Are you... sick?"
Caelwen's eyes opened. She was still alive, and her opponent had spoken something. "What was that... you said?" she weakly voiced, dumbfounded that he had not finished her off. Se'jash suddenly stretched his free hand out and placed it over her forehead in a quick motion, feeling the strong warmth coming off of it with a scowl; his earfins extending out in a furious display. A second later, he removed his palm.
"You are sick, aren't you?" Se'jash spoke again, finally understanding why she fought so underwhelmingly. His trident lowered with his arm, and his face transformed to one of disappointment. That expression soon soured into a visage of anger, and he slowly turned his head up to where Vesh'ari sat, who was watching her brother relent to execute the elf with great confusion.
"It seems our true duel must be postponed," he spoke aloud in a voice that was heard by all as he stuck the top of his weapon to the ground. "My opponent has caught a disease that has hindered her performance. I wished only for a fair fight between the two of us, and she is still unfit to fulfill that demand."
Vesh'ari left her seat and moved to the edge of her booth, peering down at her brother and the elf with a faint hint of indignation in her refined eyes. "What is the meaning of this, Se'jash?"
"I know what I said." A deep growl reverberated within Se'jash's throat as he turned a low, red eye back to Caelwen behind him. She was shakily getting to her legs, one of her hands held to her wounded shoulder and the other hanging loosely by her side as he went on. "And it will go as I said. You promised me that much, my Lady."
He gave his sister a low, sarcastic bow, and slithered over to Caelwen. "Follow me," a whisper came lightly from his reptilian maw, his hand taking hers into his own. She did not fight back as he began to lead her out of the arena, into an opening tunnel. From where she stood, Vesh'ari wore a disagreeing frown at her brother's actions, and with a brief turn, she quietly left.
As they walked through the tunnel, Caelwen trailed behind Se'jash. Blood continued to drip from the injury she held her hand to, but it felt more numb than painful. Se'jash peered at her from over his shoulder several times, and stopped in his tracks when he saw her halt mid-stride. Her legs had ceased to go a step further, and her entire body was shaking horrendously.
"Can you still walk?" he asked her, very much concerned. Caelwen gave an unsure look to him.
"I... can't," she answered, her breathing becoming very faint as the fever progressed on. Just before she could collapse, and without warning, Caelwen felt as another hand came upon the back of her legs and lifted her up from the ground as Se'jash hoisted the elf's body into his brawny arms. Far too taken by her disease, all she could do was allow him to perform this action with a close-eyed grimace of disapproval. Secured gently in his grasp, the naga began to move with her to another location.
Soon after, Caelwen began to feel her mind fade to nothing. It was urging her to rest. To sleep and recover. With all that had happened, it was a feeling her body fully welcomed, and she soon slipped into a deep unconsciousness in Se'jash's arms as he speedily brought her elsewhere.