Two days- Malvina had learnt years before- passed awfully slowly when one was black and blue all over. Still, those days before they left for Skyrim had seemed particularly agonizing. The reason for that, she could tell, was the masked man at the foot of her bed, carelessly looking through some sort of notes of his. Out of lack of things to do, she scoffed at him and watched him carefully. For someone who had been bullied into making that book, the Dragon Priest was taking the whole writing business much too seriously. She supposed she should have been glad, grateful even, but her acquired distrust for the man was preventing her from feeling such a thing. It was something to be expected, of course, after that little incident with the dragon; the one that was responsible for the deplorable state she found herself in.
"Have you nothing better to do but stare at me?" Miraak suddenly sneered, and his tone dripped with something akin to disdain. "It's pathetic." He didn't even had the decency to face her when he spoke, and she only narrowed her eyes further at that, infusing more loathing into her glower. Maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could make him hurt from it.
After only ten disappointing seconds of nothing happening, Malvina lashed at him verbally. That was always her option number 'two'. "Well, I could be in the market hunting for supplies, had I not been mauled half-to-death by a fire-breathing lizard!" The woman readjusted her left arm over her covers. She had been unable to get up from bed since he'd so rudely thrown her there when they got back to the inn.
It was plainly clear she was blaming him for that.
The man chuckled lowly, more amused than anything by her assuming, ego-centrist attitude, and thanks to that infuriating mask, the sound was even more eerie than she'd remembered it to be. Life was so unfair.
"You would assume everyone is obliged to care for your person and interests." He murmured, his nonchalance grating and out of place, in the Breton's opinion. "Allow me to inform you, woman, that the whole world does not owe you anything. And it would not reward you much, even if it did."
She knew he was smirking, and she knew it with fierce certainty. Malvina found that mask irked her more than before; for reason only gods knew, she wanted to see that stupid smirk. It was with that in mind that her glare became even sharper.
"Everyone on Nirn, with the exception of few, owes me their lives, at least." She hissed, partly out of anger and partly out of pain, for one of her wounds had just opened. Yes, indeed, something wet and warm seeped into her clothes; and since she'd stopped sleeping with food in her pockets long before she'd discovered Skyrim, the possibility of that not being her blood was ridiculously slim.
In a fleeting moment of pain-induced delirium, she considered the advantages and disadvantages of both scenarios. For once, blood was harder to wash than honey, but it was easier to stand sticking to the skin than that sticky, sugary-
"Were you hit by a draining spell? You look weak, and your fingernails are digging hard enough in your arms to leave marks." He asked that with such disconcert, she looked at him crossly. "Why do you care?" She snapped with some difficulty, and she hoped it didn't show. Heh, he was probably just messing with her anyway, nothing new there…
"I have my reasons." He answered, and his voice was so smooth and self-assured she wanted to choke him. Had she not been preoccupied with a second wound opening, she might have found the message itself peculiar, too. It was just too bad she was so dizzy with pain.
"Say, do you know any Restoration magic?" If questioned what gave her the idea that asking him that, of all things, made sense, she would say- well, something not at all related to the subject, probably, and hope it would serve as a good distraction.
She didn't really know herself, and she definitely didn't want him to know that.
"Excuse me?"
"I think… " She stopped, inhaling sharply, and bit the inside of her cheek to stop any sound of distress pass he lips. A new wave of pain ripped through her body, and, well… "I, ugh, could use some healing. My wounds opened again."-that wasn't a scratch gotten in a bar fight, damn it, she needed a bit of help! Curse that dragon for destroying her potions!
It killed her to have to ask Miraak for help, but the injuries were killing her more painfully, not to mention faster, than shame.
The First Dragonborn silently put away his work and lifted himself from his seat. The sad excuse of a chair he had been sitting in made an unpleasant sound when he did so, but aside from that, the room remained silent.
"I hate silence…" The Breton mumbled in response, and took some time to internally curse that mask of his to Oblivion and back once she had Miraak's tall frame towering over her bed. First of all because it was something to do, other than concentrate on her predicament – and that damned pain- and second of all because, with it on, she had virtually no idea of Miraak's intentions. The bastard could have been frowning at her for forcing him to heal her, thinking about how she didn't deserve his help….
…or he could have very well been smirking and planning to take advantage of her weakness and assassinate her, helpless as she was on that old, dirty bed.
That being said, there were probably two in ten scenarios where she didn't die a horrible death. He would only need not to heal her for her to have a good chance to die, too.
All in all, her day was just going great.
"I shall warn you only once-" His voice, reverberating so loudly due to the Nord's vicinity, startled Malvina enough for her to stop thinking about what the Dunmer folks in Raven Rock would do to her dead body; If he left her body intact, of course (would they put her incinerated self in an urn?). "-should you try to kick, punch or wiggle out of my grasp, I'm going back to my business and letting you bleed to death." Well, she supposed that made sense- Wait, what?
The woman blinked slowly, trying to catch up with what exactly he'd said. It was such a strange thing, to hear him indirectly admit he was willing not to let her die; it was almost sacrilegious, came to think of it. Wasn't he the one who had rooted for that Dragon a short while back? What was the most puzzling was how easily he'd complied; never in the months since she'd learned of the man, had she thought he would help her- Malvina- the person he hated most on Nirn.
Sweet Dibella, Miraak was most likely possessed, there was no other justification Malvina could think of for it… and if that was true, it was quite unlikely that giving him authority over her body- no matter how briefly- was that much of a good idea.
It was too late to change much it seemed, though, his hands were already surrounded by a warm orange glow, and despite the fact she usually found the burn of healing spells reassuring, she could only notice how the light made the shine of his mask give him a more fierce appearance.
Damn it all, she really did hate that thing….
Faced with such second thoughts, she made and last effort to protest. "Ugh, maybe…uh…maybe it wasn-" It was useless, really, because Miraak was already leaning over her, probably wondering why she was acting so childish. The woman observed that he was so infuriating tall, she could see little but his body.
The Nord's palm over her upper arm was burningly hot. "Lay still." He hissed, and something was surely not right, because she froze mindlessly where she was, heeding his instructions. That in itself was weird, for she never heeded instructions so easily! "Close Wounds." He whispered, mildly irritated, and it was a sound both soft and rumbling.
There was pain everywhere, like an explosion had been set up inside her, and she finally broke, and whimpered.
The noise she made din not sound very human-like, and she blamed the Companions for that, because it was their fault she was so often called a mutt- although the exact term was a bit more female-specific. She didn't remember healing to hurt so badly, there were just a few chunks of meat missing and a broken bone or two, nothing compared to what she had to deal with when she fought that smug lizard, Alduin. Miraak was definitely killing her, then; it was decided.
"You…treacherous…" It was so hard to breath, and so exhausting to talk, but that needed to be said. "….shameless, bastard…" The Breton was so clearly about to pass out it wasn't even funny anymore…
"Excuse me?" That was just about the part he lifted an insolent eyebrow at her, she assumed, but she couldn't tell, and it had nothing to do with the blackness that had started clouding her eyes.
Gods, he was so hard to read. Stupid Miraak, stupid mask, stupid attitude.
She really needed to pawn that thing, since he insisted on keeping in on his face.
"You are such a strange woman…" Had he said anything but that, she didn't catch it; what she could safely say was that he it didn't sound like something someone supervising a murder would say (How did she know that? Well, that was harder to explain that dragons flying backwards…). Still, everything was losing focus around her, and it was a lot like being trapped in Pelagius' mind all over again.
At least the blackness took away the pain, but she had never enjoyed being unconscious much.
...
...
...
"Sir…the captain sent me to tell'ya the ship set sails in a couple of hours." Nervously, the small elf drew circles in the floor with one of his feet. He was barefooted, what a surprise.
"Indeed?" Enjoying the fear that read in all of his gestures, Miraak turned in his chair, fluidly putting down his book. "Very well…" He drawled, smirking briefly under his mask. "It has been noted." He was just as direct as always, and it was puzzling why the elf lingered, still staring fixedly at the floor.
The former Dragon Pries sighed, a bit frustrated with the youngling. "You can go." How daft could one be? Was that not obvious?
"Umm, Sir…?" Even after his clear dismissal, the elf stumbled over his words, showing reluctance to leave. What was even more annoying was that he said nothing else.
"Yes?" This was getting tiring. "What is it already?"
"Is she…is she alright?" Skittishly, he pointed to the woman spread out on the bed.
Really, that was what everything was about? That Breton had her way of annoying him even when she was no longer really there.
"She's fine." He managed to say through his teeth; he ready had not time for these kinds of things. "We'll be there, just like he'd been told times before. Tell your captain not to doubt my word, or I shall be forced to deal with him personally. " The lad froze, and his already wide eyes turned unnaturally so.
"That is all." The First Dragonborn rasped.
Finally -finally-, the elf ran out the door.
So, it took a bit longer to wrap this chapter up- I wasted 4 days on less than 2% of this, but, yeah. Anyway, thanks everyone for reviewing and letting me know what you think about that "thing" I said in the last chapter. Don't worry; I'm not planning on changing things too much. I'll just make the sexual tension -which is apparently present already, I didn't think it was enough to be noticeable :)) – a bit more visible. I hope everyone is enjoying this story so far, and will continue to enjoy it in the future (we're about half-way through, I think)!
