Summary: Movieverse, post twitches II, Aron/Miranda, angst, continuation.
Disclaimer: I do not own this. If I did, it would not be a kid's movie. This is not a kid's story. I have not read the books and do not intend to because I like messing with the movie characters. The books may well be better than the movies, but since it's the movies' faults and inaccuracies that inspire my subplots… being too correct would destroy my material.
For once, Aron awakes before Miranda. She must completely be exhausted, because even the sunlight rays across her face do not alert her to the presence of crimson-streaked morning.
He wishes she would look peaceful or safe, but the slight scowl on her face contorts and disturbs her beauty. He wonders if she is hurt again, and curses himself that he cannot even tell if his wife is asleep or passed out.
It is time to wake her. He puts a soft hand on her shoulder and pulls back on it slightly. Even then, she merely rolls onto her back with a tiny painful sound.
Aron dares not shake Miranda awake, for he does not even know how she has been enduring his frequent hugs and embraces. No matter how close to healed she is, this should be aggravating it. The only explanation he can ascertain is that his injured wife has told the truth. The emotional pain of her years of isolation outweighs the physical pain of her family's touch.
"Feel better Miranda." He whispers hoarsely, kissing her hand, "Get well."
Suddenly she cries out, and jerks as if shocked. Her eyes snap open and she coughs rapidly and shortly. Turning away from him, she grips the mattress and struggles for breath.
"You love," she gasps, "Have all the finesse of a dragon in a ballroom."
"What?" he asks, "Are you alright?"
"Of course not," she gasps, clutching her throat as if chocking, "You fool."
"What happened?" He calls.
She tries to get to the door, but staggers as if drunk and ends up holding onto the bedpost in another fit of coughs. "You healed me." She manages in a grating voice, "And you did it all wrong. Get Este! With discretion!"
A few extremely harrying moments later, he half drags half pushes Este into the room. The graying healer takes one look at Miranda and slaps Aron forcefully across the face.
"Child, fool, idiot!" Este snaps, striking him again. "There's a reason we let these heal out! You've hurt her worse than leaving it would have."
"I didn't mean to," he stammers terrified, for Miranda. "I just wanted her to get well."
Este glares at him contemptuously "How old are you, your majesty? Six? This is a child's mistake!" She snaps.
His wife is still breathing loudly and dryly, and looks near to suffocating. Este grabs her shoulders roughly, "Brace!" she barks, and Miranda only has time to seize a handful of the bedspread before a sharp light flashes.
Though for a moment she convulses and shrieks, mere seconds later, Miranda's breathing approaches normal again, "I'm fine." She says, as aloofly as is possible.
"You came blasted near death." Este retorts, shoving her away derisively, "If your imbecile husband's healing had been a shred worse it would have killed you on contact."
"But it wasn't."
"Well, those ribs are set, if not properly. The parts he healed are curved incorrectly. You will never be a long distance runner or have much stamina for battle with a chest structured like that. Unless you break them again they'll…"
"Leave it" Miranda interrupts and waves a dismissive hand, "It'll do."
"No chance that the room was sound-spelled is there?" Este muttered derisively shifting lightly on the balls of her feet.
"Of course it is." Miranda says casually "I've been sound-spelling the rooms I sleep in for decades now.
Este shrugged, "Bloody dangerous. Someday you will scream and now one will hear, mark me, but at least we won't have to explain this to the bloody council."
"No one's run towards my screams for years Este," Miranda snapped bitterly, "But I didn't imagine they wanted to listen to them either."
"Drink this." Este interrupts, proffering a vile with a grimace.
"No painkillers Este." Miranda refuses, pushing it away. "Nothing that strong."
"You haven't been taking them?" Este asks sharply, turning Miranda's chin to get a good look at her face, "I left them for you as soon as I guessed that... They were always gone when I checked… I assumed you were…How else could you…?"
Miranda shakes her head. "Only on the nights when it got… unusually bad. They wreck havoc on my reflexes."
Este shrugs, "Suit yourself." She tells Miranda. Turning to Aron, she adds condescendingly, "See if you can go a day without making it worse." Este walks out of the room.
Miranda does not move from where she lies sprawled across the bed. He crosses to her, but does not touch her.
"I'm sorry." He tells her, humiliated and repentant.
"You fool." She answers sternly. Then she takes his hand and tenderly kisses his ring. "You sweet, innocent, fool."
She turns herself on the bed and straightens her nightdress, keeping a hold of his hand and caressing the back of it, "You're so worried about hurting me. Can't you can't see I'm hurting you?"
Despite his wife's words, her mood seems light. Miranda closes her eyes and rests her head upon the pillow, with a slight smile on her face.
"What are you thinking, love?" Aron asks.
"About our wedding night," His wife answers nostalgically.
"You were very innocent," He sweetly whispers, lightly kissing her forehead.
"So were you," Miranda gravely replies. She raises her shoulders, and quickly brushes her lips across his. "And you at least still are."
Abruptly she stands, strides to the wardrobe, and with a sharp gesture in the air flings it open.
"Is there anything here that might pass for standard attire in the girls' world?" She calls over her shoulder, shifting the dresses.
"As in not on Halloween? I doubt it." He answers with a slight smile. She shows him a dress. "Plainer than that."
She pulls a black skirt and white blouse from the armoire and derisively throws them on, "Best I can do." She mutters grudgingly with an exasperated glance at the mirror.
"Am I coming with you?" He wonders aloud.
"If you can get ready in the next five minutes." She replies, "I'm going to tell the girls," She starts harshly brushing her hair, "Before I lose my nerve."
"Are you sure?" He asks her as he dresses.
"No," she responds "Absolutely not. But I can't hedge forever. Ileana and Karsh are getting married in one week, and I refuse to have this looming over me then." She stares at him and he sees wavering. "I want to get this over with."
Hesitantly, Miranda locks eyes with him and crosses the room to stand in front of him. Heartache, and something else, show in her eyes as she runs a hand through his hair, drawing him down for a kiss. It is unexpected and disconcerting and feels… amazing. The combination of sheer intensity and gentleness overwhelms him. Until, that is, she pulls back and turns away, looking at the ground.
"Let's go," she mutters.