Dagger was indeed afraid, not only because of the sheer speed of the animal carrying her, but because of what Alexandria would do when they found she'd escaped. She laid her fear down, just for a moment, and tried to concentrate on where exactly the cat was taking her.
It wasn't long before they set down in front of a building. It was like a small castle.
Dagger had never felt so relieved to be let inside a building as when she stepped into this animal's house.
The animal turned into a human, puzzling enough, and led Dagger over to a small bed where she wrapped Dagger in several blankets, for it had been cold in her cell. She left for a moment, before returning with a cup of some thing with steam coming out of the top. She handed it to Dagger. "Drink this," she said, "It'll make you feel better."
Though the liquid tasted good, it did nothing to console her grieving heart. Only Zidane could make me feel better… she thought.
"Now then," the woman said, sitting down next to her, "I'm Malica." Dagger nodded. "It's alright," Malica whispered, pulling Dagger down into her lap. "It's going to be okay." The tears hit Dagger, and they fell quickly.
"No, it won't," she whispered. "Zidane is dead…" Malica sighed. She slipped away from Dagger, and into another room. She stood there in silence for a moment, just out of Dagger's line of vision.
"Dagger!" Malica yelled sharply. "Come here!" Dagger stood up and went into the room that Malica had disappeared into. Zidane, curiously enough, lay on a bed, and next to his lifeless body stood Malica. She was touching his face.
"Do you trust me?" Malica asked without looking up. Dagger was about to answer that they had just met, but finally decided on, "Yes."
Malica stood up and drew a knife from her boot. She laid the blade on Dagger's palm, so that the sharp side was right against her hand. "Close your hand," Malica whispered gently, and Dagger obeyed. In one quick, fluid movement, Malica pulled the knife from Dagger's hand, leaving a slash across her palm. Dagger cried out in surprise and pain, but Malica guided Dagger's bleeding hand over to a small bowl. She let Dagger's blood drop into the bowl for a moment before bringing it back up. She laid her own hand over Dagger's. When she pulled back, the gash (as well as the pain) was gone.
Malica reached down and picked up a rose that lay on the ground of the room. She plucked the petals and mixed it with the blood, before slowly pouring the mixture onto Zidane's lifeless chest. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, holding his face as she did so. Malica looked up at Dagger. "Do that exactly," she said.
Dagger did so. Zidane's forehead was unnervingly cold to the touch, but she kissed him anyways. She owed him that much.
When she pulled back, nothing happened. She looked over at Malica, who pointed back at Zidane.
Dagger could not believe it. Zidane's eyes were open! He took a few shaky breaths, before closing his eyes sharply and screaming. Dagger could only imagine the pain he was in.
She gently touched his face, wanting desperately to stop his pain, but not knowing how. The instant she touched his face, he stopped, panting because of exhaustion. Malica came over and lifted Zidane out of the bed, cradling him safely in her arms before carrying him out to Dagger's bed. She laid him down tenderly, setting Dagger next to him. "Lay next to him," she said, "He needs warmth more then anything." Dagger pulled the blanket over the both of them. She lightly touched his face, knowing he was still in terrible pain. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked. He opened his mouth, but only shuddered. Dagger drew him in close to her, holding him as tightly as she could without hurting him. She felt him squeeze her with as much strength as he had, which wasn't much. She pulled the blankets even closer to them.
Malica returned with a glass of warm milk. She handed it to Dagger, who offered it to Zidane. He held it in his hands for a moment, savoring the warmth of the glass, before drinking it slowly. When he was done, Dagger tenderly laid her lips against his. He gave her a soft whimper.
"It's alright," she whispered, touching his face lightly.
"It's late," Malica whispered, "and you both need rest." She leaned over and blew out the candle lighting the room. She turned and left, probably to go to bed herself.
Zidane clung to Dagger pathetically, as if he was terrified of what lay ahead for him. She pulled the blanket over their heads, and gently wrapped her arms around Zidane, hoping it might help console his horror-struck heart. She kissed his neck and pulled even closer to him. She felt his tail tuck between his legs. He was scared. She wanted desperately to console that fear, but didn't know how.
They lay like that until Zidane fell asleep; clinging to one another like their lives depended on it.
The next morning, Zidane awoke to a gentle voice. "Wake up, Zidane," it whispered. He felt a light caress against his face. His eyes fluttered open. Dagger's soft brown eyes met his and he sighed quietly in relief. It's not Cyra, It's not Cyra… he reminded himself. Dagger took a cloth and gently wiped away the sweat on his brow. She handed him another glass of warm milk, which he was very grateful for. He drank it slowly, savoring it.
Dagger stood up and stretched. Dagger took the empty glass from him and laid him flat against the bed. Zidane offered no resistance. Is that because he's trained to, or is it because he trusts me? Dagger looked down into his eyes. They seemed to say Take me, I'm yours. Do with me as you will. Dagger smiled softly to herself. He trusts me… she decided.
She gently spread him out on the bed, and though she sensed a small amount of humiliation from Zidane, she gazed at his body for a moment. He was dangerously thin from days of starvation, but he was well muscled. The small hole in his chest was gone, she noticed.
She gently rolled him over to look at his back. It looked bruised and painful, many stripes lining his back, to numerous to count. As tenderly as she could, she pressed the softest kiss upon his back. She heard him sigh softly, happily.
Her gaze fell upon his tail. She picked it up and stared at it for a moment. Scratches, long and similar to the scars on his back, lined it in a curious formation. "Did Cyra do this to you?" she asked, caressing his tail for a moment. He nodded. "She knew I didn't like anyone touching my tail…she knew how sensitive it was…" Zidane closed his eyes, probably remembering how Cyra had tortured him. She could only imagine Cyra standing behind him, holding his tail and a knife, dragging the blade across his tail, savoring his screams…
Dagger realized that she was indeed touching his tail and quickly set it down. "I'm sorry," she said. He shook his head. "Most people only touch my tail to tease me…" he whispered, "But I like it when you touch it." She smiled and picked up his tail again, stroking it back and forth. He breathed a great sigh of relief. Dagger was content to sit there stroking.
"Zidane?" came a voice. It was Malica. He lifted his head to see her. In her hand she held a small bowl. She bore a slightly pained look on her face.
"Lie still," she whispered, walking forward. "This is going to hurt a bit, I'm afraid. A lot actually. I've been told it hurts worse than a beating."
"What are you going to do?" Dagger asked, standing up. Malica showed the bowl to her. "I get this into each of his wounds." Dagger looked back down into the maze of stripes, coated in dried blood. She looked back pleadingly at Malica.
"I promise you I wouldn't do it if it weren't absolutely necessary," Malica whispered. "You're going to have to hold him still."
Dagger moved in front of him, gently holding him down.
"Zidane?" Malica whispered, touching his face, "If the pain becomes too intense for you, don't be afraid to let me know," he nodded, a little bit a fear making him quiver.
She started at the top of his back, coating her hands in the salve before rubbing hard. Zidane cried out at first, and Malica stopped. "It's alright," he whispered, "keep going."
Malica applied her claws this time, ripping open his delicate skin. She rubbed the salve in as she went, moving as quickly and as thoroughly as possible. Zidane screamed.
"Please!" he cried, "Please, stop!" Malica stopped instantly. The top of his back was bleeding profusely.
"It's going to be alright," Malica whispered, "It's going to be okay…" Zidane calmed down a bit before lying flat against the bed again. Dagger held his hand for a moment, giving it an encouraging squeeze. Zidane nodded.
Malica continued, stopping to give Zidane a break again. Her hands were covered in his blood, which turned Dagger's stomach. Zidane's breathing was short and labored. He nodded again.
She continued on again, coming to the middle of his back. He gave a gut-wrenching scream, this time. Dagger could hardly bear to hear his cry. Zidane fell limply back against the bed, unconscious. Malica stopped. "I'm afraid he has to be conscious," she said, "That way I can tell if the salve is working."
"Can we give him a few minutes to rest?" Dagger asked, looking down at Zidane. He looked calm and peaceful, now, but Dagger ached at the thought of putting him through that again. Malica nodded.
After a few minutes' rest, Malica gently awoke Zidane. He looked up at her pleadingly for a moment, before trying to relax. Dagger lifted his head and laid it in her lap. She felt him brace himself against her.
Malica started out as gently as possible, more or less massaging his back rather than breaking skin. Zidane whimpered; Dagger had no doubt that it was probably excruciatingly sore from his beating.
Malica began to break his skin, rubbing the salve deep into his wounds. Zidane managed to resist the cry that built in his throat. Nothing but the softest whimper escaped his lips. Dagger gently stroked his hair. He sighed softly.
Malica continued on, until the pain mounted up to be too much for Zidane. He couldn't stand anymore.
"Please!" he screamed, writhing a little, "Please, Malica…." his voice trailed off. Malica stopped. "Hush…" she whispered tenderly. "Let's get it done quickly." She touched his back again. "Please Malica…" he whispered. Malica looked at Dagger and shook her head.
"It must be done," she said. Dagger nodded and gripped Zidane's wrists. She felt him bracing himself, and listened to his labored breathing.
The next section of treatment was very, very painful for Zidane, as well as Dagger. It nearly killed her to listen to his scream, knowing he was in exquisite pain and not being able to stop it.
Malica stood up and washed her hands. She came back over and gave Zidane's back one last gentle rub, before retreating back again. Dagger helped Zidane to sit up. He leaned against her, too weak to do much else. She touched his face. "It's okay," she whispered, "We're done."
Malica came out with a small cup of warm broth. She handed it to Zidane, who drank from it eagerly. After he finished the cup, he handed it to Malica before lying down upon the bed and falling into a deep sleep.
"What did you--?" Dagger asked, staring at Malica. "A simple sedative; otherwise he would have been in too much pain to sleep. It's better for the healing process as well."
"Now," Malica whispered, taking Dagger by the hand and leading her over to her bedroom, "Let's talk about you."
"What do you mean?" Dagger asked. "I mean Alexandria will still come for you. Cyra will lead them, or simply find you and take you herself."
"But Zidane…" Dagger whispered.
"That doesn't matter. If Cyra comes alone, it truly won't matter to her if he's dead or alive. She'll simply kill him after you're dead." Dagger shook her head.
"So why am I here? Why did you revive Zidane if the both of us are already condemned to die?"
Malica gently lifted her head, looking up and out the window at the setting sun. "Because," she said, calmly, "I'm hoping I can find a way for you and Zidane to get back to Alexandria, to spend the rest of your lives together."
Dagger choked back tears. "But what will Cyra do to Zidane when I'm gone?" she asked.
"I can't say for sure. You must remember, he doesn't even know why he is indebted to her.
"A long time ago, Garland promised Cyra his best genome. No one can say why she wanted one; perhaps it was only because Garland had promised her one. The two of them, you must understand, were in love, and Garland simply loved to shower Cyra with gifts.
"Unfortunately, it wasn't long afterwards that Garland made a mistake…and Cyra turned her anger towards the genome that he'd give her. And alas…Zidane was that genome. Poor little thing! His first memory was serving Cyra, under her cruel and sadistic shadow, always afraid of what she might do to him if he made the slightest mistake.
"I remember watching the way she would treat him. Night after night, she would abuse him. She'd ask for a glass of water, and Zidane would bring her one, only to have it thrown in his face. She'd do this for hours with him, and each time, without complaining, he would bring her another.
"There was one night when Cyra went down to where they kept Zidane (a tiny cell, not much bigger than he was), and simply began to beat him. I had never seen such a display of anger and sadism. Poor Zidane! He just barely survived the attack.
"I visited him that night. It was the first time I met him in person, alone, one on one. Evidently I looked too much like Cyra. You should have seen him! He spent three or four minutes struggling, and the rest simply staring in terror at me. He dared not say anything, not even to plead for mercy. It wasn't until I touched his face that he said something.
"'Mistress,' he whispered in the most respectful voice I had ever heard. He hung his head, obviously expecting a blow of some kind. As gently as I could, I lifted his face and looked into his eyes. He met my gaze for a moment before looking away in fear, but I pulled him back, forcing him to meet my eyes.
"For a moment, he was riveted in terror. He couldn't move, and I swore his heart stopped beating for a moment. That is until he realized I wasn't staring at him with the sadism he had come to know. He was (for the first time, I believe) exposed to compassion.
"I left him with a kiss; that was all. As soon as I left, Cyra came in. I stayed close so I could see and hear what was happening. I watched closely as she lifted his tail, and caressed it lightly. He whimpered softly. She laid a blade upon it. Poor Zidane closed his eyes in fear of her.
"I will never forget Zidane's cry. Part of it was the humiliation of being touched and fondled in such a way, but most of it was the pain of that blade being dragged slowly across his delicate tail. It's sensitive…I know that much. Probably more sensitive then your fingertips. Poor Zidane…she drew that blade across his tail many many times, not caring about his pain, nor showing the tenderness owed to Zidane for this torture.
"She only paid attention to him when he began to plead with her. He was in too much pain to do much of anything else, and in my opinion, a small plea for mercy is a lot better than being cursed at.
"'Please, Mistress,' he whimpered, throwing himself at her feet in desperate supplication. 'Please, have mercy!' he pleaded, lying flat against the cold ground. To my horror she kicked him.
"She hauled him up and began to drag him out of his cell, and out of the dungeon. I followed closely behind. She dragged him out to the edge of a steep cliff, holding him by the throat over the edge. She gripped his throat sadistically. 'Why do you insist on speaking?' she asked, enjoying watching Zidane choke against her grip. 'You know I forbade it…' He was just beginning to lose consciousness. I had to do something.
"I got between Cyra and Zidane, allowing him to fall neatly into my grasp. He gasped for air, gripping lightly. 'Fine!' Cyra yelled, 'I'll let him go. But I'll be back for him later.'
"'Do you mean he's free?' I asked, staring at Cyra. 'He's banished from the castle until I come back for him. Leave him on the cliff!' she yelled. I left him there.
"The next morning, he was gone."
Dagger sat still for a moment. It made a lot more sense, but she couldn't help the surge of guilt that rushed over her for not knowing somehow.
"Did he get up?" she asked, "Did he get away?"
"I can only assume," Malica said. "If not, then someone very kind helped him. You have to understand that he had just been beaten to within an inch of his very life; he wasn't about to get up and walk away, let alone stand. But then again, Zidane is full of surprises," Malica said softly.
"You better get to bed," Malica said at length. "It's late." Dagger nodded and went off to bed.