It wasn't a lie. Not totally. That's what made him so uneasy. He had never cared what the women he got involved with really thought of him, in fact, it was better they thought he was shallow and single-minded in his pursuits. Because he usually was. Was it different now because he had changed or because of her?
Teldryn stopped sharpening his dagger and glanced toward the subject of his thoughts as she struggled with her exercises. To build strength, he'd directed her to perform basic motions in repetition. Currently, she was drawing a two-handed waster up and down in vertical arcs.
"How long do I have to do this again?" Vanya asked, her voice strained.
"Until you can't." He watched a couple more repetitions then returned his attention to his dagger.
He cared what she thought of him, he wanted to know her opinions, he wanted to know her. When he'd told her he sought her friendship he'd been truthful. Thankfully, that goal had not been threatened by him sputtering like an adolescent. He'd been up half the night cringing at his own stupidity.
She stopped, the tip of the sword kicking up dust as her arms sagged. "I can't."
"So dramatic." He smirked as pushed away from the stone wall of the Bulwark, sheathing his dagger as he approached her. She narrowed her eyes at him but he cut her off before she could retort. "Now lift the sword and point it straight out." She obeyed, her expression changing to one of determination. "Make short cuts in alternating directions," he said as he demonstrated in the air.
She grimaced, whining, "This is even harder."
He smiled as he circled around her, observing her form. "Straighten your shoulders, and lean to the side slightly with each cut. Remember to use your body."
She nodded and did as he said, exhaling a long breath through pursed lips. He headed back toward the wall, scratching his head to distract himself from the way her chest heaved as she panted slightly from the exertion.
He wanted her. He wanted her more than any woman he'd ever met, which meant he was hesitant to try because inevitably they always wanted more from him than he was willing to give and he'd push them away. He could not do that to her and neither did he want her to feel that he expected anything. He just wanted to be around her. He found that he looked forward to seeing her every day and it troubled him. Made him feel heavy. Complicated.
Her arms and shoulders burned as she concentrated on the exercise. The back of her throat felt dry from breathing so hard and she grew frustrated at how quickly she tired. Why am I doing this again? Why was she here sweating like a pig instead of laying on the beach with her nose in an alchemy book? Teldryn approached again and gently caught one of her wrists mid-stroke.
"Focus on keeping the sword straight," he said as he turned it slightly in her hands. "Always lead with the edge." He grinned slightly as his hand went back to her wrist and he looked at it in appraisal. "And perhaps it will build muscle on these tiny little bones of yours." He looked far too pleased with his lame joke so she let the sword sag to the side in the hopes of it landing against his head but he caught it deftly, pushing it back up as he raised an eyebrow. "Not wise."
"I can't help it," she said pitifully, her words laced with sarcasm. "I'm just so weak."
"Agreed," he said lightly, stepping back from the sword's reach. "Carry on."
She continued with a huff, the burning in her muscles keeping her from thinking of anything smart to say. "I hope you know I'm fully expecting you to heal me tomorrow," she managed after a few moments.
He hummed disapprovingly. "You want to avoid too much of that or you'll end up stiff as a board."
She tipped her head back, groaning in frustration. "Are you serious?" she glanced sidelong at him, really hoping he was just messing with her.
"Yes," he replied with a laugh. "It's necessary to let your muscles heal on their own to keep limber. Some things can't be rushed."
She dropped her arms, the tip of the sword bouncing against the ground. "I wish I could just use magic instead of learning to fight. I'm never going to be strong enough."
"It would be good for you to try magic," he nodded. "Regardless you should still know how to wield a blade. Many times the two work in tandem. And you will be strong enough. What you lack in strength you can make up with speed and wit."
His words did little to encourage her since the end goal was still to stab someone. She hadn't been referencing only physical strength. If she could just learn something defensive she'd feel much better. Perhaps if she could learn that first...
"Can you teach me to use magic?" she asked, taking a step toward him.
He shrugged. "I can try."
She tilted her head, looking up at him from the corners of her eyes with a hopeful smile. "Right now?"
His eyes roamed her face, red irises darkening for a fleeting moment in a way that spurred a flutter in her chest. He smiled as his expression changed to one of amusement.
"Nice try, but no." He raised a finger in her direction as he backed away. "See, there's that wit."
Her face fell and she pursed her lips into a disappointed pout. Then she registered the compliment he'd just paid and felt herself flush. Eager to change the subject she raised her chin haughtily. "Well, seeing as I'm already going to be sore I suppose we'd better continue. What's next?"
He looked positively smug as he tossed her a one-handed waster, barely giving her time to drop the larger sword to catch it.
She glared at him as he charged his ward, saying, "Why don't we see how well you remember what you've learned."
She raised the sword in her right hand and spread her feet into the stance he'd shown her, "I remember."
His smile widened as the ward bloomed between them and she wasted no time in her attack.
"What a peculiar technique," Milore said with a curious expression as Vanya pushed ashes around the fire under the cauldron. "Quite inventive of you, my dear. Wherever did you get a lockpick?"
"Uh...Teldryn gave it to me," she replied sheepishly, remembering how the last conversation about him had gone.
Milore tutted as she seated herself and picked up her mortar, tossing a few barnacles in. "I should have known."
Vanya purse her lips and shook her head as she dipped a spoon into the cauldron to pull out the pieces of scrib jerky that she'd boiled until they were nearly dissolved, placing them in a bowl. "It's like I said, Milore, we're just friends."
"I don't doubt it," the dunmer replied lightly, the barnacles emitting a satisfying crunch as she pulverized them.
Vanya tried not to roll her eyes and decided to let it go, knowing the more she argued about it the more it would solidify Milore's opinion. She picked up her bowl of crushed saltrice stalks and asked, "How much of this should I add?"
"At least a palm full, though it's not a precise amount for such a basic potion. Your biggest concern is to not reduce the scrib too much and it looks like that won't be a problem. In a very short time, I think you'll have yourself a fine stamina potion."
Vanya swelled with excitement as she grabbed a fistful of the saltrice, then dropped it into the steaming broth watching as the pieces swirled around in the simmering currents. She checked the flame, making sure it had not gained strength, then set her eyes on the brew once more. She wanted to see the change where the magical effects combined.
She watched with rapt attention, hardly registering the harsh tapping as Milore emptied the mortar into a larger container. Slowly, the brew began to take on the slightest green tint. "It's turning green! It's turning green!" she cried, unable to stop herself from bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Milore got up to take a look. "So it is, and what a lovely shade. Now, stop..." she put her hands out to catch Vanya's vibrating shoulders. "And fetch the fluted jug and the cheesecloth."
A little while later, Vanya was sitting on her bed looking at a glass bottle filled with, in her humble opinion, the prettiest green liquid she'd ever seen. She almost didn't want to drink it but since she was again incredibly sore from training, her desire for a little bit of relief outweighed her desire to preserve her very first potion.
"Hey!" Niyya said brightly as she entered their room carrying a bundle of clothing.
"Hey," Vanya responded, rolling the bottle between her palms. She watched as Niyya stuffed the soiled clothes into a basket to await washing, wondering to herself when the redguard would finally move into Glover's house. She spent all her time there as it was, it was only a matter of time.
"What's that for?" Niyya asked when she saw the bottle in Vanya's hands.
"Oh," she lifted the bottle and waved it a little. "It's a stamina potion that I made."
"Oooh," Niyya approached, eyes wide. "It looks great, Vanya. I've never had the patience for potion-making."
"Thanks, it's not so different from cooking. Except when things go terribly wrong." Vanya smiled, biting the inside of her cheek a bit as she remembered poor Garyn's face.
Niyya grimaced. "Cooking is far more forgiving."
Vanya stood, wincing a little. "Well, I've learned this just in time. I'm going to need a ton of it to keep up with training." She uncorked the bottle and took a sip, the liquid having a rather nondescript planty flavor. A tremor of relief spread over her muscles, reminding her of the feeling when she popped her back or her knuckles. The effect would not last long but long enough to allow her to stretch without too much discomfort. She replaced the cork and tossed the bottle on the bed as she bent over to touch her toes
"How's that going anyway? Training?" Niyya emphasized the last word in a way that made her meaning very clear.
Vanya straightened back up and pulled her arm over her head, leaning to the side to stretch her back. "That's all it is," she said plainly.
Niyya crossed her arms, thoroughly unconvinced. "I don't understand you. It's obvious you like each other. What's the problem?"
She reversed her position to stretch the other side. "No problem. We like each other because we're friends."
"That's positively precious," Niyya snarked. "You seriously expect me to believe you don't want more than that?"
Vanya huffed as she straightened up. "Niyya, can we drop this, please? Teldryn and I are friends and that's how I want it. End of story."
"Fine. But you're playing with fire," the redguard warned as she left the room.
Vanya rolled her eyes and continued stretching, annoyed that Niyya was completely right. Why does she have to be so nosy anyway? Vanya knew what she was doing was dangerous but she couldn't help it. It wasn't like she sought him out, not to mention all her other friends had recently found themselves wholly preoccupied. Bralsa had been promoted so she was spending more time at the mine, Niyya was always with Glover, and Dreyla was utterly immersed in wedding preparation and house planning. Lately, Teldryn was the only one who had time for her. What else was she to do?
She finished her stretches and shook out her arms, rolling her neck.
As for wanting more than friendship, that was complicated. She found him devastatingly attractive, of course, but she wasn't sure how much she could give in a relationship anymore. Teldryn deserved someone who had a whole heart, someone who could keep up with his life. Someone who is not so used.
She pressed her hands to her forehead, curling her fingers into her hair a little too tightly. She stood there, letting the tingling on her scalp distract her, telling herself the prickling at the back of her eyes was from the discomfort and the stamina potion wearing off. She sniffed and ran her fingers through her hair, raising her chin as she headed out toward the kitchen.
