This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading.

We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did.


Cleaning the floor was one of the most disgusting and unpleasant experiences of her life.

Liliana knelt on the ground, now loosely dressed in her own gown again because she had nothing but the shrunken tunic to use as a floor-cloth, and scrubbed the wooden planks forcefully, the offending smell still making her feel sick.

It's just paint, she tried to convince herself as she wrung the cloth in the warm water for the umpteenth time, her hands now showing a deep scarlet, nothing but paint.

But the stains of blood were still visible where the liquid had soaked into the fissured wood, and everytime she closed her eyes, she could see the dead staring at her, accusation and hatred in their glassy eyes.

Finally, she had to admit that there was nothing she could do anymore, and so she stood with a sigh, rearranging her loose gown in the process. After she had redone her dress, she had gone outside, looking for Bishop, so he could fasten the laces of her bodice again, but he had been nowhere to be seen, and so she had been forced to do her work without a properly closed corsage, cursing under her breath every time the stupid piece of cloth slid down her shoulder.

She dragged the tub over the floor and onto the clearing to empty its contents to the ground, and was relieved to see that he had returned in the meantime, now sitting on the small bench close to the entrance and slowly massaging his temples, the dark shadows back under his eyes.

He looked tired, and unhappy.

For a moment, she fought with herself, uncertain whether she shouldn't leave him in peace, but then she approached him nonetheless.

"I... I had to use the shrunken tunic to clean the floor.", she began hesitatingly, anxiously watching his face to gauge his mood. He closed his eyes as she approached, and Liliana swallowed nervously, unsure how to go on.

"Could... could you fasten the laces again?", she asked, haltingly. "I cannot reach them, so..." Her voice trailed off.

First, it looked as if he had simply decided to ignore her, for he kept sitting on the bench, his eyes closed, showing no reaction to her request at all. But then he groaned and finally got to his feet, looking stricken.

"Turn.", he commanded harshly, his lips compressed to a tight line, and she hastened to comply, confused by his strange reaction. She could feel him pull on the various laces as he threaded them through the hoops, and shivered as his fingers occasionally brushed over her skin.

„Thank you.", she replied quietly after he had finished the task. He just watched her with that ominous look in his eyes, the words she had wanted to say to him all afternoon catching in her throat under his dark stare, and so she was already half-way back into the hut as her conscience suddenly spoke up, urging her to go back to him once more.

You cannot just leave things like this. He took you hunting, and he saved you from those thugs. Show some gratitude!

So she stopped right in her tracks and turned around, searching for his eyes, and her voice trembled ever so slightly as she spoke.

"I still wanted to thank you for taking me hunting, and for showing me how to shoot.", she said, in a very quiet voice. "It was… lovely."

He turned abruptly and headed back towards the first line of trees, towards the narrow path that wound down the hill.

"I'll work on the deer,", he replied gruffly, not quite meeting her eyes. "I want to eat sometime today."

She fell in beside him, strangely touched by his modest reaction. It was hard to believe, but could there actually be a shy man underneath the icy exterior, behind all that spite and saturnine looks? Her eyes fell onto his shoulder, and she frowned as she saw the trickles of blood glitter in the dim light of day.

"You're still bleeding.", she said.

Bishop made a strange huffing sound, and his voice sounded highly irritated as he half-turned to glare at her. "I told you it's nothing, so stop nagging about it, will you?"

Maybe it was just the strain and distress, but Liliana couldn't keep herself from smiling as she looked up into his scowling face, her smile even widening as she saw his eyes narrowing dangerously at her good mood. He really was a grump, no doubt about that.

"Don't be daft.", she laughed, the fluttery feeling back in her chest. "I just wiped the floor, so I don't want you to go in and make it bloody all over again."

She frowned as a certain thought reoccurred to her.

"And you don't have to worry, I can dress the wound – that's something my mother wanted me to learn, so I know how to do it."

For the length of a heartbeat, he just stared at her, obviously torn between being amused and being annoyed, and her heart gave another squeeze as she stared up into his unusual eyes, watching the expression on his face. Was his mouth actually twitching?

"Daft?", he asked somewhat disbelieving, his eyes boring into hers.

"Yes, daft.", Liliana stated matter-of-factly, feeling a grin tug at the corners of her mouth as well. He did not reply to that, and she thought that it was just about time to try and stretch her luck a little further, feeling surprisingly mischievous all of a sudden.

"I am not wiping that floor again.", she answered flippantly.

A short chuckle escaped him, and her heart gave another squeeze at the rare sound.

"Watch it, mousie.", he replied warningly, but his eyes were twinkling.

She simply cocked her head, her arms crossed before her chest, waiting, until he finally rolled his eyes and groaned in defeat.

"Fine.", Bishop grumbled as he turned back to the hut. "Do what you have to do. Just try not to make it worse, will you?"

She grinned. Could it actually be so easy to get him into a comparatively good mood? By giving him cheek?

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle.", she answered teasingly as she fell in behind him, the fluttery feeling actually intensifying as he made a strange, coughing sound, the strong muscles in his neck flexing noticeably under the sudden strain.

Back into the hut, Bishop went over to his bedroll and kneeled beside his backpack where he started rummaging in its depths, most likely searching for some kind of bandage. He lifted his hand again, and Liliana caught only a glimpse of what seemed to be a small linen bundle as he already threw it in her direction with another quick flick of his wrist before he finally settled down on his bedroll.

"Do your worst, mousie.", she heard him say as she lunged for the bandage, his voice still slightly amused. With the linen now firmly in hand, she walked up to him, lifting her eyes to examine the wound… and her breath caught in her throat as she saw him sitting there, his chest bare, the tunic now lying in a disordered heap by his side.

Her steps faltered, and she could feel her cheeks grow hot within seconds as she stared at him, at the well-trained muscles of his stomach, the curls of reddish-brown hair that darkened his chest, and swallowed hard, the squeezing feeling in her chest now mingling strongly with embarrassment.

How did he manage to get out if his tunic so quickly? And why did he take off his tunic at all? It just wasn't appropriate…

He raised his eyebrows questioningly at her reaction, and his voice had a clear mocking note as he spoke.

"You wanted to do this, princess. Are you going to get over your maiden virtue, or should I get dressed again?"

"No, I...", she began, but then stopped herself, knowing that she would only start babbling if she continued in any way. Steeling herself, she forced herself to keep her mouth shut and walked up to him to kneel by his side, trying to focus on the wound in his shoulder.

He was right to mock her. Of course he had to get out of his tunic, otherwise she wouldn't be able to dress the wound.

He had just surprised her, that was all.

Luckily, the wound was a clear cut and relatively shallow, so it should heal quickly after it was dressed, but Liliana frowned as she leaned closer to examine the cut. She doubted that those thugs had kept their weapons in any better condition than they had kept their clothes, and so she would have to clean the wound thoroughly to prevent an infection.

Searchingly, her eyes wandered through the hut and finally rested on the bottle of spirits, still standing on the small desk close to the fireplace. Quickly, she hopped to her feet and fetched the bottle, unceremoniously pulling the cork with her teeth and pouring its content over Bishop's shoulder.

He inhaled sharply as the liquid reached the wound in his flesh, and his voice sounded strained as he growled.

"Bloody hell, girl, you could just have said you wanted to torture me."

She grinned as she saw the expression on his face and reached for his ruined tunic to carefully clean his shoulder and bare back from the dried blood, fighting down a laugh that threatened to escape her lips, her heart giving another gentle squeeze as she looked into his eyes.

"Don't be a baby!", she replied, still trying not to laugh. "I had to clean it. Now I can dress it, and it won't get infected."

He grunted noncommittally, and with a small smile, she reached for the bandage and began dressing his wound.

His back and chest were full of thin, white scars, some of them so old that they were only barely visible in the dim light of day, and Liliana felt something close to sorrow stir in her chest, a strange, bittersweet feeling that made her heart ache as her fingers wandered swiftly over his skin to dress the cut, wondering whether it would leave a scar as well.

So many wounds. So much hurt.

How did one deal with this sort of pain? Was it actually such a wonder that he appeared cold and cruel at times, that he tried to keep people at bay? Her eyes fell on the amulet that was hanging on the silver chain around his neck, and was startled as a sharp pang pierced her heart as she looked at his lover's gift.

"You are carrying a lot of bandages in your backpack.", she said, trying to distract herself from that disturbing notion. "You seem to get hurt a lot."

Bishop grunted again. "As I said, I've had worse."

"I can see that.", Liliana replied quietly as she fastened the bandage around his shoulder. There was a large scar just left to his spine, its shape strangely distorted and flaming red, and she couldn't resist to let her fingers wander over his skin, following its extend down his back. She could hear him inhale sharply at her feathery touch, his shoulders actually tensing, and she caught a whiff of his scent as she leaned a little closer to examine the scar more closely.

"Where did you get that one?", she asked in a subdued voice, curious what kind of weapon would leave such a wound, the beat of her heart accelerating ever so slightly as his scent rose more prominently into her nose.

"Dragon's claw.", he replied curtly.

She gasped, and her eyes widened in astonishment as she tried to digest his words.

"You mean... you fought a dragon?", Liliana asked in a hushed voice, torn between staring at him admiringly and not believing him a single word.

Bishop just shrugged at her reply, a gesture as graceful as that of a cat. "More than one, but that one was a nasty critter. Now, are you done?"

She stared at him, her eyes wide, not trusting her ears that she had heard him correctly. How could he just sit there like this, telling her in that casual voice that he had fought dragons, as if they were creatures one actually encountered every day?

Only heroes fought dragons, and came out of these encounters alive!

Her fingers continued to follow the scar, now up towards his neck, and she felt a shiver run down her own spine as she realised for the first time how close it was to his spine, and his heart.

"You could have died.", she murmured, surprised to hear her voice even shaking a little as she spoke, the squeezing feeling in her chest intensifying almost painfully for a moment.

"Nearly did.", he replied curtly. "Any more questions you want answered?"

"No.", she said quietly and bent forward to pick up his tunic again, the fabric rough under her fingers. "I will fix the slash in it tomorrow.", she continued, still in that subdued, shaking voice, and wondered why she suddenly could not meet his eyes. "And I will wash the blood out."

She stared at the bloody, torn tunic for another moment and, after gathering her courage, looked up at him again, into his eyes, her heart still aching with sweet pain. He had fought those thugs who had threatened her life, and now there was a new wound on his body, another one that might leave a scar, and it moved her that he had risked his life on her behalf.

"Thank you for your help.", she said, softly, feeling the sudden urge to let him know how grateful she was. "Those men... I thought they were going to... and they were five. But you… I thought they were too many, but you were… I never saw anything like it. You saved me. So… thank you."

A part of her had actually expected him to turn away from her again, grumbling something under his breath, only to keep her from seeing his joy over her grateful words. But instead, his eyes seemed to glaze over in an instant, and that icy stare was enough to make her stomach churn more than uncomfortably again.

"They were small fish.", Bishop replied, his voice harsh. "Could not let them hurt you. Has to look like an accident, remember"

It felt as if an icy fist had hit her forcefully into her belly. She stared up into his cold eyes, her own widening noticeably at his cruel remark, and felt all blood drain from her face as the gentle squeezing in her heart turned into a painful pang in an instant.

Oh, I will be paid, little mouse, don't worry. I am paid a royal sum to dispose of you.

Hastily, she scrambled to her feet and scurried away from him, her hands and knees now trembling so badly that she rather fell than sat down onto her own blankets, a suffocating wave of despair threatening to drown her senses as she heard him get to his feet and leave the hut, the room getting even darker as he closed the door behind him.

Has to look like an accident, remember?

At the memory of his harsh, sneering voice, she felt tears rise in her eyes, and sniffing, she curled into a tight ball, her arms hugging her legs so tightly that her nails dug into her flesh, the sudden wave of shame and despair that welled through her body eating her alive.

How could she have forgotten?

He was no friend. He was a mercenary, a criminal that had been hired to get her killed, even if she still couldn't believe that someone would pay a single coin to see her dead. Maybe he had lied about that, but that still did not change the fact that he had kept her chained to the wall of this very hut for days now.

He was no better than those thugs who now lay in a trench, somewhere out in the woods, killed by his own hands.

And there she was, kneeling by his side and dressing his wound, talking to him and laughing at his replies as if he actually meant something to her, as if there was a kind of bond between them. At that particular thought, the throbbing pain in her heart seemed only to intensify, and she closed her eyes, her limbs still shaking, and for a moment, she thought that she would simply die of shame, never feeling more embarrassed with herself in her whole life.

Gods, what would her Cedric think of her, sitting here, taking care of his wound?

Anger rose in her chest, black and suffocating. Anger at herself mostly for being such a sheep again, but a good part also directed at him.

How could he take her out hunting and show her how to use his bow if he only wanted to see her dead in the end? Why did he have to grin and stop snarling at her when she gave him cheek, his eyes almost twinkling with suppressed laughter? And why, why had he come back to hold her so tightly and whisper soothingly into her ear if he actually did not give a damn whether she lived or died?

No wonder that she started to confuse things if he couldn't act like the common thug he was supposed to be!

Still sniffing, the anger and despair now battling strongly in her chest, she reached for the blankets at her feet and wrapped them tightly around her as she lay down on the floor, her mind racing, and her guts churned painfully as she buried her face in the rough fabric.

They even smelled like him, considering that most of the blankets were his own.

She remembered how she had lain here, his arms closing around her while her back was pressed tightly against his chest, his delicious warmth slowly spreading through her body, and felt even more ashamed of herself as her tears finally started to flow.

When he eventually returned to the hut, the room was almost dark, only the embers of the fire illuminating the scenery with their red light. It had started to rain again, the drumming of the waterdrops on the roof the only diversion in a once more dull and colourless world, and Liliana felt the corners of her mouth lift in a joyless smile when she heard a peal of thunder in the distance as the door of the hut opened with one of its ominous creaks.

How fitting.

She could feel the wind tousling her hair and heard him curse under his breath as his footsteps echoed loudly through the small cabin, the sound of the falling rain now much more prominent than before. For one moment, the smell of wet leaves and moist earth drifted through the hut, but then he closed the door with a slam, and only the scent of wood and smoke remained.

"Bloody rain!", he grumbled under his breath as he walked over to the chimney, the wet, thudding sound telling her that he had dropped their food by the fire, but she did not turn around, keeping her back to him while she stared at the ankle ring that lay only a short distance away on the ground, reminding her silently of her current fate.

"Get over here, princess.", he said in his usual snarl, "I need a hand."

His voice sounded a bit muffled, as if he was talking against his chest, and she could tell from the soft, rattling sound of metal against leather that he was trying to take off his armour. She could hear him hiss softly as he pulled his leathers off, his shoulder no doubt hurting under the sudden strain, and she could feel a few droplets of water touch her cheek as the armour finally fell onto the ground.

But still, she did not move.

"Are you deaf?", she heard his sneering voice as he bent down to pick up his leathers and lean them once again against the wall, close to the door. There was a bright flash of light, quickly followed by another peal of thunder, and the drumming of the rain rose to a rushing crescendo as the storm drew closer, making its way towards the woods.

She heard him walk over to the chimney and add more logs to the fire, rekindling the flames with some focussed blows into the glowing embers, and her heart gave a painful leap as she heard his footsteps over the merry crackling of the flames, finally making their way towards her.

"Get up, princess.", he snarled as soon as he had reached her side, and she could feel his foot nudging against her back as he spoke, "You wanna eat something today, you gotta roast it first."

His voice held now a very prominent note of annoyance and impatience, and Liliana shivered even under her blankets, staring onto the floor, her eyes wide while waiting in fearful anticipation, but even as her heart began hammering heavily in her chest, she simply kept lying on the ground, unmoving.

He was not the only one here who could not care about the other, after all.

For long moments, Bishop simply stood there, staring down at her. Then a low growl escaped his lips, and his voice sounded highly irritated as he went on.

"Fine." he hissed angrily, and she could feel his glare on her back like a brand. "See what happens."

She heard him stomping back through the room to sit down in front of the fire, and closed her eyes as her heart gave another painful squeeze.

I'm just your prisoner, she thought, her lips pressed to a thin line as she lay there on the ground, misery draped around her like a cloak. What do you care if I eat or not? I will die as easily with a grumbling stomach as without it.

So she kept lying on the ground, listening to the drumming of the rain, the monotony now and then disturbed by thunder and lightning, and the wind howled like a dying animal in the trees and crawled through the fissures in the wood, making her shiver even despite her blankets.

She heard him work over at the chimney, occasionally muttering angrily under his breath, but his voice was too quiet for her to understand his words over the coming storm. After a while, the smell of roasted meat drifted through the hut, and she could feel her stomach grumble longingly at the inviting smell.

Gods, she was hungry.

Slowly, she turned her head, carefully peering over her shoulder, and saw him sitting on the chair in front of the fire, using the iron poker as a makeshift-spit to roast the meat while staring into the fire. She watched the light playing on his sharp features, and felt that bittersweet ache in her heart again as she took in the dark shadows under his eyes and the hard lines around his mouth, his lips pressed to a thin line.

He looked so angry, so bitter.

She watched him take the poker out of the flames and test the meat with his knife, and felt a strange emotion stir in her chest, a nebulous kind of yearning that she had never experienced in her life, and before she even realised it she was already getting to her feet, the blankets still around her shoulders, and slowly made her way towards the fire, her heart feeling strangely heavy, even despite its quick pace.

He looked up as she approached, his eyes narrowing hostilely, and she was strangely reminded of a hedgehog she had once seen in the garden, half-hidden in the grass and curled up into a tight ball and prickly at all sides to keep her and her brother's stick at bay.

"What?", he snarled, his eyes still ablaze with cold fury. "No work, no food. So get lost."

He tilted his head sharply in the direction of her wall and then turned his back to her to start eating, his gaze once more fixed on the fire, that ill-boding expression back on his face.

Slowly, Liliana sat down by his side, pulling the blankets tightly around her shoulders, and watched the lively dance of the flames, relishing the warmth that spread through her body.

What am I doing here, she thought, confused. She had told herself that he was nothing but a mindless thug, that she did not care about his well-being, as much as he did not care about hers. So why was she sitting by his side again, hugging her legs closely against the wind, and trying to offer… something, when it was clear as the morning that he did not even want her company.

At least it is warm, she thought miserably, trying to ignore the sudden ache in her heart. That is something.

For a long while, they simply sat in brooding silence, he finishing his meal and she staring into the flames, lost in her thoughts, trying to ignore the emotional uproar inside her as well as the painful grumbling of her stomach while the rain and the wind kept howling around the hut.

Then Bishop suddenly got to his feet, and something landed beside her with a soft, thudding sound. She looked up, and saw that he had thrown the poker with the rest of the roasted meat in her direction. She turned around, puzzled, but he was now rummaging through his backpack and did not look at her.

For a moment, she hesitated. Then her hunger got the better part of her, and not caring for the consequences, she quickly reached for the poker with slightly trembling hands, lifted it to her mouth and sank her teeth into the flesh. It was only barely spiced, but due to the strong taste of venison, it was still palatable, and she couldn't suppress an enraptured moan escape her lips as the ache in her stomach slowly ebbed away, and a satiated warmth spread through her body, making her limbs prickle comfortably in the process.

Suddenly, there was a swift movement by her side, and Bishop sat down on the chair again, which made her jump in surprise, for she had not heard him move. For the length of a heartbeat, she froze, peering at him haltingly, suddenly afraid that he would get angry with her for taking the food despite his prohibition, but he simply ignored her, taking a deep swig from his waterskin, his eyes once more fixed on the fire.

For the length of a heartbeat, she hesitated, her grip around the poker tensing unconsciously, but as the moments ticked by, and he still ignored her, she hastily resumed eating.

Who would have thought that she would ever enjoy the feeling of holding a piece of roasted meat in her hand, tearing the flesh from the bones with her teeth? But fortunately, her stomach did not care too much about etiquette, and so she simply closed her eyes and relished the warmth that now spread through her body, chewing animatedly, her misery miraculously damped by a filling stomach.

Finally, she had picked all meat from the bones, and with a contented sigh, she put the poker down by her side, licking the dripping from her fingers. Bishop still sat beside her, not sparing her as much as a glance while he kept staring into the fire, the waterskin in his hands.

Liliana watched him nervously from the corner of her eye. Although he still looked a lot like that little hedgehog, prickly and thoroughly unwelcoming, she thought that the dark look on his face had softened somewhat, as if his anger had mostly evaporated, and after a quick prayer to the gods, she gathered her courage to address him in a quiet and, what she hoped, soothing voice.

"Could you hand me the waterskin, please?", she asked calmly, and her heart almost caught in her throat as she saw the muscles in his face actually tense at her softly spoken words.

For one long, frightening moment, she feared that she had misjudged him again, for his eyes narrowed dangerously once more, that ill-boding expression returning almost instantly, but after another long moment of uncomfortable silence, he growled and shoved the skin in her direction, casting her a short, angry glance before he finally returned his attention to the fire.

With trembling hands, her heart still beating madly, Liliana reached for the skin and drank thirstily, casting him nervous glances out of the corner of her eye to gauge his mood. Another peal of thunder echoed through the hut, but more distant now, and the howling of the wind slowly ebbed away, along with the rushing of the rain. Obviously, the storm had finally moved on, and the elements could calm once more.

After sating her thirst, she carefully sealed the skin again and put it down by her side, still casting him nervous glances, but he had already returned his attention to the burning fire, and so she simply kept sitting by his side, watching the flames to the soft, drumming sound of the rain. That delicious warmth still spread through her body, making her limbs grow heavy, but in a good way, and she could feel her eyelids flutter lazily while she stared into the fire, the monotonous sound of the rain and the mesmerizing dance of the flames luring her towards sleep.

She did not know how long they had sat there in front of the fire in almost agreeable silence, but she seemed to have dozed off at a point, because a sharp nudge against her shoulder made her sit bold upright with a small yelp, and she blinked, confused to see Bishop standing above her, an unreadable expression on his face.

"That's it, princess.", he snarled in a coarse voice, but the cold fury had finally vanished from his eyes. "Time to settle in for the night."

Suppressing a yawn, she nodded and got clumsily to her feet, the blankets still draped around her shoulders, her cheek unnaturally warm, but she was finally too tired to feel anything but an intense longing to return to that restful sleep as he once more closed the iron ring around her ankle. No more thinking today.

She lay down on the ground, tightly wrapped up in her blankets against the cold and listening to the quiet sound of his footsteps as he made his way back to the fire, and it was then as she suddenly realised that she was lying under his blanket as well, for he had brought it over to her place last night to keep her warm.

Did that mean that he would sleep here this night as well?

Her heart gave a painful leap at that thought, and her conscience churned uncomfortably as she realised that that leap had not only been induced by fear.

So she lay there on her spot on the ground, suddenly not sleepy anymore, and waited in fearful anticipation for him to go to bed as well. She heard him adding more logs to the chimney, so that the fire could keep them warm for the longest part of the night, and her heart almost caught in her throat as she finally heard him walk over the floor, because for the fracture of a second, it seemed as if he was truly coming towards her… but then he simply lay down on his own bedroll, blanket or not, and the calm, heavy sound of his breathing told her that he was quickly falling asleep.

Liliana lay there in the dark for a long time, watching the light of the fire slowly die away, her mind racing, and sleep did not come easily.