Vardene slowly became aware of the quiet chatter of female voices as he awakened from his groggy sleep.
He shifted restlessly. No pain. There should have been pain. Mother Night, but there had certainly been pain before the blessed Darkness had finally taken him for a while. He had hoped it had taken him forever… but it appeared that the anger the Warlord had unleashed on him had not taken his life, only punished his body.
He opened his eyes. And found Catlyn's face only centimetres from his, staring at him wide-eyed.
He didn't blink. He dared not blink. What was she thinking? Did she hate him? His heart started hammering in his chest. He had scared her. He had wanted to protect her from the bitch… woman… who had been shouting. But it had been him she had feared. After having her feel safe around him, he had not been able to bear her fear. What was she thinking?
Catlyn mouth turned into a smile, a giggle escaped her lips.
His heart quickened further, his eyes widened.
"Finally! You sleep forever!"
He just kept staring at her. She was smiling. That was good. Wasn't it?
"Catlyn…" Vardene heard the Healer's voice softly reprimanding the girl beside him. His heart slowed from its maddening pace. Rage started to fill him. Still the bitch wanted to flaunt her superiority over him with Catlyn.
No. He needed to stop. He could not afford to have Catlyn scared of him again. He was too close to losing it. His flight and the punishment he had not prevented had proven that. He had wanted to die, had wanted to slide into nothingness… wanted to escape.
But he was still here. And he found he was glad.
"I wanted to wake you up but Charlie wouldn't let me. She said you needed to sleep to heal. But I can't see anything wrong with you. I tried to tell her, but she insisted. Anyway, you're awake now. Do you want to play a game? Charlie says you have to stay in bed and rest, but you could play from there."
Vardene didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do.
"Catlyn, why don't you get the board game Lia gave you?"
"Oh yeah! You'll love that game, Vardene! You'll be good at it! But you have to let me win sometimes, okay?" He watched her scamper animatedly towards the door, before smiling in resignation at her withdrawing form.
"Vardene?"
He growled low in his throat, watching the woman in the room out of the corner of his eyes.
"I-I have been healing you. Valen hurt you pretty bad, and I am sorry for that. I gave you a tonic for the pain so that you could sleep, and I will give you more later. But do not let your pain free state lead you to think you are okay. You are not. You will need rest and more healing." Vardene watched as she drew a slightly shaky breath. "You will have to stay here. No one is going to hurt you, Vardene, you are safe here, so please do not—"
A savage noise escaped his throat. How dare the bitch dictate the path he follow! He went to leap from the bed towards her, but his limbs did not support him and instead he ended up a shaking heap on the floor. Confused, Vardene looked up at the woman he had failed to get to.
She was standing still, wide-eyed and reeking of fear.
"Vardene, no… no-one will harm you here."
His eyes glared daggers at her, all the while hating the reaction she was having towards him. Hated the way her fear grated on his already frayed nerves. Hated the way it fed his inborn urge to protect, which was rising within him in response to her emotions. Hated the way his body reacted to hers.
He knew the hate fuelled conflict within him was evident on his face, so he was stunned when the woman in front of him stepped towards him. Falteringly, to be sure, but towards him she was coming. He guessed he shouldn't have been surprised since Healer's seemed to have an instinctive desire to help, to heal, despite any adversity. They lacked self-preservation.
He watched her warily as she came and crouched before him. He heard someone enter the door behind him. Catlyn. He had to behave. And so he let the woman before him touch him. Let her hands, trembling at first, travel over him. Let her help him to his feet and to the bed he would have to rest in.
And then he let Catlyn win her board game.
***
All through the next week he rested. He was so sick of being confined to his room. But after a few attempts at leaving his prison only to end up collapsing in a heap, he had realised the Healer had been right. He needed to regain his strength.
The Healer… Charlotte… had visited him a lot during his confinement. Always with Catlyn.
Except for once.
Last night he had woken to find her, exhausted, sitting beside his bed as her hands hovered above him, healing him. He had seen that she was tired and hurting. Had seen that she was harming herself to heal him. She had not known he had seen. Had not, through her fatigue, noticed when something within him shifted as he watched her.
She had not noticed when he had finally understood that he was safe around her.
***
Charlie took a deep breath. Stop being silly! She could do this. He had not been so volatile lately. He had even stopped looking at her like he wanted to rip her apart. Yes, she could do this.
She knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open and quietly walking through. Vardene was sitting shirtless, staring out the window overlooking the courtyard. He turned and looked up at her and the expression on his face before he masked it caused her breath to catch. The pain so clearly etched there made her want to reach out to him, to hold him close… but she knew he would not welcome her in that way.
"How are you feeling today?"
"Fine."
"Do you mind if I…? I just need to examine you once more to make sure you are fully healed, and then you can go." She knew it had been the wrong thing to say as soon as she had said it; his hardening expression just confirmed it. "I… I did not mean… I just meant you don't have to stay cooped up in this room any longer… Sheesh! Don't be so touchy!"
Realising what she had said, Charlie quickly went to his side before he had time to react to her words. She needed to be more careful. Pushing an emotionally unstable Warlord Prince was not a wise thing to do. Especially if your Jewels were lighter.
Humming to herself, Charlie lost herself in delving the man before her, using Craft to check the progress of his physical healing. But though occupied by her work, she could not help noticing, not for the first time, the fine form of the body beneath her hands. His body was so perfect. She guessed they had not needed to leave physical scars when emotional ones did not retract from his physical appeal to the women who had used him. Plus, the Ring of Obedience was more pain than they could have inflicted with whip or chains anyway. Her hands became more forceful as they moved against his body. Bitches.
He grabbed her hands. Startled, she looked down at his face, into his questioning eyes.
"Is something wrong, Charlotte?"
Oh, no. Her emotions were besting her. She knew better than that, knew better than to bring these kinds of feelings into a healing room.
"Ah, wrong?"
His eyes became wary and she silently cursed herself for not encouraging his… his what? Show of concern? That was so far removed from his character that she found trouble believing that had been what his actions hinted at.
"You… you seemed angry. Did… did I…?"
"What? No! Of course not. It's just hard for me to see… pain… that I cannot take away…" she finished, screwing up her face in concern.
His eyes, a moment ago worried for her, grew ice cold and distant. A moment. That's all it took and he was the Warlord Prince she had been told of. No longer the man she thought he could be. This was the man who had been tormented with his own mortality by the most powerful of the Blood in Hyall and had come out the victor. This was a man to be feared. A man to run from.
But Charlie held firm. She would not let him see her fear.
"Think to fix me do you, witch?" He snarled as he menacingly rose to his feet. "I'm a broken toy, not acceptable until I am whole? Is that it? Go ahead then, fix me! Kiss me, make it better, touch me like I have a choice!" he spat out, shoving her hard against the wall, running one hand down her body while he held you neck in a vice like grip. "Is there a man here who has not had the use of you?"
She remained quiet and trembling under his imposing form.
"Slut. Innocence doesn't suit you."
Despite her growing fear, Charlie tried again to reach him.
"Vard—"
His grip on her tightened, making her gasp.
"What? Wishing I was still Ringed are you, you little whore? You can have my body, but you'll never have me."
"Vardene, don't do this, please do not do this," she whispered.
His cold gaze bore into hers for eternity before finally losing some of its intensity. "Why? It's what you wanted isn't it?" he whispered, his once hateful tone now unsteady.
"I never want to remind you of evil, Vardene. I never want to cause you pain."
He stepped back so suddenly at that, his jaw clenched.
"Go. Go now."
She stood staring at him numbly.
"Now, little witch!"
With that, she fled.