AN: Guysss I need reviews. I'm dying over here. Pls.

b - l - a - d - e' - s - - e - d - g - e

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Sikeen took a deep breath before opening the door to his quarters that evening. Composure, she reminded herself, throwing her shoulders back. She strode in confidently, put the saucer on his desk, and waited for him to dismiss her. He continued writing. Silently, she glanced downward. As usual, it was in an unfamiliar language. Somehow, it looked like he was writing the same thing over and over. She didn't comment, and continued waiting.

It was a solid three minutes before he glanced up.

"You're still here," he said, blinking. He seemed confused, at least for a moment before he pushed his silver hair from his eyes. The light reflecting off the hourglasses seemed to glint through his it. In moments, it had fallen right back to where it was.

"You haven't dismissed me," she replied as evenly as she could. Fighting off the urge to say something catty was even more difficult than she'd imagined.

"I assumed you would leave anyway." She took a deep breath, desperately holding onto her manners. He was referring to the incident from that morning. It was clear he was only mocking her with the excessive wait.

"I learned my lesson," she said with a stiff smile. His usual smug smile appeared. Instantly, she wanted to wipe it off his face. Composure! He turned his chair toward her, giving her a long, arrogant look before speaking. She couldn't help but feel like a barmaid.

"'Shalafi,'" he added. It was no longer a matter of holding onto her manners, now she was actually trying not to squirm under his unnerving gaze.

"I learned my lesson, Shalafi," she managed, surprised at how easily the words came out. At least she didn't choke.

"Excellent. You're dismissed." She all but ran out of the room.

After the door shut behind her, Raistlin allowed himself a moment to laugh quietly to himself. It was the second time in a day he'd genuinely laughed, he realized. It was just too comical – she was such a character. Stabbing Dalamar, forcing herself to follow his rules, sacrificing her pride for a potential shot at escape… What a pity it was, he thought, that there was no escape in her future. She was trying so hard.

On her way down, she caught a glimpse of Dalamar just inside his suite. He'd left the door wide open. Her heart swelled a bit when she saw him struggling to tighten a bandage around his arm with his teeth. The horror was still in his eyes. Thrilled, she shot him a wicked grin before disappearing into her quarters.

At dawn the next day, she dragged herself out of bed. The kitchen was thankfully devoid of Dalamar, and she munched on a slice of plain white bread while she waited for the tea to brew. When it was done, she carefully made her way up the stairs and knocked on the door. There was no reply. After letting herself in, she peered around the room. He was nowhere to be found.

"Shalafi?" she asked, taking a tentative step forward.

"Leave it on the desk." He was emerging from the magnificent marble bathroom, tugging his shirt down over his chest. It was stark white. Surprised by the color, she almost didn't notice the water dripping from his hair and soaking the cloth. When that caught her eye, she only stared more. Gods, with the light pouring in from the windows… He was like a ghost. And it was stunning. He wiped water from his face and shook his bangs out of his face before noticing her gape. "Sikeen. The desk."

She snapped out of her reverie and stiffly marched to his desk, gingerly placing the tea down before turning back toward him, awaiting her dismissal. Instead of dismissing her, he coughed – the sound was slightly wet, as if his lungs were filling with liquid. Wincing, she shifted her weight to one side and looked away momentarily. He paced to the desk and took a sip, watching her over the edge of the cup. Feeling scrutinized, she held his gaze for as long as she could before breaking eye contact. She was sure he was looking right into her brain.

"Good morning," he said, smirking slightly. As usual, his voice was distinctly clearer after drinking the tea. He noticed how she squirmed when he stared at her, and it entertained him.

"Morning," she mumbled. "Shalafi," she added quickly. His amusement was obvious on his face, and she wondered what she'd done that seemed so funny to him. Resisting the urge to ask, she subconsciously took a step backward. He leaned against the desk, his hip pressed into its edge, as he took another long sip. She was still on her best behavior.

"Seen Dalamar yet?" Her eyes seemed to light up, he noted.

"Yesterday. He was bandaging himself." He nodded pensively, still staring.

"I know what you're doing." She blinked at him and then drew in a slow breath.

"I don't know what you mean, Shalafi."

"I'm not going to let you leave. Didn't I tell you early on that your obedience won't win your freedom?" It was subtle, but he thought he might have seen her twitch slightly.

"Didn't I tell you—" She caught herself, starting again. "I'm not trying to convince you to let me leave; I just learned my lesson. I don't plan to die by your hand," she said, barely getting the words out. It was a flat-out lie, and one she hated having to tell. Why couldn't she just manipulate him into releasing her? She was so used to twisting others into fitting her whim.

He decided to try another angle. There was no way she would maintain this level of composure for a full conversation with him.

"You know, I've realized something. You're not really a killer, not naturally. So I wonder – what happened that could force you to turn to something so gruesome? Do you feel regret? Do you realize what you're being punished for?" She recognized the glint in his eyes as he taunted her.

"I don't think about those things, Shalafi." Her jaw clenched as she resisted the urge to glare. Her mind was quickly going blank. She needed to get out of here.

As if granting her wish, he waved her away as he pulled out the desk chair.

"You're dismissed, then." As fast as she could, she escaped his quarters and sped down to her own, slamming the door behind her before crashing onto the floor, clutching her head. The room was spinning. Regret. Regret. The word repeated itself. After a while, it didn't sound like a word anymore, instead just taking the audible form of the numbness in her head. Regret. Regret. Regret.

Do I regret? The words didn't make sense to her. Images of bodies flashed in her mind – of stillness where a heartbeat was absent on the skin. Cold, empty, heavenward stares. Fatherless children. Grieving parents. The lucky few who would live in fear for the rest of their lives.

One image in particular lingered longer than the others. It was of a blonde human girl, just her age. Sikeen had wondered why this one had to die. But she did, by her hand, and in her last moments she didn't beg for mercy. She didn't say anything at all, actually. She only gave her a curious look, as if asking why she was doing this. As if she'd seen that Sikeen hadn't wanted to.

And when she'd walked away, she'd taken the time to turn back to the body, reflecting that same questioning expression. Was that it? Regret?

She'd fallen back asleep, only to wake up in time for the next delivery. She hurriedly scraped herself off the floor and made her way to the kitchen. This time, Raistlin was in the library, sitting on the floor in one corner. Still in the blazing white shirt, he wasn't difficult to locate. It was strange seeing him there – she was so used to him being at a desk. Leaning against the wall next to a bookshelf, he looked more relaxed than usual. She was about to leave the tea on a table when he spoke, his eyes unwavering from the book in his hands.

"Give it here, Sikeen." Several dry coughs echoed in the room. Feeling some sense of inexplicable urgency, she approached him as quickly as she could and knelt before him, letting him take the cup from her hands. After taking a sip, he gave her a sort of appreciative nod. "Thanks," he mumbled, looking out from behind his fringe for a moment before turning back to his book. Sikeen was dumbfounded.

"Sorry?" Raistlin's grin was barely discernable.

"Thank you." She blinked at him.

"Er, you're welcome."

"Why the confusion?" It should have been obvious. He was messing with her, she realized.

"You never say thanks. It's shockingly modest of you." Immediately, she wished she could take that last bit back – she was trying to be respectful, after all.

"Or perhaps you're just easily confused." She fought back a glare.

"See – you're usually like that. That's what I'm used to."

"Like what?" That was a difficult question to answer without insulting him, and he knew it.

"Like… a shalafi." There. He couldn't possibly consider that offensive.

He was quiet for a moment, pondering this.

"And there's no such thing as a kind shalafi?" She laughed, amused at the prospect of Raistlin's kindness. Sick of kneeling, she leaned back against the wall beside him.

"Not in my life, no. Not for the rest of my life." After zoning out for a moment, she glanced at him. He was giving her a curious look, resisting the temptation to point out how many times he'd shown her that yes, he could be kind. He'd lent her his cloak, he'd given her the sleeping potion, and he'd let her stay in his room for two solid days so she could hide from Dalamar. And he hadn't healed Dalamar when she'd taken her revenge on him – that had to count for something as well. Right?

"I'm really not that awful." She raised a brow at him. The dread washed over him again. Her fringe began to fall loose from the complicated braids on her head. That was the same hair he'd pushed out of her face yesterday morning. "I'm not," he added, in response to her expression.

"Then prove it sometime," she said, standing up. She could take that much liberty, couldn't she? Once again, he fought the urge to argue. Arguing his own merits seemed a bit pathetic. "May I go?" He looked up at her from the floor, tossing his hair out of his face.

"No." She glared at the wall, tensing up. Was this really necessary? He'd already made her miserable in the morning.

"What was it, then, that you needed?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Dunno. Read something, if you like."

"Excuse me?" She wasn't going to sit here and read something. Not with him. And all these books were dreadful. He looked up, his expression unreadable.

"Sorry; did you have something pressing to get to?" Touché, she thought, focusing her glare at him before snatching something random off the shelf. Sighing, she sat back down, next to him.

"Happy?" she asked, flipping it open to someplace in the middle.

"Ecstatic," he replied pleasantly, turning a page. She spent a moment or two hunting for the sarcasm she was sure lay beneath the word, but there didn't seem to be any there. Confused, she redirected her attention to the riveting details of advanced tactile manipulation spells. She never made it to the next page. Within minutes, she was once again fast asleep.

Raistlin didn't notice right away, deeply engrossed in his own reading. It wasn't until the book fell from her hands that he realized just how bored she was. And probably tired, too – she seemed to be groggy until around sundown most days. Her head tipped in his direction and landed squarely on his shoulder, immediately beginning to slide down until she was resting comfortably on his leg. His breath caught. Was this deliberate? Or was she really sleeping?

"Sikeen?" he asked, frozen. She mumbled something and pulled her legs closer to her body. "Sikeen, wake up." This time, she didn't even reply. Defeated, he rested his head against the wall behind him, letting his own book fall to his side. Making her stay was a horrible idea. Now he couldn't move without disturbing her.

Was that really an issue? He wasn't sure. It definitely shouldn't have been. What did he care if she woke up?

Either way, did he even have plans to move? He hadn't even thought of it until she'd passed out on him. Sighing, he picked up his book again. For now, he'd read. When he was done, he could figure out what to do with her.

She ended up waking before he even wanted to move. It was just an hour later when she shifted slightly before opening her eyes, confused. Where… She looked around, realizing she was on the floor. And there was a leg beneath her. And something warm on top of her – that was why she'd woken up, she realized. It was too hot.

The robe. And there was something under the robe, resting on her side.

"You're awake," muttered Raistlin, once again speaking while continuing to read. Gods, it was his arm. That was his hand on her hip. Her blood boiled, and not just because of the temperature.

"Shalafi. Is there a reason why I'm wrapped up in your robe?"

"You fell asleep," was his only reply. She pursed her lips, unmoving, but he could feel her tense up.

"Obviously!" she cried, sitting up abruptly. She was just inches from his face, her eyes wide with confusion.

"Save me the ire, elf. You were freezing. The whole tower, if you hadn't noticed, is freezing."

"You're—" She stopped, not sure what, exactly, to say.

"My what? Or did you mean to state something more about my inherently evil nature?" Though he sounded casual, he was surprised, once again, at how hard it was for her to accept that he could be good to her. For whatever reason, she was hell-bent on believing he was nothing but reprehensible. For God's sake, he'd just covered her with his cloak for the second time. Did he really deserve this from her?

Slowly, she began to understand what he was implying. He was referring to what she'd said earlier about how he could never be kind. Of course.

"Did you forget the part where you tried to kill me after finding Dalamar in the kitchen?" she spat.

"Please. The only way to drive a point through that thick skull is to use violence, apparently. Do you really think I'd have killed you without magic?" The smirk on his face was more than just taunting – it was clear that he was actually angry, at least a little bit.

"You were trying to scare me. Kindness doesn't come packaged with cruelty, Shalafi!" she retorted.

"I was putting up a wall." She frowned, not sure what to make of that. He mirrored her confusion, realizing he probably shouldn't have put it like that. Why had he said that?

"What?"

"Never mind. You're dismissed," he said, drawing his cloak closer to him and turning back to his book.

"No. Why were you 'putting up a wall'?" The only way to get answers out of him was to insist. At first, he didn't reply. "Shalafi!" Annoyed, she snatched the book out of his hand. All attempts to be respectful had long since been abandoned, apparently. He glared at her, hating her persistence.

"You're barely twenty, and you act younger. You're in my care, and you're less stable than a house of cards." When he didn't continue, she realized that was supposed to answer her question.

"Go on," she said, snapping the book shut. He winced, seeing that she'd lost his page.

"Give me the book."

"Go on!" she repeated, delighting in his discomfort. She made a mental note to take his books more often. He raised a brow at her.

"You really need me to spell that out for you?"

It was a long, loaded moment before she figured out what he was trying to say. He wanted a wall between them because he was afraid of… No. That was absurd. There was no way he was actually concerned about getting so close to her that—

And he'd almost strangled her because—

Oh.

"That really shouldn't be a concern of yours," she said nonchalantly, dropping the book back in his lap. "I'd never be interested in you." She flashed him a frigid grin before briskly getting to her feet, making her way to the door. He spoke as she was walking away, and what he said made her heart drop.

"That isn't what I was worried about." He said it the same way he told her to leave the tea on his desk. Unable to resist, she spoke over her shoulder.

"So what was it that you were worried about?"

"You're dismissed, Sikeen." It was clear to her that he wouldn't be speaking about it anymore. Annoyed, she slammed the door behind her.