Private Tales A Light in the Dark

[Elijah]

Elijah debated asking whether she would have preferred for him to have introduced her as his daughter. She had seemed... odd ever since he had given her the ring. Had he accidentally caused some offence? Was there a ritual among her people he had unwittingly trampled in his effort to create their alias? He wasn't entirely sure why he himself hadn't thought to call her his daughter. The idea had simply not even crossed his mind. What that said about these uneasy feelings that had been stirring over the last week he was uncertain and so he decided it was best not to discuss it further at all.

"There's plenty of bars, perhaps the better ones simply haven't been filled yet," Elijah shrugged. That was how it tended to happen back home anyway; workfolk would start at the top of the hill where the best ale was served and work their way down until they were admitted, praying that it was not that far and the ale not that bad.

"Tonight, we simply need to eat and rest. It's been a long trek here," and an even longer month before.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

"Exceptionally so," she agreed. Perhaps a bit more fervently than necessary; travel was definitively turning out to be something she did not enjoy. It might have had something to do with almost constant pursuit where even the most basic of comforts, such as a fire, were often unattainable.

A few bits of torture here and there, some other unpleasantness...well.

There was a sudden and awkward silence that stretched to the point of discomfort. Certainly some of the unease that Elijah felt was mirrored in her own heart; she felt that the pause between words needed to be filled with something, but she couldn't for the life of her think of anything to say.

A million questions to ask, but she didn't dare speak any of them.

"Are we going to stay in this town for a day or two?" She secretly hoped so. Sleep would have been delightful, especially on something softer than the uneven ground of the previous days.

 

[Elijah]

"I don't see why not," Elijah grunted as he stretched his legs out under the table. They'd seated themselves near enough to the fire that the warmth was pleasant to his chilled bones and aches but not enough to become unpleasant in a little while. Almost as soon as he had spoken the woman with the kerchief over her head from earlier appeared with two steaming plates full of pork and bread and apple sauce. It was enough to make his stomach growl after what little he had been able to catch for them along the road.

"Here you are," she smiled as set them down and another girl appeared with their warmed, spiced wine.

"Thank you, my good lady," Elijah inclined his head and the pair retreated back to their chores. Restraining himself so as not to devour it in one go, Eli began to pile his warm crusted bread with the helpings of thick cut meat and apple. "I'll see what I can find out about where we are tomorrow, but it'll be a good start to begin contacting people who can be of help to us in Dornoch when we return."

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

Too much food for her, but the scent was enticing. Abject hunger was not a thing that she herself was familiar with. Food was a luxury and not necessary at all, with exceptions. The magical nature of her flesh and blood meant she could take her sustenance in other ways, and those ways tended towards absorbing the background mana. She smiled at the girls serving, but said nothing in their presence. There was some concern that the sound of not only Erdeniin but of Dornoch in particular might give them both away.

All the same, she picked at the pork - it was delightfully spiced, savory yet simple as befit their surrounds - and dug-in to the apple sauce with slightly more interest. The sweet and the savory of the pair was delightful in its own way.

"I will work on that in the morning, once I've secured some supplies," she said in a low voice. She had no idea where to begin, but it would hardly be the first endeavor that she had begun without any clear way forward. Her own internal insecurity would stay her own, this time. "Just having a dry place to sleep and being able to sit down on something that doesn't move will be wonderful in itself," she added before taking another bite. She ate with the careful precision of someone accustomed to higher circles (and of not eating much beside).

 

[Elijah]

"There is a group I believe live in these parts who might be able to help," Elijah said casually, as though he had not been sitting on this information for the last week or so. He tore off a great chunk and chewed enthusiastically, already preparing the next mighty mouthful. "They go by the name of the Jade Vipers, I met one of them back when I was in training to be a soldier, his name was Juan. One of the few men to rise up in the ranks before me, so he took a special interest. From what I know of where he went, it was around these parts," revealing something else startling - this town had not been a coincidence.

"I don't think it'll be too hard to locate him, no matter what name he goes by now."

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

She ate without anything nearing Elijah's enthusiasm for his meal. Often times food was a treat - entirely unnecessary but welcome all the same. Right now, however, she was a stranger in a strange land, and not entirely comfortable with their surrounds.

The name of the Vipers caught her off guard, and she blinked rapidly. Looking up to Eli, she cocked her head to one side. "I...think I've heard of them before," she said slowly as her mind whirred back through time. An old associate of hers, or more specifically, a child of familial association. Emil Roe, his name had been, and the last time she had seen or spoken to him had been when she had been barely thirty, still a gangly youth caught between womanhood and childhood. The boy would be in his thirties now, of course.

Her parents had spoken briefly of the Vipers, and the Roes had complained bitterly about the upset they caused in the local markets. Lyssia did not pretend to understand why, or to recall why in any case.

"I may know someone locally as well. It has been...twenty or more years, though." Her words were still quiet, but loud enough for Elijah to hear. "Although they are human, and he would be in his middle years now," she added. She, of course, was not in her middle years by any stretch of the imagination. "Do you know of the Roe family by any chance?"

 

[Elijah]

Elijah glanced at her in surprise then schooled his features; he didn't want her to think that he thought her useless in anyway. He had a sneaking suspicion she already harboured those false concerns and believed herself lacking in some way. She had said as much not too long ago which had resulted in him losing his grip on his rare temper. He wished she could see herself from his point of view at times.

"I don't believe I have," he conceded and then added almost sheepishly. "I didn't make it a part of my job to learn noble names I have to admit..." his job had always been to serve the Dynast and her family, the other nobles were not a concern unless he thought them a threat. Perhaps if he had paid more attention then he would be of more help now.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

"A large part of my upbringing was learning the names of prominent families, among a host of other things." She did not add that all of those things had the appearance of being completely useless in a world that had gone from intrigue to outright violence. There was no room for subtlety when your opponent could label you an enemy of the state and did not have to skulk about in the dark to lay you low. Would that she had some martial training in her younger years...

She barked a low laugh at the thought. "No, you made it a part of your job to be stronger and faster than your opponents." She looked up at him with a strange light in her eyes. "Amusing that I, with my...background...am the simple one here. You have a simple job - protect those who need protecting, defeat your enemies - and yet you are as complex as my ilk like to think themselves." She laced her fingers together, forgetting her food, and rest her chin on them. She looked on Elijah with an expression of admiration. Staring into his eyes, she lost herself for a long moment, bordering on too long...and then tore her gaze away and shook her head.

Clearing her throat, she looked down. "The Roe are a minor family in Oban. Mercantile in nature," she said. She fiddled with the ring on her finger again, twisting it about as a nervous tic. "They might be able to provide us contacts throughout the Oban if they are still in business in these parts," she added. There were risks in this as well; she and Elijah were Erdeniini after all, and the Roe family were very much Dalriadan. The tenuous connection of mercantile interests that her family and theirs had shared through the years might prove useful. And, of course, the scion of that noble house was...

No interest in him, her mind provided flatly. Her interest lay elsewhere, she had realized not too long ago, and she had yet to come to terms with that thorny problem.

 

[Elijah]

What did that look mean?

She hadn't ever looked at him that way before and it made him nervous for it was hard to read. Like a bird inspecting a particularly interesting mouse. He tried not to shift under the weight of those unknown emotions and made himself focus instead on his food. Which he almost choked on at her praise. Was that warmth in her voice? Lyssia had always been thankful for what he had done for her of course, but he had never heard her talk about him in such a... positive way. In a way that made him sound as complex and interesting as woven tapestries.

It put him on the back foot unsure of what to do next.

So Elijah did what Elijah always did; focused on the mission. On the facts. He nodded along with her easy explanation and found himself in agreement with her.

"I think that's a good idea. It certainly can't do any harm. Do you have a relationship with this family?" he asked a little too casually.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

"My parents did," she offered cautiously, oblivious to the feigned disinterest in the answer. "Their family works in livestock and livestock products, and we - they - had contracts for the hides," she added. Cheap hides to be turned into tanned hides and leather, and those goods to be further processed into consumer goods. There was a fair bit of armor crafted from those raw materials too.

She was silent for a few seconds, and then she sighed. "There was a boy," she began in a deadpan tone, "the eldest of their family. He was quite taken with me at the time, never mind that he was fifteen years younger than me." She had never understood why, either; his advances had not been grotesque, but his interest was inexplicable. Her parents had known something, of course. What conversations they had held between them in regard to that worthy would never be known to her now.

"I don't know what he wanted of me," she lied, and then stopped for a moment and colored a bit. And then immediately contradicted herself. "My hand in marriage or some nonsense like that. I was but a girl then and am barely more than that now, so I can hardly understand why." And likewise could not understand why the idea of such an arrangement was unsavory in the extreme, back then. Now, it seemed even sharper, but that was easy enough to understand. She looked up at Elijah and felt the cavernous gorge of class and calling that separated them all the more keenly.

 

[Elijah]

Elijah's movements slowed the further on she explained until he found himself reaching for his ale to wash away the sudden bitterness in his mouth. He had never particularly liked the idea of marrying for power, wealth or some other thing the wealthy had decided long ago was an important characteristic. But there was something worse about the thought Lyssia had once been destined for that road too. No doubt if things had gone another way she might have married this man, or any other man more suited to her myriad of need. Someone who understood in a way Elijah never could.

"Well," he set the mug down. "It's a connection and you can use it, regardless of the... situation either of you are in now," perhaps this man still harboured residual feelings for Lyssia and would be more inclined to help her, or maybe he still saw some worth in her. "It would be foolish for you not to reach out. I'm sure he's married by now anyway."

Why had he said that?

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

Flickering memories of unwanted attention flashed through her minds' eye, and she frowned at the thought. Her eyes had gone distant for a moment, but she shook her head, red hair flying as she dispelled the image. Sometimes the road ahead was not smooth, and sometimes you had to do things that were unsavory and unwanted.

"I shall at that," she said with a fair bit more confidence than she actually felt. "My parents would never have had me wed to him in any case. The is Dalriada, after all. Why would they put me into bondage like that? And even if they had, it would never work. I will not be a shadow in the background or a piece of meat to be won." How could it be any other way in such a union? Which side would be the one to yield to the customs of the other?

It could never have been her. Oban had certain ideas about women with magical talent, and Lyssia knew her nature to be of the Fae. Talent barely began to describe things when she was a being of magic.

"Perhaps I should investigate this first thing in the morning?" Her lips twisted in a sour and ironic smile, and she shook her head again. "I suppose I would need your...supervision to go to another man or some such. Assuming I can find him, and that he has not moved on years before."

 

[Elijah]

"That sounds like a good idea," Elijah said as he finished off his ale and pushed both away from him. His mind wandered to Gypsy and the need to sort her rugs out for the night least her wings be discovered. It would bring a whole host of unwanted trouble down on their heads if someone uncovered a Pegasi Rider deep in Dalriada territory. "The investigating, that is," his brain quickly alerted him that what he had said could be taken the wrong way and he glanced down at her with he trademark stoic smile he tried to use to soothe such situations.

"Perhaps invite him here, then to the outside world it probably looks like he came to call on business with me," he had no qualms in leaving her to it once he arrived and nobody would be any the wiser. With a stretch he began to rise. "For now, I must check on Gypsy, then I will probably turn in for the night. It should give you time to bathe in privacy if you wished."

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

She made an unconscious sour face and quickly smoothed it over when she realized what she was doing. The idea of calling upon that one-time young boy made her skin crawl, but it was something she could do to forward her cause. She pushed her unease aside, not entirely sure why she was so unsettled by the distant memory of the Roe scion.

She shifted to raise a hand, to call him back as he rose to go take care of the little winged mare and stopped herself. It was pleasant, just sharing one another's company despite everything that they had suffered through to come to this place. The pegasus required her own attention from the stoic soldier, and beside...

What is wrong with me? It was a redundant question. She rather imagined she knew what was wrong with her, and it was wrong in every conceivable way. Class aside, the Captain was a recent widower and certainly not interested in any kind of dalliance with another. That she did not understand even the faintest bit of her ... attraction to the Captain did not help.

She rose and forced herself to move. "Excuse me?" she said as she approached the proprietor with her hands laced together at her waist. "You wouldn't happen to know of Lord Roe still resides in this town?"

The man looked up from cleaning up his counter, and cast a sidelong look at her. "He would," he said, and then turned to face her.

"If you could pass word along that an old acquaintance of his, one Lyssia, is looking for him to discuss some business? My ... husband and I have some merchandise he may find interesting." Her words faltered at the mention of her 'husband', but she quickly recovered and hastily made the rest of the request.

"Certainly, young lady. Assuming he is interested, when would your husband be willing to accept him?"

She gave him a brittle smile. "In the morning would be fine. We will be here for a little while, after all.'

He nodded and gave her a shallow bow. "Very well miss. I will see if he has any interest."

She smiled, and turned away.

***

Bathing was divine, as she expected.

Her travel-stained clothes hung on the back of one of the two chairs in the room, and the gown she had been provided upon asking for it hang on her slight frame. It was almost embarrassingly thin, but it wasn't as if she had a lot to show even had she any desire to do so.

The small room that Elijah's coin had bought only contained a pair of chairs, a side table beside a lone bed wide enough for two to sleep comfortably, and another table with a basin and a pitcher of cool, clear water. She was still trying to dry her hair, lustrous red that clumped damply together. The suggestion of rose-scented water and an undertone of soap teased the air of the room.

Elijah had not returned from the stable, but she was in no particular hurry there. Hopefully he would have the forethought to visit the bath himself, but that seemed like a far less important thing than all that they were working on.

She looked at the ring he had given her, and her eyes grew distant as she thought on it, and on what it meant. And thus she was lost in her own thoughts when he entered the room...

 

[Elijah]

Elijah knew he was lying to himself in order to eek out some more time before returning to the rooms. Gypsy's mane certainly did not combing with quite this amount of care and it definitely did not need plaiting. The winged pegasus kept a clean stall and he had no real reason to fret. Seeming to sense his thoughts she half turned to glance at his slow methodical plaiting and snorted.

"I'm just giving her enough time to enjoy a bath," he muttered. The last thing he wanted was a good tongue lashing for walking in on her in the bath. Folks would question if he suddenly turned tail and fled at the sight of his own wife naked. Especially one so beautiful. He couldn't afford for there to be any more unusual chatter about them than the usual kind that came from outsiders visiting; they needed to remain low. He was no fool to think now they were in their nations enemies lands that they would be safe.

The memories of being kept in that box rose unbidden in his mind, a trance that was only broken by the sound of the wooden comb in his hand splintering.

With a small curse he plucked some of the wooden teeth from his palm and went to find a bandage before taking a long walk around the town. If they needed to suddenly flee it would pay to know the layout and walking at night was different to walking it during the day. It was therefore a good long while before Alijah finally returned, assured that she must have been done with the bath, before he made his way back to the room where he kicked off his worn boots.

"I spoke to a few of the guards at the city gates," he explained as he took off his sword belt. "Seems a reasonably quiet town, not much to report more than petty crime. I think we'll be safe here for at least a week or so."

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

She blinked, broken from her reverie by Elijah's arrival and spoken words. She had curled her legs under her in her chair, gown drawn close. In such a position, she looked even smaller than she ordinarily did. "So long as you are around," she said quietly and shook her head. "Since my family's dissolution, I've only found that in your company."

Not always and, sometimes, not often. But not untrue. She wasn't entirely sure why she had said that in the first place. Again, she wondered what it was that drew her to the soldier. And again she supplied herself with the answer. My life. He had given that back to her once, and many times since. But it was the first time that she held most dear.

Brushing quickly past the embarrassing admission of any kind of feeling for him, she continued. "I spoke with the keeper, and he says that Lord Roe is still around. I left instructions to have him meet here in the morning." There was an undercurrent of unease there, but she did her best to hide it.

 

[Elijah]

Elijah paused in removing his coat at Lyssia's admission and glanced in her direction. He wanted, in a way, to have a reason to doubt her words but she heard nothing but sincerity. An odd warmth spread through his chest which brought with it the usual concoction of confusion, disgust at himself, and a sense of betraying the memory of a woman who had been dead for over five years. After the initial pause he finished removing his jacket and hung it up on a coat hook.

"Well... that's good to know," he yanked off his shirt and folded it with a soldiers neatness to set upon the small side table. Only then did he lay down on the bed which creaked beneath his weight. Everything ached from days of marching and what had happened before they had fled their home country. This was the first time Elijah felt himself relax.

He didn't bother hiding the yawn.

"You should get some rest, you'll want to be sharp for this meeting tomorrow."

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

Isn't it just?

She couldn't agree with him on the point. Roe was a means to an end, but her memories of him were incomplete. There was only the impression, left years before, of some unwholesomeness that she could scarcely fathom now. It made her twist up inside to think of it, but she carefully hid her discomfort from Elijah.

She also pointedly did not stare at his chest or back, with the cords of muscle his career had given him.

"There is risk," she said from her seat. She had not moved, but she was still not looking at him directly at first. Happily, he was not set up so that she could oggle him with her eyes...like Marissa had. She winced at the thought, happy that he hadn't seen either. "I do not even know on what terms my family was with his. But it is the only contact I have here, and so..."

She uncurled in her set, and dangled her legs over the edge of the chair. Slowly, she hopped from chair to her feet and padded over the bed, looking at the Captain. For a moment, the impropriety of sharing a bed with someone she had not wed stood stark in her mind...but it wasn't like that. They had a job to do for the Dynast.

She could almost believe it. Even if she knew it was a lie that should burn her tongue to ashes.

She opened her mouth to speak, for a moment...a moment that stretched. Finally, she closed her mouth and sat on the edge of the bed in pregnant silence.

 

[Elijah]

Elijah kept his eyes closed as he listened to her almost silent footfalls make their way towards the bed. Perhaps he should have requested two rooms but it would have looked odd given their cover stories, and her posing as his daughter had seemed... wrong. Not to mention unhelpful. An underage girl certainly wouldn't be allowed to send letters to men without raising several eyebrows. No, he had done the right thing. That surety was like a weighted comforting blanket. But then why did he feel so tense?

The bed barely bowed as she sat down finally.

"I can sleep on the floor if it makes you more comfortable," he offered gruffly, never opening his eyes nor moving a muscle. Truthfully he didn't want to sleep on the hard wood; he'd been looking forward to an inn as much as she had. "But you had no problems sleeping in my bed before," when she had healed him and they had both been rescued from that blasted womans lair. Maybe he smelt more than he had then...

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

Her face went nearly the same red as her hair, her face burning with a heat fit to rival the sun. "You remember that," she said in a flat voice. She bit her lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood, and let the moment stretch right up to the point of discomfort. "Of course you would, why wouldn't you." The last were murmured in so low a voice as to be a whisper, barely breathed.

She turned so she could give him a sidelong glance, aware that he could see the fire in her cheeks. She just hoped he didn't mistake it for anger. It wasn't that she didn't occasionally get infuriated with him, but it was embarrassment that fueled her now. "There is no need for you to sleep on the floor like some thug." I am more comfortable with you around than not, she wanted to say. But didn't. The gulf of perceived rank and class seemed wider than ever, the gap guarded by the dead. But the closeness of his presence....that, at least, was welcome.

She rolled onto the bed, her slight frame catching up against his as she did. Her face was still aflame, and she was a little tense...but not out of fear of him. She did not, however, turn round so he could see how discombobulated she was in regards to this. A fine mess, her mind warring between desiring to be near and not showing that she was completely accepting of this.

 

[Elijah]

Elijah fought to keep the smile off his face as he felt her settle finally onto the bed as stiff as a board.

"Goodnight," he commented and shifted on the creaking frame until he was lying on his side with his back to her; perhaps that would make her relax a little. The last time they had been in the bed together he was certain she had been pressed against his chest. The memory was a foggy one in the haze of being healed after a traumatic few days of torture.

It was with a faint smile at the memory - or dream - of that night, that the Captain drifted off to sleep. Soon he was snoring away softly and dead to the world.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

The heat faded from her cheeks slowly, and she allowed herself to fetch up against his well muscled back - a thing she pointedly did not dwell on lest she catch fire again. The proximity was...welcome, though.

"Goodnight," she echoed, but unlike him she did not immediately drift away. He was already dead to the world while the distraction of him being so close kept sleep from claiming her immediately. That, and the meeting that she would have to contend with in the morning. She had not really spoken of how she felt about the arrangement. Perhaps she could have likened it to the way that Marissa had treated him there in that smugglers' hut.

Sleep did eventually take her, but not before she had pressed up hard against Elijah, as though his presence would offer a shield to the strange and uncomfortable dreams that would come in the night.

 

[Elijah]

The next morning came and Elijah made a point of heading to the baths early; if he might have to rub elbows with superiors they would likely prefer a man who smelt flowery. Not like an asses armpit. Their dramatic flight from their homelands had also afforded them little in the way of possessions so on his meander back through the town as shops began to open he picked up a few items of clothing he thought might make him appear less like a soldier. There would be nothing that could be done about the deadly way he looked and the way his eyes took in his surroundings, but the more naïve would explain it away as a remnant of his past. Not many people liked to look beyond the exterior being presented.

By the time he returned breakfast was being offered to patrons and Elijah collected a few plates to take them to their room.

"Lyssa?" he asked softly as he entered the room, prepared to close his eyes if necessary. "I brought breakfast. And this note apparently arrived for you this morning."

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

She woke to an empty bed, the mattress long since gone cold.

Sunlight streamed through the only window of their narrow little room, and as she stretched away the aches of the night, she marked that it was well into the morning. She had slept rather more soundly than she would ever have believed possible. Looking to the empty half of the bed with heavy lidded eyes, blinking the sleep away, she rolled out of bed and set about her morning ablutions.

It was while she was brushing out the knots in her hair - painfully - that she considered the rather thorny problem she found herself with, and it was not the looming meeting with a man she very well felt that she hated. Nor was it to do with the rot in the Dynast that threatened to end everything she thought she held dear.

No, a much thornier problem. Elijah.

What...do I do about him? Something stirred deep in her soul, something fathomless and defiant of being examined too closely. But she forced herself to examine it. It had been weeks. Months, many months of spending a large amount of time with the man that had saved her life more than once. And... was that affection she felt for him, or simple gratitude?

She knew the answer even if she wasn't exactly willing to face it.

Coward. She scowled in the mirror and huffed in annoyance, brushing out the length of her hair savagely enough that it hurt. And she didn't care.

She turned and scowled at him as he came through the door with her name on his lips and food in tow. Scowled, and then her face twisted a bit as she wondered why she was letting her own foolishness turn on him. "Thank you," she said softly, then went back and finished brushing out that fiery hair. She set the brush on the little washstand and splashed some cold water on her face with a curse. Should have warmed it first.

The scent of fresh bread and greasy sausage insinuated itself through the room.

"A note? Who could...," she began, and snatched it from him as he offered it. Opened it, and read it twice. "Well," she said a little uneasily. She looked to Elijah. "Apparently our Lordling wishes to meet at his residence rather than here. At our earliest convenience, he says." She did not feel very comfortable at that.

 

[Elijah]

Elijah froze in the doorway at the look on her face like a deer in the carriage lights. His mind raced with the things he could have done in the short time since waking that might have annoyed her but it came up blank; how could he have annoyed her simply by not being there? That had to be ridiculous. He could almost hear the phantom sigh of a woman he had once loved.

Forcing himself to uproot himself he strode stiffly across the room to place the food down and tried not to scowl when she snatched the letter from him like a noble would some butler. He supposed, to her, he was those things now with the bonus of a good sword arm. Yet even as he thought those things he chided himself for doing her such a disservice; Lyssia did not see him as a servant. She had made that clear more than once. He just wished she would make it clear what she did think.

Was that fair when he himself hid from the truth?

"Well, I suppose that will mean we don't have to worry about a random stranger overhearing," he mused and scratched at his freshly trimmed beard. "Though I would have preferred to have been able to scout the place out a bit first, to know our exits."