There was the tiniest whisper of a tremble from Daedra’s lips as the muscles in her throat tensed, the Emorian’s razor-edged blade just barely touching the skin of her neck, a thin prick of blood specked from the tip, running free. Silence had fallen over the hall, over the entire building it seemed, as Eliphas hung over the girl with hatred, rising but restrained, flaring in his dark, earth-colored eyes. They were, after a fashion, quite pleasing to behold, Daedra reflected, the noble gaze of one who knew the difference between right and wrong, and what it often took to stay on the correct side of that moral line. She could see, more clearly than ever, that there was something inside the man, something strange in a way, like the reflection of a face in a shallow pool of water, that desired to be let free. A reflection of something, but of something that was real. Eliphas and his eyes would have been handsome at that moment, so close to her own shining iris’, but they were possibly now the last things she’d ever see.

The prince’s hand was unwavering, the knife pressed against his intended target’s lightly pulsating throat, the wrath and fury he had just moments before had felt, boiling in his mind, but for some unknown reason, he had halted. Absolutely still, the Emorian had not finished his final strike, and instead breathed carefully and slow to keep his emotions in check as he wrestled with his unsettled nature.

Daedra shuddered as she forced her voice to speak.

“…W-well?...” the words came after a long while, her own glowing orbs staring up into Eliphas’, almost imploring him to continue on.

“What are you waiting for…huh?” she managed as a tear ran down one side of her face, and then another from the opposite side, overcome it would seem with some inner tribulation that refused to leave her at peace.

The man didn’t speak, he only stared back with that hateful glare Daedra’s words had given birth too. He was practically prone over her, his left hand grasping her shoulder tightly, both of them on the cool wooden floor and holding up his body as his right clutched his knife and kept it pressed against her vital, thin skin.

“Go ahead,” she came once more, “its what you want isn’t it?” she whispered up to him as if it were a kind of forbidden truth no one besides the pair was permitted to hear.

The human felt his chest and heart begin to slow, the anger subsiding as clearer thoughts arrived to his mind. “No,” he thought inside quietly, “this wasn’t what he wanted, he had been forced to it.”

“Go ahead Eliphas, make me just another name on your armor… You’re the only one I’ve ever thought had the guts to do it. So just get it over with, already.”

He heard the words clearly, and as the prince of Emoria allowed them to pierce his subconscious, he arrived at an unforeseen dilemma, but they only worked to solidify his conclusion in the end and finalize what he now knew to be true.

The knife came away, slowly, and Eliphas closed his eyes sighing and raising his back slightly. Daedra blinked suddenly, and her breath caught in her lungs, confused and in utter disbelief, nearly stammering in response to him carefully backing away.

The man spoke as his eyes came open again, looking upon the horned woman with reserved sympathy, but guarding himself against whatever came next, no matter what it might be.

“The names,” he began quietly, not looking away, “that’s not who they are,” the Emorian finished with a straight comment, pausing a few moments before continuing.

“I don’t know why you are the way you are, Daedra, I don’t know what happened or where everything went wrong, but I’m not going to give you what you want, only because you desire it.”

He stood now, replacing his knife into his boot sheath as he got up and looked down at Daedra, still uncertain of how she would react.

“You want me to kill you, and release you from whatever has a hold of your conscience, well I won’t, you’re going to live with it. Whatever it is. I’m not going to give you the easy way out just because you think I’m worthy of doing so, or because you command me.”

Daedra was speechless as silence protracted between the two. Her eyes were wide and searching for some kind of spite or anger in Eliphas’ words or tone, but she could find none, and she wasn’t certain if that put her more, or less at ease.

“Get up.” He said simply down at her, as if a drillmaster were instructing one of the fresh inductees on the parade grounds of the great barracks he had been trained as a youth.

Daedra hesitated, still inebriated, still coming down from her recent brush with death and the slurry of emotions half-understood wafting around inside her head. This brief moment of weakness seemed to anger Eliphas once more, flipping his barely measured composure like a spinning coin in the air.

Eliphas looked down at her, sprawled and confused, looking almost defeated, several of her evening’s acts were completely unbecoming, whether due to the alcohol or to the situation, he, at last, didn’t care. He wasn’t going to watch someone like her wallow in their own self-doubt or weakness, it just wasn’t a part of who he was, it had been bred out of him by his harsh way of life and the culture of his people to tolerate such an immature response to being faced with one’s own deepest inadequacies.

“I said,” he growled as he reached down and seized her by the sparse bit of black clothing around her collar bone, his fist tightening around the material as her hands on reflex came to his gauntlet to try and resist the tugging of his arm.

“Get. Up.”

He forcefully hauled Daedra to her feet and she came to stand propped up by his armored forearm, unsteady, though growing more dignified at the act of standing, but still in slight unrest and feeling sick at the quick motion.

“I will forgive your outburst this once, but should you try something foolish like that again, EVER.”

The heavy warlord trailed off, glaring down at her, forcing his jaw hard set,

“I will not stop at just opening your disgusting throat.”

Eliphas released his hold on the girl, shoving his arm against her shoulder and emphasizing his threat as well as his point in one gesture of contempt, not letting her eyes wander as he kept them fixed within his stare. He was already a whole head taller than her, and in his bulky suit of spiked armor, nearly thrice her stature. He was imposing, powerful even, he exuded silent confidence and palpable intimidation with his mere presence alone. Daedra thought about shrinking him out of spite in that instant, to bring him down to size, to show him he wasn’t all that he appeared in truth, and was as fragile and worthless as any other human she’d met. The horned girl lost that thought though as something else came to her mind, she had been vulnerable just now, and that was something she not often found herself feeling openly. Everything was coming together all at once, and she was beginning to feel dizzy.

The woman, at last, closed her eyes and dipped her head, submitting to his scolding, forgetting everything about herself in the pursuit of erasing her past with heavy drinks of beer and spiced wine.

Eliphas didn’t expect her to apologize, or even take responsibility for her actions, but he did see that she was regretful of her choices, and as such, he took a momentary thought of pity for the horned inhuman creature. Though she was undoubtedly cruel, snide, manipulative, and a faithless heathen to boot, he could not force himself to hold it against her as much as he’d like. He was a kind soul at heart, as much as the rest of the world had tried over the years to beat it out of him. Eliphas had seen the worst of all horrors, but he had also been blessed in his travels to witness things of beauty and compassion.

Several seconds passed before the prince shook his head and sighed audibly again, speaking down to Daedra with her head dipped lowly, appearing as though ashamed.

“Look, let’s get you to-“

He was about to offer her aid to somewhere she could lie down, his good nature deciding to embrace Daedra’s hurtful outburst and mistreatment with understanding and nobility, but that all changed, as it seemed to normally, in the blink of an eye.

To Eliphas’ alarm, and complete surprise, acidic bile torrented from Daedra’s mouth as she convulsed and vomited down in his direction, the evening’s drinks returning to the outside world in a flash of unsightly liquid that rushed to the floor. The human reeled and felt the stream splash his boots, getting in between his armored plates and touching his undergarments and skin in a very uncomfortable wash. The girl fell to her knees in the same moment and held herself up with one hand on Eliphas’ thigh guard, coughing and choking as she shuddered in discomfort, saliva and more unsightly fluids remaining stuck to her lips in sticky strands.

Eliphas scowled and recoiled trying not to gag, keeping in range of Daedra’s hand out of impulse and keeping her from collapsing into her puddle of awful with his leg. His hands came up and his shock turned to disgust as he watched Daedra crane her neck up to look at him, her visage in complete misery as she spoke, eyes pleading with their glowing softness as he glared down at her with clenched teeth.

“S-sorry…”

+            +            +            +

Something was itchy, scratching along skin that was healthy and tight. Slumbering, feminine skin. There was warm light coming from outside and through small lines or holes in a ceiling that Daedra had not yet opened her eyes to see. Her hand came up and brushed whatever scraped against her cheek with a frustrated groan, but the act didn’t move the slightly pointed piece of straw, of the pile she now lay upon, away.

The shining yellow suns of her eyes revealed themselves slowly as their protective covers parted, the sunlight hurting them a bit as they did so.

Daedra sat up sluggishly, and in an instant, regretted doing so as quickly as she did, pain throbbing around her forehead, forcing her eyes closed once more and her palm pressing against her temple and forehead. The horned girl groaned in agony, the sunlight compounding the headache she was already feeling all too well.

Daedra was lying in the barn of the tavern, as she had originally planned to seek out by the end of the night, but she had no memory of getting there nor had she-

Her body froze, and her muscles refused to suddenly respond as she felt something else on her body. All the control of her form fled her command as her heart skipped a beat in her ribcage, as if trying at once to break itself free in eager anticipation.

Draped across her albeit crudely clothed, but elegant body, was at first what Daedra assumed was a blanket, something to keep her warm, probably provided by the kindhearted Maribel, but upon further inspection she realized was much more than that. The fabric was heavy, and colored the deep crimson of lightly dried blood, and it was shaped in such a way that it was intended to be worn around the neck at the shoulders, fastened to clasps near the collar.

The blanket was, in fact, Eliphas’ flowing cape and seemingly his symbol of rank.  The woman held the soft cloak in her hands and slowly rubbed her fingers together, the lush red material pleasing to her senses. It was of very fine quality, of which the likes she hadn’t seen in days since…Since she’d lived elsewhere.

Hesitation stopped her suddenly, and on complete impulse, Daedra cast her glowing stare around, looking to see if there was any other soul around to witness her next act of inappropriate measure directed to her captive.

Finding no one, the woman’s shining eyes returned to the cape, as she closed them slowly, and cautiously brought the red garment to her face and nose, inhaling softly as its plush fibers tickled her skin, drinking deep the scent it held tightly within.

Several moments passed as all feelings of her oppressive hangover, momentarily forgotten, subsided completely with the act, a deep sigh coming out of her gently parted lips almost in a moan when her sight returned reluctantly.

The cape, predictably, smelled just like Eliphas, but much more intense, as if she were right up against his body and her enhanced sense of smell didn’t have to contend with other sources due to him being normally so distant and far away.

It was absolutely intoxicating, so much so, that she felt herself shiver for a reason she couldn't understand.

+            +            +            +

Eliphas was easy to find, and only a few minutes after sneaking a whiff of his clothes, Daedra happened upon him out back near the store, sitting on a simple wooden stool with a large bucket of water near his feet. He was out of his armor, only the second time now Daedra had ever glimpsed him this way, and even then it had only been partially. His skin was close to the same shade as her own, strung tight and bound over musculature that was easy to find impressive. But where the surface of Daedra’s body was nearly entirely unblemished by injury or past events of open wounds, Eliphas’ in contrast was marred by scars and places where his body had been split apart and stitched back together.

In his hand was his knife, though at present the girl found she wasn’t nervous of that fact, he was using it to groom himself, a process she was somewhat currently captivated by as she approached and he spoke, breaking the silence.

“Good morning.” He said flatly, as if it were a statement, and not an actual greeting or form of pleasantry.

Daedra held his cape bumbled in her arms, and walked it over to a table near the storage building where the rest of his disassembled armor plating had been arranged.

“Thanks for the blanket,” she said as she walked her way back to stand near to his side, slightly behind his seated form, to get the best look at what he was doing.

The Emorian had spread the grease he’d obtained from the older merchant from the day before upon his scalp and had used it to shave with, his face was already free of the stubble that had been recently accruing there, as he next took up his knife to the hair on his head.

“You’re welcome.” He replied, seeming to purposefully leave no room for Daedra to continue to conversation.

She watched in silence for a time as the razor-sharp knife slid across the right side of his head, making a slight scratching noise as the path it left was devoid of all but his smoothed, bare skin.

His original styling, she could tell since meeting him, was a single strip of hair that was about as wide as balled her fist, slightly angled inwards near the place where his forehead began and met the hairline. It had been allowed to grow for a decent amount of time, as the long ponytail he wore ended near the center of his back, bound and interwoven in a simple, thick braid.

“Hmm,” the woman mused aloud, not specifically trying to elicit a response from her captive, but internally hoping it would,

“I like it. It suits you.” She said referring to his simple hairstyle and trying to sound as neutral as he had been.

Eliphas glanced at her for an instant before placing the knife into the pool of clouded water and washing the grease and pricks of stubble clean.

“Why were you so upset last night? It looked for a while as though you intended to drink yourself to death.” The man said, the question as sharp as his weapon. Daedra occasionally appreciated his curt demeanor, even though it clashed with her easy-going nature, though it was times like this when he completely engaged in formality that she could not help but find it irritating. 

She rolled her eyes despite him not looking and crossed her arms.

“It’s not something you should worry about. You should be more worried about how we’re going to starve for the next few days. You’re apparently useless to me, and everyone else, and without payment, I’m considering eating you in the meantime.”

A small, thin smile came to Eliphas’ face at her either casual threat, or playful attempt at humor, a reaction Daedra herself couldn’t keep from her lips.

“And how exactly can someone like yourself find it difficult to obtain food at a consistent rate? Can your magic not give you a distinct edge at most mundane tasks?”

The horned girl paced over to his front and plopped to the ground into a seated position, stretching her arms and yawning as she slid to lay on her back, upper limbs spread wide and knees together.

“Yes I can do things with magic, but I don’t want to draw any unwanted attention.”

The warlord grunted and shaved another line on the opposite side of his face, talking as the knife went.

“So you’re a criminal in this realm too then, eh?” He said looking to her and smirking.

Daedra’s eyes were closed as she basked in the mid-morning sun, the curves of her body nestled in the light green grass as it moved just barely in the breeze.

Eyesight cast in darkness, the girl dwelt on that statement for a bit before replying. Was that even true? There were things she’d done to break the laws of men, beast, and worse, surely, but was it really her fault? Was any of what was happening to her of her own doing? The last few years were a mess, that was evident enough, but a terrible course of events she didn’t fully take responsibility for.

“Something like that…”

Her lids parted and revealed her eyes staring over towards her human captive.

She changed the subject then, before things could get too close to what passed for her current inner peace.

“So, if the names on your armor aren’t weaklings you’ve killed, what are they?” She uttered without a tone that suggested she was joking.

With one final pass, Eliphas completed shaving the necessary parts of his scalp, rinsing the blade once more and feeling around for places or patches he might have missed. He spoke next with more than a disinterested tone, his mood lifted it seemed, as if suddenly prideful.

“They are the names of those who have worn the plate before me,” Eliphas said looking over to Daedra, a genuine smile brought out now, “My father’s name is there, as is my grandfather’s, as well as many others.”

The girl blinked and raised an eyebrow, intrigued again by this new crumb of information, another small glimpse into who Eliphas really was before his capture.

“There are the names of battles here and there as well, places of great struggle or glory. The armor is nearly five-hundred years old, kept in fine condition by the constant attention of some of our nation’s most talented artisans and smiths.”

He looked over now to the suit of discarded metal plates, placed in relative good order, though squeezed to fit onto the only table he could find and move outside before attending to his grooming.

“It gives me great honor to wear it, and one day, perhaps if I’m worthy, it will bear my name as well.”

Eliphas slid his knife into the sheath still near to his boot, patting his head with his removed tunic and drying his skull. Daedra looked up at him as he cracked his neck from side to side and exhaled deeply, asking as he sat, enamored by this small cultural tale he was weaving for her.

“What do you have to do to get your name on it?” she said in interest, as he stood now, taking a step to walk away. He grinned down to her as he muttered something dark, something that despite herself, sent her spine into a slight shiver.

His voice came out in a near whisper, his usual formal, measured tone laced with unsettling, restrained admiration, as if he were all at once excited and trying to contain it, but also needed to share its secrets.

“You have to die in it,” he said down to her with a grin.