Malachai had sealed the demon — and she had fallen asleep in his arms, cradled like a small child might be. It hadn't been a restful sleep, and even once she'd been tucked into bed in a small but familiar room, she was fitful. Turning and crying out, thrashing, in some instances she'd present with an actual seizure or two.
Novella did not wake, though at one point she tried to attack a healer that was brought in — the demon had broken the seal and taken over; quickly sussed out by the change in demeanor, the brash actions, and the fact that the longer the demon was in control, the more spider-like veins appeared across Novella's flesh.
After that, it was a full twenty-four hours, before Novella woke up again. She wasn't alone, much to her annoyance. A small gaggle of healers were talking in the doorway, it sounded like they were arguing over one-another.
She shifted under the blankets, staring at the group, which quieted once they realized she was awake. Her wrists were in soft restraints, which she didn't realize, until she'd gone to sit up. There was an IV in one of her arms, and if she could've, she would have ripped it out without a thought.
Let me go, she whispered, jerking at the restraints. Thrashing of her own free will, now. Let me go! She screamed, a keening kind of cry that one might expect to hear in the forests late at night.
A healer hurried towards her, pausing to select a vial and a syringe. "Just a sedative," he murmured, as he fiddled with the bag of fluid hanging above her.
Once he was sure that her fits were manageable, Malachai had summon Malik, his orders clear. Novella would be returning with him to his estate, her condition requiring further stablisation and investigation. He spared her wife no heed, no acknowledgement, his focus was firmly on the well-being of the one in his arms, even delegating the Eyes and Deme of his absence.
This was a Family Matter.
Mal was glad of the foresight, having to wrangle her demon once more back behind wards. His little spitfire had more fire within her than previously known. Magic. Well hidden, but there, caused by some imbalance his responded to. Curious and irritated, Mal had kept to her bedside, leaving only to hear and answer messages, or to study the rebalancing further.
Ordering the restraints both kept her and others safe in his absence. While Mal had no doubt she would wound him greatly, he would best her in the end with her own blood if she forced his hand. The Chancellor returned though, in time to witness the rukus of healers and orderly’s.
Get. Out. All of you. Hands finding the clasp of his coat and shoving it into the hands of a servant. Bring us some food. No knives either. He’d roll his eyes as the gaggle of silent healers ushered themselves out of the Chancellor’s way, rolling his sleeves up to approach a nearby chair.
So… he’d glance at the closing door, slumping deep into the chair with a heavy sigh. I thought I knew all your secrets, little Novella. He’d tsk a few times before his expression softened, exhaustion evident on his face. But you’ve never been aware of it, have you?
The sedatives worked quickly, and Ella's struggling slowed, until it ceased entirely. She had kept struggling, until she caught sight of her father, though. The sight of him caused her to visibly relax and settle, blinking blearily as he came to sit next to her.
She stared, pupils dilating as the sedative slowly worked its way through her system. Novella inhaled quietly, Let me go? It was a pitiful ask, her voice quiet, not quite a whisper. She raised one hand to tug weakly at the restraints.
A little girl begging for leeway after orders didn't work. Mmm... no? She didn't sound certain; but then she wasn't certain she'd never heard the spirit's voice in her mind before. She was struggling to focus, every-so-often attempting to get her hands free.
No real struggle in her, she eventually let herself fall limp, staring at her father. Why so many? She was looking towards the now-closed door. Last time, there had been fewer healers attending to her. And they didn't restrain or sedate her.
Papa? She spoke slowly, fighting the lull of the sedatives, They were... arguing? Why?
Mal’s eyes twinkled with some amusement as she pitifully tugged at the restraints and begged for them to be loosened. Oh no, Darling. I’m afraid not, he’d chuckle, shaking his head. Not with the murderous little temptress within you unbridled. We need to get a reign on that first.
He watched her carefully, neither looking at the restraints or dwelling on how long they’d remain in place. Because I am not a healer, nor an expert on the matter. And, he scoffed bitterly, because I need to sleep and I can’t do that when my favourite is attempting self annihilation. Mal’s expression grew colder, his disapproval over the matter evident in how he sank deeper into the chair, legs stretching out.
Again he sighed, leaning his head back to observe the ceiling and not her drugged expression. He struggled with seeing her like this. Because your magic has gone undetected for so long. They are arguing over why the demon didn’t consume you entirely. While I am wondering why I too, didn’t detect it. He let the information hang in the air for a moment, giving her time to process, but if she didn’t quite comprehend, Mal simplified it.
You are a mage, and like all mages, enjoy being possessed. The voice, version of yourself that you feel and hear, is not your own mind, but a demon, seeking its own agenda.
As he spoke, her expression was slow to change from confusion, his words were processed slowly. The healer, had perhaps, over-estimated how much sedative he'd need, after they'd sedated her earlier when the demon was out to play.
She was watching him, and though her senses were dulled, she didn't miss how he didn't look at the restraints. Her lower lip trembled, I am a murderous little temptress. She'd misunderstood, in the haze. Had taken his words to mean he was never going to let her up.
Novella's gaze didn't leave him, not that she had a lot of choices in where to look, as he expressed disappointment and disapproval. Her nostrils flared slightly, and she mumbled, Too much. There was too... much in my head. Foreign emotions, strange thoughts, assaulting her anytime she came into contact with others. The healers can make it stop?
Her magic. She didn't want magic. She was punished already for not having it. Getting it now felt like a cruel joke. You can fix it? She was more direct, this time. He always fixed it. He and Malik fixed everything.
He'd fixed her when she was just a girl, overcome by crushing grief when her loved one died on a mission. He'd fixed it so she never had to see her biological father. There was nothing her father couldn't fix. Fix me? As she asked, this time, her voice broke, and she cleared her throat softly.
Mal’s eyes closed with a sigh. She was more impaired than he’d assumed, an error, but one he’d monitor in the coming days. Adding the complication of weaning her off would impede any progress, so a balance needed to be found. Yes, though lucid Novella has better judgement. Mal quipped back, a slight grin flickering into life.
His head tilted, eyes again narrowing on her. Then you should have come to me. I am busy, not dead or unwilling to pause and help you, Novella. A promise he had made years before, and one he was not about to break now. I know. I saw. And it disturbed him how little was left of Novella’s tether of control.
They can help, but I’m afraid a large majority of the work will be yours. With my instruction and guidance, of course. It’s why you are home, and not, at home. Wherever he resided had always been open to her, a trusted companion and deputy he relied on, but respected deeply. A safe, familiar environment was what she needed to begin the road of understanding and controlling both her magic, and the demon within.
Mal hummed, a weariness vibrating along with the sound. Not entirely. It’s more complicated this time now your magic has awakened fully. Before, you were merely sensitive, now, with the veil gone entirely, I’m afraid you’ll have to master it to fix it. It would take time, study and training in a way she was unfamiliar with. Reaching over, Mal took her hand in his, wrapping his other over the top of it and the restraint around her wrist. I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’ll suppress the bastard until you are capable of kicking it’s arse on your own. Promise.
Novella's response to his jest was delayed, but a ghost of a grin crossed her lips. But then he was chastising her, and she sighed, staring up at the ceiling instead. You were busy. It wasn't bad. Until it was, and by that point, she'd been in no state to seek any sort of help if she'd wanted too.
She blew out a breath, S'always my work, she muttered, after a beat. When he reached for her hand, she let her head fall to the side, so she could watch him. ...mmm. It has a name. I think it has a name. She mused, quietly.
There was a knock at the door, as someone placed a tray of food on the table, just inside the door. Whoever it was retreated, before they could be addressed further. It appeared to be a simple sandwich, cut into bite-sized pieces, applesauce, and a glass of water. Her stomach growled, and she closed her eyes.
Is my wife okay? She asked, after a long moment of quiet. Considering her spouses release from prison, and how broken the woman had been. She'd carefully, delicately pieced her back together bit by bit. I think I need to go... home? Kaczor...needed her.
Do not make excuses, Novella, he’d snap back, eyes fixing her with an intense glare. Not bad. Not bad. Do you know what scene I arrived at? Now was not the time to enlighten her if she was uncertain, if her mind had blotted it out in the schism between her and the demon.
He chuckled, bitterly at her retort over shouldering the burden. We are bastards. There is always work. Because unless you were some pure blooded Altus, you were still dirt, still a smudge despite how many accolades one held. Even as Chancellor. Mal sighed, giving her hand a squeeze. Most do. Some, like mine, choose not to share them if they have one. No, his would snip on occasion, muttering enough that Mal had managed to bite his tongue on others, but yes, he had given in sometimes to its influence.
He heard the door, but neither acknowledged it or the tray at first, but on hearing her stomach growl Mal gently relinquished her hand to retrieve it. He kept the glass out of reach, angling the tray before picking up a piece and holding it over her mouth. Physically, she is fine. Emotionally and mentally - well, I’ve always wondered - but on this occasion I’d say terrified about wraps it up.
After ensuring she didn’t choke on that first piece, Mal reached for another. You can’t. Not yet, anyway. It’s not up for discussion if that is your end goal.
Novella was quiet, for a moment, and then she nodded. I was... watching. Malik heard me. Because she'd asked him to let her die, to stop Kaczor. It was peaceful, when I was like that. She murmured, almost sadly. She'd enjoyed the peace that had come.
Yours doesn't tell you its name? She inquired, curiously following her father as he went to retrieve the tray of cut-up foods. Oh... But she's safe? Malik will watch her? He was holding a piece of sandwich for her, and she stared at it for a moment.
Before opening her mouth like a baby bird, and letting him feed her piece-by-piece. Taking care to chew, even if she had to mentally remind herself to chew and swallow. Like everything was a chore.
Malik will watch her? She asked again, after the first bite had been eaten. She waited, for an answer, before she took the next bite of food.
