[Past] The Night

Malachai couldn’t help but chuckle softly at her words, his amusement rolling through him like a quiet storm. He leaned in slightly, his smile warm, though laced with a quiet knowing. Patience, you say? Perhaps you underestimate my own reservoir of it. I can be remarkably patient, when the situation calls for it, he hummed, his tone turning almost teasing. I suspect I have enough patience for the both of us, Little Dove. For a while, at least. Perhaps one day you’ll understand, but we shall see.

There was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze as he turned to her, a quiet thought running through his mind. Her presence—innocent, untainted by the usual web of lies and manipulations he was so familiar with—offered him a strange sense of peace. In his world full of deception, she was a reprieve, a moment of stillness that he didn’t quite know how to navigate. The idea felt dangerous, but in a way that he couldn’t help but be drawn to.

When she spoke again, her voice a bit more playful—no, daring—he lowered his gaze, the slight smile curling at the corners of his lips as she spoke of whispered games and what she had heard amongst other ladies. His heart beat a little quicker, and yet there was that quiet admonition in his chest, the echo of a voice telling him not to let his desires overrun his judgment. She is a guest, he reminded himself inwardly, an innocent. She does not know what she tempts, and I will not be the one to lead her astray. Not yet.

Ah, Little Lia, he said gently, his voice dropping slightly, a note of playfulness tempered by something more serious beneath the surface. You tempt me to think of deviant things... but there is a reason these games are whispered, not shouted aloud. While I might enjoy the lack of subtlety in your words, you must understand the meaning behind them, and the consequences they could bring you. You are innocent in such matters, and it would be a great disservice to allow your curiosity to lead you too far, too early. His tone softened, an almost fatherly note to it, though his eyes lingered on her for just a moment longer than usual. I won't degrade you in that way. Not while I can still be the one to teach you, not break you.

When she finally lowered herself into the bed, her feet tucked under the covers, he couldn’t help but notice the way she glanced at him, at the scar on his side. The wound had been a souvenir from a time long past, and though it was mostly healed, the memory of it—and the ones that had followed—had lingered. His gaze turned distant for a moment before he roused himself, sliding into bed beside her.

He had suffered many injuries in his time, some of them more persistent than others. Some would never be noticed, hidden beneath layers of time and experience. The scars of the soul are often the hardest to heal. He paused, considering her for a moment before adding, I suppose I can afford to show you some of those hidden things, if only because you have an instinct for seeing beneath the surface. In good time.

He shifted, manhandling her ever so gently into a more comfortable position so that she could rest her head against his shoulder, the blanket settling around them both. Reaching over to the bedside table, he retrieved the book of Tevinter poetry, flipping it open with ease as he adjusted himself. There, he said, settling back against the pillows, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath. Now, Little Dove, if you must tempt me further, at least allow me the comfort of the book, for I doubt I will manage to lull you into darkness accordingly.

He paused for a moment, a quiet laugh escaping him before he added in a low murmur, You should not tempt the snake to bite you. While I enjoy the... lack of subtlety of your words, you have little understanding of the true meaning of them, and the consequences they could land you in.

As he began to read softly from the book, his hand found hers beneath the blanket, warm and solid, and the simple gesture grounded him in a way he hadn't expected. He was here, with her. And for now, that was enough. When she eventually drifted off into slumber, Malachai spent some time observing how the world's woes fell away, how at peace and unaware she was of the true darkness people could inflict on one another. For a while he merely watched, sleeping unattainable until she was fully comfortable and at rest and when he did, it wasn’t for long. She was still blissfully under its spell when he rose to leave her, returning home only to change and freshen up for their trip to the vast library of Minrathous. What better gift to leave her with than access to the largest and oldest vault of learning?

~ FIN

@Ophelia Jolfy