These wounds have not been healed (Sil and Valken)

[Gwyndar]

High in the mount of Maldragua; hidden among shadows the body of a wounded rider running from any and all authority hid in the crevice of his dragons wing. Panting and groaning in agony as his stunt at the witched shop had gave him no reprieve to the pain in his ribs. There were a few broken, that he knew enough to say. But the pain ... he had felt pain like this before. It had been as painful as his rebirth as a dragon rider. The day he died and was reborn with the life force of his dragon he felt pain almost worse than this. Yet at this moment his only thought was the slashing, crunching pain with every movement he made.

His stunt of jumping onto and even off his dragon meant that his broken ribs were beginning to bruise internally. It was excruciating.

<"Grow up halfling, just because you lost that sparring match do not become weak. Weakness is admitting you have a weakness.">Siluth growled, even mentally his voice was coarse and gruff. Almost like he was constantly scorning his rider; which of course could have been the case. The two were not the greatest of friends, on some days the two were the worst of enemies and fought sometimes to the point where the other had to stop with exhaustion. <"Silence beast."> The half elf growled back, giving his dragon an immature poke in its own ribs. this only humored the beast beast and its low dangerous chuckle was heard throughout the caves.

"Silence, we want not a soul to know i am here. Do you wish to be caged like a convict!" He shouted from the crook he was nestled within. Despite their differences Siluth did take care of his rider. There was always a time where one made sure the other was out of harms way. And surprisingly, now was one of those moments.

Lifting his head slowly, the great dragon let out a protective growl and looked toward the distance. He had sensed someone close by that was not of riders magic. <"There is an intruder Gwyndar ... Stay behind me."> The great black shadow growled. Out of the caves mouth, all that one could see would be the dark glowing eyes of a monster. Whoever was approaching was likely to be injured in one manor or another.

[Silisia Anja Saffy]

Tally’s hooves pounded upon the earth as he made his way resolutely up the mountain. The pathway was thin and crumbled at the smallest wrong step. Luckily, the stallion stepped true. The path was long and treacherous, and Sil seemed to be very foolish in taking it. She had followed the rider swiftly from the shop, with his gear. She needed him or she knew eventually the wound would kill her. She growled internally at her own stupidity. She was venturing into Dragon land and neither dragon nor rider particularly welcomed strangers.

She grimaced in pain as Tally leapt over a ditch. She felt the wound tear open. She made her ascent quite quickly, relying on her elfish instincts to track the wounded rider.She stopped the sweaty stallion as she reached what looked to be caves. The trail seemed to lead here. She quickly looked back, unsure as to what she should do. Common sense said leave. A large growl erupted from the depths of the darkness. Tally reared and Sil fell to the floor. Without a backward glance the stallion disappeared. What was the use of a war horse that fled at the smallest sign of danger? This was an entirely stupid idea on her part.

“Gwynder?” she tried to call out but the wind had been knocked from her lungs. She desperately tried to take in a few breaths. She closed her eyes tightly, and was enveloped in a dark world. Finally catching some breath she slowly got to her feet, grimacing. She staggered forward.
“Gwynder?” she tried again, her voice a little stronger. She gazed into the caves depths only to be confronted by two glowing eyes. Fear slipped through her body. This truly was the most stupid thing she had ever done.

“I have your stuff,” she said loud enough for her voice to carry. “Please, I need your help and by me, I mean just me.”
She looked down at her hands and quickly contemplated leaving. However, the journey down was long and her stupid horse had abandoned her. She sighed exasperatedly. Curious, she took a few more steps forward. Perhaps this was Gwynder’s dragon. However, that thought did very little to comfort her. His last words in the shop still rang coldly in her mind.

[Gwyndar]

<"This is the being you expressed concern over in Stryklak Gwyndar. Should I ... enforce her absence or do you wish to deal with this on your own terms."> Knowing his riders pride and guilt of death on his hands, the Dragon knew not to temp the man who could quite clearly spearhis side with little more than one swift movement. And in his current position it made him even more able. <"No. I shall. But be vigilant, I am still harmed."> The conversation he had with his dragon was always silent, meaning that those outside of his head were unable to hear the words. "You say you are alone; yet what gives me force to trust you." Came the voice from the darkness. No movement within the cave came. Instead, only a small hiss of pain as he rose to his feet and; within the shadows looked out of the mouth of his cave.

True to her word the queen seemed to be alone. "You need help from me? or you need help turning me in. I am no fool woman. I bow to no queen, I follow no leader." His voice was sore from the pain in his chest; a pain that the old witch had neglected to heal before he had to flee the scene. That being said; the witch did seem to have his belongings. And he would be in dire pain were it not for the protective metal vest that kept his chest restricted whenever he moved. <2Be my eyes Siluth.">

The queen was not someone he was willing to do work with. She has the opportunity by Aila to be helped if it were an ailment; millions of others to do her bidding. What possible thing would she need of him, a wanted murderer who knew only about his craft and his dragon. "To which help are you declaring lady of monarchy." He demanded, shifting himself from the wing of his dragon long enough for him to feel the tense air around Siluth. Without being under the wing he was vulnerable once more. "Declare it before i decide to aid you."

[valken]

Valken was on his journey to find himself, his destiny, his future was unsure like everyone, but he knew that blood would call him to be a rider, like in all his family, there were no man, no Allen who wouldnt skip the destiny of being a rider, and now, there was Valken, the last of the Allen, with his father and his dragon killed in duty, he said that he would be a rider, he dreamed about it, but all faith went down when is mother and his sister died, he had no one to make proud of. He wasnt even sure of what did he wanted now. He run with azkadee a female dragon, and he just fell in love with the nature of that dragon, the way they could connect trough the mind, and far from that, he wasnt afraid, he was dazzled by those animals. And Az made him realize a point he never thought of, what if humans were in the dragons position, would humans like to be rid? Dragons just wanted to be free, and so Valken. They weren't so different. Valken was quitting on being a rider, he just wouldnt like to have a 'slave' on his own, instead of that he would prefer to have a friend. Valken was a noble person, he was a person that usually hid every feeling, he was polite, and shy. Some times he had sense of humor, but he was more of a listener than a talker.

Valken just wanted to live in peace, with his friends thunder and steve, and why not? now Azkadee was his friend, or he was his dinner eventually, but no, he was seeking something that would probably not reach.

Valken was ridding with thunder and steve to the mountains of Maldragua, he didnt even knew where was he, he was kind of lost, he wasnt such a good guide, so he just let thunder follow the way he wanted, after all he had no place to go. He was hungry, he was tired and he was about to fall asleep. But he heard voices, his eyes quickly opened and started to look around, he whispered to steve "you heard that boy?" and he jumped off thunder and walked straight, trying to see from where those voices were coming. He was just wishing not being in the necessity of kill somebody, he would hate it, apart that he had a weaknesses for blood, he could see it, smell it and vomit as a reaction. the Blood was his worst enemy.

[Silisia Anja Saffy]

Silence followed her call and Sil was tempted to turn back and find that wretched horse of hers. As she turned slightly, she heard the familiar gruff voice of the infamous dragon rider. Relief washed over her as well as anxiety. Her sharp hearing picked his a small hiss and she almost backed away as she saw the rider leave the shadows. However, his dragon still had its wing protectively curled around him. She frowned at his next words.
“If I wanted to turn you in I would have brought the army’s of Samarid with me as I alone am no match for you and your dragon,” she replied, hoping he would come to see the truth in her words. The thought had not even crossed her mind.
“I do not take you for a fool, Gwynder, and I do not expect you to follow me. I may be a queen, but I am not your queen,” she said softly, running her eyes over him. She noted the strain in his voice.
“You’re still hurt,” her voice was touched by some strange compassion.

She took a tentative step forward, eyeing the dark caves behind her with some suspicion.
“I know you’d probably rather not have my help, but I can heal you,” she ventured. She knew a lot of people distrusted the use of pure magic. It was quite an intimate thing. After all, the sorcerer in a way had to reach inside the other person’s body through their own mind. It was said that the person being healed had a great awareness of the sorcerer’s presence and personality. That’s why people preferred witches who used herbs to channel their magic. This was opposed to a sorcerer who used their own life force to heal. Sil had avoided healing others for this very reason.

She contemplated her answer for his next words as she watched him step free of the dragon’s protective hold. She stood her ground, neither walking forward nor fleeing backward.
“I would not seek your help rider, if I could gain it from myself or Aila,” she said, trying to make it clear that she had come to him out of desperation. “In a battle a few months ago I was wounded with a blade containing the poison of a Gwenwyn Dragon. I was told that only dragon riders know the cure. I can keep the poison at bay with my own magic, but I can do little else.”
She stopped her speech, feeling utterly foolish for begging this rider who clearly wanted nothing to do with her.
“I’m not asking as the queen of Samarid and I don’t expect you to do it out of kindness. I can reward you any way you want.”
She took a deep, unsettled breath and watched the rider carefully. She glanced over her shoulder and frowned. She thought she had heard something however; it could just be a wild animal. Weariness gently reminded her to take care and she stepped backward, away from two possible sources of danger.

[/blockquote]

[Gwyndar]

For one short moment a hysterical laugh escaped the nomadic rider. Brought the entire army to get him? He was honored. "I would have thought a queen of strategic understanding would have a better concept that an army could be heard from the foot of the mount and my dragon and I would have been long gone before you got close to this cave. Do not think I am new at this game monarch. I have spent five years evading your armies, and that of your enemies. I have grown weary of their predictability." The thought was passed his lips before he even knew they had entered his mind. it was however true. the nomadic ones knew their surroundings and without any trouble the marching - or charging - of an army would be heard for miles.

At the queens mention of his still being injured the rider simply replied coldly. His voice flat and almost spiteful at the way things were in his life. "I am always 'still hurt'. Not a day goes by I am without injury." With a huff he did not even let her offer of help finish before his voice roared through the cave with a force so rage filled that Siluth himself made a noise of displacement. "I will not be healed by those who have driven me from my home and forced these injuries upon me!" His face was almost as ferocious as the image displayed in his wanted poster. The royal proclamation half a decade past still were clearly visible in the surrounding villages. and it was true. Gwyndar was driven from his home for an action he felt he was too intoxicated by merriment and defensive training to prevent. "I am a wanted man but by god i still have my pride!" He roared again, beating a single fist against his chest before ironically crumbling under the pain of the injury being offered healing.

While he himself regained his composure he was forced to listen to the monarchs ailment complaint. He was no medicinal healer, she had said herself she was one. But upon hearing of the poisoned blade he felt the colour drain from his own face. Only dragon riders had access to such magic, and it was so highly toxic that even Gwyndar himself never dared brew it. It was against the code as a rider to harm anyone with such magic. Though he be a wanted man, Gwyndar was still a dragon rider. He followed his training still, simply not under the leadership of the dragon leader. "Show me. Show me the wound. Claims of this magic is not something I take light in heart." However, before he even took a step forward he commanded his dragon behind with a voice most strong. <"Go to the meadow, find the Manu tree and get the Kuitan. Be she true or not, time is not a luxury is she be truthful.">

<"But she is the queen ... why should I bother to help her."> His dragon replied with just as much stubborn integrity as his rider. "Go and fetch if! I refuse to let more death be at my hands you great beast!" With one final huff through its giant nostrils the black shadow dragon stood from its bed and set of to the sky in almost a vertical ascent. The meadow was high on the mountaintop. Only dragons were able to survive the altitude without it affecting them. Riders, both elf and man were unable to stand the pressure at the top and would be useless in any search.

At the very top of the mountain within the meadow was a tree so high that dragons felt the strain on their wings to reach the top. However, blooming all year around from the top four branches was the antidote Kuitan. A herb so powerful that only a dragon could pluck it from its tree without being harmed. Riders were taught to use it in medicine for their wounds, as it healed fast. But a poison was almost as easy to concoct from the plant. A surprising number of uses it had in the field. With riders being very wary to use it. "Show me the wound woman! He will return but I must assess the level of toxicity in your blood." The voice was low and clinical as he came forward and looked towering over the queen. He was always a tall man, giving him more ease at his battles. But right now it gave him a strange difficulty.

Slowly getting to his knees he waited for the woman to display her wound for him so he might see the complex magic that had been caused by a fellow rider. Yet ... from this angle the queen did not look so ... arrogant. No. From here he could see very clearly the way her face was shaped out, the hint of elvish blood obvious in her features much like it was his own. And it surprised the rider to find himself thinking something very out of character, and something even more distressing than the pressing matter. 'The queen is actually quite beautiful ...'

[Silisia Anja Saffy]

Sil found a dark frown touch her brow at the rider’s laughter. Irritaion seeped through her at the man’s arrogance and seeming ill regard for other people.
“I suppose you are right, but the real point of my statement is that currently I am at your mercy and am hardly in the position to turn you in,” the man was beginning to grate of her nerves. She had never come across such a stubborn, pig headed man. She gritted her teeth and tried to control her own temper.
“Evading my armies? I gave up hope that the dragon riders would ever come to our aid long ago as even our allies cower in their little hole,” she scoffed in annoyance, surprised the man thought so much of himself as to think she would waste resources sending out armies looking for a traitorous rider. If he betrayed his own kind, he would not think twice to betray the people of Samarid.

Her compassion was short-lived as she found her offer thrown back into her face. She grimaced at his outburst but stood her ground. Her eyes glittered coldly.
“Do not blame others for your own actions,” she hissed angrily. She was forced to send riders out to defend Samarid against the wrath of the Dragon Riders. That had scoured her country, and even razed a village to the ground for her refusal to cooperate in the search for Gwynder. They forced her hand to send out her armies to look for the infamous rider who now stood before her. Her anger boiled quietly beneath her calm exterior. She pursed her lips at his second outburst, fighting to control her own words. Instead, she remained silent, her eyes cold and guarded. Not sympathy entered her eyes as he beat upon his broken ribs.
“So be it. If you allow your pride to cause you pain, so be it!” her voice was soft but filled with a threatening anger.

She watched him carefully as she completed her request. Most of her wanted to turn around and walk away. Perhaps she’d be lucky enough to find another rider below and perhaps they’d be more willing to help. However, she noticed a slight paling at her own words. So, it was as bad as they said. A slow killer, it was rumoured, extremely painful. Luckily she could treat the symptoms with her own magic but could do very little more. His words irritated her, and defiantly she looked him squarely in the eyes. So he believed that she may be lying? Pshaw! Of course, it must be a common thing that a queen travels leagues out of her homeland, alone, and seeks out the help of a murderous dragon rider. However, she stopped her own pride getting in the way and took a deep breath to calm her irritations.

However, as she reached for her shirt, she heard the rider snap at his dragon. His words chilled her to the core and she remained still for a few moments. Her breathing increased a little. His tone suggested a great urgency. Perhaps the seriousness of this had escaped the queen. She had been poisoned before and quite quickly saved from death,. She should have realised its seriousness when it was only the dragon riders who knew the antidote. She watched the great dragon leave, flying very steeply to the tip of the mountains. She kept her eyes on the black beast and barely noticed Gwynder stepp forward and speak again. She glanced up at the towering man and quickly averted her gaze. She even ignored his address of her as woman which on any other occasion would have caused her to flame up in anger. With trembling hands, she lifted her shirt. She lifted the blood stain riding tunic over her head and discarded it on the floor leaving herself in her under garments which was a light white shirt which she lifted to display the wound.

The wound was in a very awkward position, just below her right breast. Luckily the man had not found a good aim and had imbedded the knife between her ribs. Her pale skin was broken by a wound about three inches long. The wound itself was swollen and it was clear that it had been attempted to heal it. Angry red lines stemmed from the wound over her abdomen and the flesh itself was far from healthy. The skin around the wound had turned a violet. She frowned. It had become much worse over the last few days.

He seemed more gentle then the brute who she had met a few minutes ago as he got to his knees. Suddenly, she was very aware of how close he was and the exotic smell of his skin. She stiffened as she waited for him to examine the wound. Her heart beat uncomfortably fast, as she looked down as the arrogant, yet very handsome, outlaw dragon rider.

[Gwyndar]

"Don't mock me Monarch. When you spend every waking moment looking over your shoulder only then will I allow you the authority to mock my precautions." Gwyndar growled. "You do not have to worry that the moment your eyes are closed that there is someone who still holds a grudge, someone who remembers who you are and what you did. Someone like a fellow rider who has remained in training and is more powerful, ready to take a blade to your throat the second your eyes are closed." Sometimes the slightest crack in the woods made the rider seeking out an enemy. Paranoia was a funny thing like that. No more could Gwyndar enjoy the morning chorus or the calm serenity of the insects as the moon stood high. It only took one slip and he could be lost forever.

With a gruff huff the rider did not even make eye contact with the queen as his voice lost its gruff exterior. Leaving still a coarse tongue; but with no malice. "You have no understanding of the constant vigilance one must take when you make nowhere your home and everywhere you sleep is someone else's territory." Leaving it at that the rider on his knees in front of the queen watched as she disrobed. The pride shedding with each layer before she stood before him in the open only in her undergarments. "Follow me." He ordered slowly, raising to his feet and leading the way into the mouth of the long dark cave. Nearer the back was more private but still lit for the riders to see. Enough for him to work and keep the queen out of sight. "We do not want you seen to be mingling with my type." He mumbled, there was no malice in the voice. For once.

"The wound is quite bad, the reason it is so painful is that this?-" He indicated to her wound, now with red stemming lines angrily cutting across her flesh. "-reacts to magic. Why do you think no elf nor witch has ever been able to heal such a poison? you may have been giving yourself some relief from the pain. But you have made the actual spread faster." His face was hard as stone, set emotionless and as clinical as a medic as he indicated for her to again show him the wound. In the mean time he himself retreated to the opening of the cave to retrieve his cloak and protective clothing. The cloak with it had been one that cost him a pretty penny of gold. But ... desperate times.

With one quick flash the blade at his side had sliced through the material of the cloak, leaving a ragged edge down the side of it. Long enough that it would wrap around the queens abdomen. Putting the knife in his mouth to hold it a second longer he tore the rest of the strip from the bottom to just below the hood. A second strip from the other side he took in case, before finally sheathing his weapon and returning to the queen with the remaining things he left in Stryklak. As he looked up he could clearly see the shape of his dragon in the sky. Seemingly returning with the plant.

Once by the monarchs side the rider threw his things down without so much as a care and put the cloak down on the ground. Offering the queen something of a sympathetic look as he asked her. "Lie down there, it wont be as cold with the cloak." His voice still was the stiff gruffness that he could never be rid of. But somewhere within the wording lay a sense of compassion. A goal to protect a life other than his own. "I need to see it properly and this is the easiest way." He said quietly as the loud flapping of wings beat down upon the earth once more. <"She is more trouble than she is worth."> The grumbling dragon huffed, a small plume of steam huffing through its nostrils in defiance.

<"As long as she lives."> He replied coldly, looking at the queen for a second longer than necessary. It was true. She was incredibly beautiful for someone so primped and preened all her life. <"You got the plant?"> <"You insult me with your doubt Gwyndar."> <"Deal with it."> The mental conversation took place as the rider walked forward to his dragon and took the offending plant from its great mouth, avoiding the fangs as the dragon snapped them at its emotion driven rider. "Sit tight Monarch. The antidote should not take long to finish." He called back to her as he went about his things, all that a rider carries and supplies that gwyndar carried with him anyway. A passel mortar for one, seen as the amount of herbal remedies he had picked up over the years grew In number the number of times he sparred with his ever growingly angry dragon.

Slowly, and with great care the rider set about pummeling the plant in the great stone bowl. The beginning of the cure was in motion.

[Silisia Anja Saffy]

Sil remained silent at the rider’s retort. Of course he had a valid point. She had never experienced his world and in truth perhaps she was missing the whole story. She had only heard one side, perhaps his side needed to be heard before she could make any judgements about the man.
“I am sorry,” she said softly, humbling herself. “You are right.”
She looked down, away from him. The man had utterly floored her. While she did not always act like a queen, she had never been treated in this manner before and she did not know how to deal with it. However, she guessed that she could not win an argument with this man. He seemed to be so angry and bitter, no reason nor compassion nor love nor joy could break into his interior.

She looked away as he refused to meet her eyes. She kept quiet as he spoke. Sometimes the best thing to do was to remain silent. A deep blush touched her cheeks as she exposed her body to the man. She even refused to have a servant dress her. Utterly vulnerable and humbled, the queen kept her gaze directed at the horizon. She picked up her clothing as he ordered her to follow him. Annoyance touched her mind. He could have let her show him in the caves. However, she quickly quietened the thoughts. He had not believed her. Of course he was not going to let her inside his sanctuary. His words struck her. She looked at him curiously, surprised to find no biting malice in the words. He was being honest about how he saw himself, almost.
“You sell yourself short, Rider,” she mused more to herself. He did not have to help her, but the mere fact that he did was testament to his better qualities.

She looked around the dark cave. It smelt like the foreign smell of dragon. She turned to him as he spoke and she cast her eyes down over the wound. She flinched at his words. Of course her actions had been foolish and she had known before hand through the warnings of many medical advisors. However, in pain, she would never have made the journey to Maldragua in time. She looked at him hard.
“Well Rider, perhaps my foolishness will still yet rid the world of another stupid monarch,” she grinned weakly, half thinking that he would actually not care if she died but his previous words echoed in his mind. He did not want her death on his hands but if she had never requested this of him, perhaps her death would make the rider happy. After all, he viewed her as one of his persecutors. She watched him move to the mouth of the cave to retrieve his belongings.

She attempted to call out as he slashed through his cloak to make a bandage. She looked at him surprised. He was destroying his own clothing for her.
“You could have used my tunic,” she stated, a curious confusion touching her voice. She watched him as he continued to make strips out of his cloak, her expression unreadable. His truly had begun to surprise her. Her eyes followed his as he looked outside. His dragon must be returning. Relief and fear spread through her. Just because he had not harmed her, did not mean that he would not.

She took a weary step away from his as he returned to where she was standing. Her eyes watched him carefully as he put his stuff down and lay the cloak on the ground. She bit back some annoyance at his sympathetic look. Even when trifling with death, Sil had resolved herself not worthy of sympathy and neither did she desire it. However, she did as he asked and timidly sat on the cloak. She however, refused to lie down. She pulled her knees up to her chest, protecting herself and hiding her body from view. She peered at him wearily, unsure of the hint of compassion she detected. She mulled over his last words and deemed it to be necessary to lie down. However, before she made her move, the dragon returned. She remained silent, and still, feel fragile and childlike and looked to the floor.

She glanced up at his spoken word. Much seemed to be going on between rider and dragon that Sil could not see.
“Take your time Rider,” she said, somewhat flippantly. “Please, call me Silisia. I am in your world, and out of your mouth, Monarch seems to be a great insult.”
She watched him work on the antidote, toying in her mind about the possibility of death. The kingdom would cope and her younger adopted sister would rise to the throne, or her cousin would. Both of them were able, fair people. She had little personal life to lose, so death itself did not seem too harsh. Her eye lids became heavy and the pain increased exponentially. She tried to keep her focus on the rider as he worked but her concentration was slipping.
“Gwynder?” she said softly, as she tried to hold on. “Thank you. People ... are wrong...about... you...”
If that was all she ever managed to say, that would be enough. She leant back against a rock, her breathing becoming a little more laboured. The adrenaline of the day that had been keeping the symptoms at bay had gone and her magic had worn off.

[Gwyndar]

"I sell myself not; I speak of a reputation such as a queen cannot afford to lose." He mumbled fleetingly, giving no other mention of the reputation that he himself over the years had accumulated. He killed when the need arose, but innocent blood for no reason at all when he had an opportunity to preserve it? That was another story. Gwyndar wasn't always a murderer. There was a time where he would happily share a smile or even an evening with a beautiful woman. Not any longer, once branded a killer the world saw a title. Not a person trying to survive after a drunken mishap. "We don't want any gossip to spread." His word was a final sentence on his opinion on the matter. Showing a contempt for even his own self.

Still, as he looked down at the very vulnerable queen, bleeding from her side he could not stop the pang of guilt washing through his eyes. She had told him she was poisoned months ago? Her chances of surviving this long had been cut short due to her easing her pain. Of course she would do all she could to stop it hurting. the pain of such a poison ... slow and drawn out. One of the most horrible deaths, whosoever struck her with it must really have something against the queen. Her words made him sigh, of course it would be his reputation that made the idea of less monarchs appealing. It was never the case ... Gwyndar just refused to follow leadership.

"And you say I am the one to sell myself short?" He asked, visibly raising one large eyebrow. "There cannot be less one monarch in the world. Your world is as cruel as my existence. Replaced the moment you die. At least there will never be another Gwyndar when I am dead." He mused, not giving away any more expression other than concern for getting his mission finished before the poor queen perished. "After all, who would chase out all the dangerous ones of us around the world without you." It was not meant with sarcasm, but his voice was obviously strained by something. Be it the pain in his chest with every movement or the disgust at his past. Neither was more obvious.

"Do not fret monarch. You shall not perish by my hand." This time, the voice was soft, the gruffness almost all but gone. That he promised himself. No more death by his hand. Even the queens comment over using her own clothes to aid him made him laugh but a little. "I can get more material. You majesty, must be returned to your case in the same condition, if not better than when you left. I would not use your royal garbs for this means." Little did the poor queen know of the pain that was to follow the treatment. The poison was slow acting, making sure to seep itself into every pore of the body, blackening the blood, killing the skin holding it and in the end poisoning the blood itself right to the brain.

the death itself was only slightly more agonizing than the cure. But still he would need to warn her before he acted would he not? After all, he was known to be a killer. Surly she could misconstrue his actions as counter productive.

Again, the queen shocked Gwyndar as he laughed again; "That is because it is an insult majesty. Though i have no personal qualm against you, your way of living and your people who take your name give your name an edge of hatred in my eyes." He huffed a laugh, continuing to pummel the herb in the passel. The antidote was not for the light hearted, nor for the squeamish. But it got the job done.

Scrambling on his knees to his things he picked out a small box of what seemed to be berries before throwing them over his shoulder and grabbing one of the stones hidden under the layers of hiding material. "The rocks of this mount are said to have absorbed the magic round it." Walking back to his passel and grinding it with the herbs Gwyndar looked at the queen before giving her a reassuring look. "Don't scream." Slowly standing he took the knife from his side and looked down at the queen before slashing fast and cleanly. Blood very soon dripping from his outstretched hand, the droplets falling into the passel before he moved over to the dragon with the stone bowl. <"Stay still."> <"You think I'm stupid enough to move with you holding that thing?> The dragon huffed, turning its head to the entrance of the cave as a safe guard.

Dragons were lucky in that their scales - though filled with blood - had no nerve endings or muscles. The quick slash at the dragons side, pouring a small trickling stream of blood into the passel didn't even make the beast flinch. Very quickly the rider returned to his place beside the queen, cross legged and pounding into the bowl with the stone grinder. Watching the woman intently as a sudden wave hit her. It was only natural for it to happen. She had probably been exerting herself. That however only made the process more complicated.

"Now, I'm going to tell you exactly what I'm going to do. And it's going to hurt more than the wound made in all the time you have had it. But you cannot thrash or move alright? It will be like fire across your belly but if you shift i cannot get to where i need to." His voice was soft and calm as lifted the skirt a little further to expose the wound. It was terrible to look at and looked so angry and inflamed that the rider wondered how brave the queen was willing to be.

[Silisia Anja Saffy]

Her response to his words was a mere smile. She had to admit that he was right. Any lapse in her reputation would most certainly lead to mutiny. She grudgingly remained silent. She was not used to being out argued by anyone, but it was somewhat refreshing. She tilted her head slightly at the mention of gossip.
“Now tell me rider, who is crazy enough to climb these mountains and see us and let alone be close enough to recognise either of us?”
She knew his voice had signalled the end of the conversation, but although the queen had been losing much of the discussion, she would try having some final say. She watched him quietly, utterly unsure of what to think of the coarse, and once seemingly cruel man. His whole personality seemed to change and warp between what is and what once was.

She watched him, unsure of the emotion in his eyes. Her own eyes remained wary of the ever changing Rider.
“I am sorry for coming,” she said softly. “I must have put you in a very awkward position.”
Fear began to ignite and run through her body. She was not sure how much damage her self healing had done, never mind the court physician’s attempts to heal her themselves. If she died here, it would make him look very bad indeed, even if he truly wanted to help her. For that, she would fight. Perhaps he would see himself redeemed if he saved her. One death eradicated by allowing another to live. However, if he would see it that way was another question all together.

She smiled wryly at his words. True, she was just being hypocritical. However, his next words made her laugh.
“I don’t do not need to sell myself short,” she mused. “You seem to handle that department rather well. It’s better to be an individual who cannot be replaced then be someone that will be replaced without a second thought. I envy you, Gwyndar.”
She fell silent as a heaviness fell over her. She did not enjoy her life as a queen. It was restricted and often caused her great stress almost for nothing. Her lips twitched into a wry smile at his words.
“I am sorry,” she said genuinely. “I shall find better riff raff to waste my country’s resources on.”

“I do not fear death, Rider,” she said. “However, I only fear for you if I chose such an inconvenient place to die.”
She knew her kingdom would hunt him down if anyone confessed that she had been with him at the time of death. She could never allow that.
Gwyndar’s words made her sigh in exasperation.
“I can gain cloth more easily than you can. That tunic is far beyond repair anyway, and pre-soaked in blood. But I assure you that I don’t care about your damned pride. I shall replace your cloak before I leave.”
She smiled in a weak challenge, half expecting the outburst that she had seen from him only a few minutes ago.

As he laughed, Sil could not help but to smile herself. She had not expected him to display much human emotion, especially positive emotion. Her smile faded a little at his words. He was justified to hate her and the rest of the world in fact. However, she did not want him to hate her. She remained silent to his words, unsure of how to take them.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” she said softly. “I hate being a queen. I was born into the wrong bloodline.”
Her royal life had not been easy. Politics and corruption had reigned in her father’s rule and his absence had caused terrible things to happen to her and her mother. She pushed the memories out of her mind. The people themselves hated being ruled by a woman. To them, it just was not right in a men’s world.

She watched him gather materials without saying much. Heaviness touched her brow as she looked at the coarse man. Her eyes grew wide as he cut into his own hand, although as requested, she did not scream. Not that she was much of a screamer anyway. She had seen her fair share of blood and death in battles, and although she did not enjoy it, she was used to it. She watched wearily as he did the same to the dragon and she expected the creature to lash out but it didn’t. She nodded at the rider’s next words. She had not realised that she would have to go through a great amount of pain anyway.

“I’m... ready,” she grinned weakly, annoyed at her fading. She tried not to flinch as he lifted her shirt to expose the wound. She reached up and touched her hand to his thigh. The human contact made her feel braver, but perhaps foolishly brave. It always felt easier to do something knowing someone else was there. She gently wrapped her fingers around his thigh as much as she could and looked at him with an expression of steel.
“I’ll be fine,” she whispered. “Just do it.”
She hardened her body and waited calming for the pain to begin.

[Gwyndar]

Keeping silent in the first instance the gruff rider made sure that the female queen was settled in her position. He meant her no harm. Quite the opposite, he wished to help her. Yet there was a strange pulling sensation long forgotten, long lost in the years of pain and anger. Yet as he looked down at the woman all he could think about was how beautiful the queen was. Silisia. Beautiful. <"She is getting to you young one. I knew I should have killed her when she came here."> <"hush Siluth, I am not affected by her. I can still appreciate a woman despite what you think."> The Dragon let out a small laugh, puffing out a plume of smoke before he added <"Remember what happened the last time you fell for the wiles of a beautiful woman.">

That having been said, the girl had been petulant and spoiled. She had nothing to lose in her life by mothering a convicts baby. But a Queen! She came from a different world and for a long moment Gwyndar simply ... looked at her. Looked down with eyes hardened by time and the pain of rejection from society. Now softened in the wake of something stirring deep in him, something that the well versed rider somehow could not understand.

Clearing his throat at the point where his staring became awkward for him he turned away and looked to the dragon. Directing him so that the Queen knew exactly what he was doing. "Cover the entrance Siluth, we want no-one finding her Silisia like this." With a small huff he turned back to the queen and attempted at a smile. After all, she had made him laugh; a feat most aplaudable. "You are no more awkward than my very existence. I only thank that I am here in time to finally do something that defies this proceeding reputation." The long straggly hairs on his head fell over his face as he leaned over the queen and gently ran his long calloused hands over the markings on her abdomen.

It was only then that he felt the delicate touch of a hand on his thigh. A very intimate gesture that at first made the rider look down under him at his leg, confusion covering his face. It was only when he looked back at the face of the woman that the thought occurred to him.

She was afraid. But she trusted him.

"I will do what i can to ease the pain. But I am no healer." It came out more gruff than necessary but in the midst of his words he felt a strain appear in his lower body. Something very strange but very familiar to the long time lost male. Though his mind denied the thought it was clear to him that his body responded to the delicate touch of a woman. That his body called to be loved as it once was, as it was the night that changed his life.

Slowly and keeping within eye contact the rider Took the hand from his thigh and held it in his own strong hand. "Squeeze my hand. Imagine putting all that pain into my hand." He meant it to be a way of her aiding her pain release. But Gwyndar knew as soon as he began the queen would be in terrible agony.

Without giving her any further warning the rider dipped his fingers in the paste he had made and gently traced the line of the wound, placing a hand over it instantly and pressing down. It would have hurt enough to touch, but the paste was meant to counteract the poison. acting as a sort of anti venom, meaning that it would hurt as much as a lesser poison would. "Be strong my Queen." He commanded, keeping his hand with hers but moving the other one behind him to find a bit of the black cloth strip, covering the wound with it and letting the liquid that weeped from the wound be absorbed into the material. It would be a long process for the poor woman, but perhaps ... if she stayed awake it would help.

"Tell me about you life. I want you to give me every detail, from the moment you wake up the second you go to bed. What do you dream about, what is your deepest desire. And remember that I'm staying here." He said gently, his voice full of conviction and desperation as he looked intently at the woman, his eyes coming into contact with hers and keeping her gaze. It had to work.

[Silisia Anja Saffy]

Sil looked at him in confusion as he gazed at her, with little emotion on his face. The dragon seemed to be almost laughing at him. These mental conversations between the two of them were beginning to annoy her. She smiled questioningly at the man, who soon turned away to instruct his dragon.
“You used my name,” she said in wonder, smiling smugly at him. Although most of their arguments she had lost, she had at least gained some change in the rider’s haunty exterior. She remained calm as he ran his rough hands over her abdomen, but she could not help her breath from catching. Although his hands told a very rough, difficult story, the gentleness behind the gesture was very clear. It was as though the man he used to be was breaking through, if only for just a moment.

She felt a twinge of embarrassment at the look of confusion of the rider’s face. She should not have been so forward. After all, even though she took comfort in his presence, only a few minutes ago the rider had hated her very existence. But then he surprised her. It was as though he understood her gesture and responded to her feelings, albeit a tad gruffly. She smiled at him, unaware of the poor man’s bodily reaction to her touch.
“Thank you,” she said again, finding it slightly easier to form the words. She had to take a stand now, and steel herself for the unimaginable pain to come.

Comfort eased across her mind as Gwyndar took her small hand in his own. She squeezed it softly in appreciation.
“I’m not sure you want to say that if you had any appreciation for the well being of your hand,” she joked weakly, but her laughter was soon crushed as Gwyndar put the antidote on the wound. First, it just stung at his touch, and she almost pulled away, but the second feeling was indescribable pain. She opened her mouth but quickly stopped a cry of pain. Her muscles tensed and her breathing became quick. A single tear slipped from her eye. She squeezed his hand as tight as she could automatically, but her world soon began to blacken. Her body had no idea how to react to the pain it was experiencing. She vaguely heard his voice telling her to be strong. She was about to close her eyes but was roused by the Rider’s voice. Her grip on his hand began to lessen.

She could not comprehend what he said for a moment and stared blankly up at him. She could think of nothing but the pain searing her abdomen. She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her last ounce of strength. She squeezed his hand again and forced her eyes to open.
“The servants... they wake me up... at around seven,” she gasped, struggling to focus. She remained silent for a moment trying to remember her day between the desire to scream. “They... they... want dress me, but... it’s same argu... ment every... day.” She managed to smile weakly at the Rider, before grimacing as another strong wave of pain went through her. She was breathing heavily now and a bead of swat rolled down her face. She started to doubt if she’d be strong enough to make it through.
“Can’t let them... not since him... he’s always with me... in my head...” her words became uncensored as she described her day. She looked up at him blankly as though she had forgotten where she was and who she was with. “Gwyndar, it... hurts.”
She looked away, her breathing shallow as the great fire went on a rampage through her body.

“I have... early morning counsel... lunch... then ride... far... away... be free,” she had no clue if she was making sense and at the very moment she did not care if he did not understand a word out of her mouth.
“I can’t...” a few more tears left her eyes, as she met his gaze again. She tried to steel herself against the pain and continue, “Supper... bath... bed. Don’t... sleep well. I dream... dream of war, and... fear . I... don’t know who... I am. I... can’t... jus... be queen... There... must be more... freedom... individuality... love.”
Her voice stopped on the last word, a sense of longing touching it. It was foolish to even think of such a thing.
“If... If I ... wasn’t queen...would you like me?”
She looked up desperately into the mysterious man’s eyes. She tried to pull herself into sitting position, but failed miserably. She lay back, breathing hard. Whether it had been mere minutes or hours, Sil did not know. Time quickly melted into an elusive entity.

“My life is boring,” she concluded, as the pain began to ease.

[Gwyndar]

Keeping a steady face the rider was for once glad that his life had protected him from being affected by the results of pain in another being. He could stand their screams, their crying ... he was a stone carved out of hatred. And the queens reaction to the antidote only brought back that gruffness, disregarding his goal to protect her he watched as she tried to regain control over her body. It was working, each time he swiped the now dirty rag over her wound he found the swelling dissipate and the line on her skin slowly fading.

It did however mean that he was more focused upon watching the poison dissipate rather than keeping the queen calm. It was his instinctive reaction to blot out any emotion and keep himself in control of his body. That was how he had survived for so long as the nomadic loner. By being sure that he understood and anticipated every move his body made, only then could he keep his senses ready for signs of outward life around him.

Yet while he half listened to the womans rambling - his attempt at distracting her from the pain - he found himself quizzing her on one particular element. "Him? Who is this 'him', and how is he in your head? Is he a Sorcerer?" The gruff dulcet tone of his voice returned as he gave the rag a final wipe along the wound. It was no longer weeping and the slash itself was beginning to close. Meaning that he needed to put the pressure back onto the wound. "Come on, keep talking. It's the only time I'll ever tell you to." He commanded, his voice full of an authority he had not earned or been born to compared to the Queen. Yet it felt good to command someone other than his dragon who was bound by him anyway.

As he spoke the rough hand was placed firmly on the point of entry, gripping the small woman and sealing in the remainder of the open wound. "Its meant to hurt Silisia; its just the poison in reverse." There was no comfort from the clinical explanations he gave when he spoke. Only a calm that did not seem to suit the atmosphere within the cave. His hair, having to constantly be flicked from his face now feeling the moisture of sweat on his brow as he worked to keep the queen alive. "If you give into it, then all this was pointless." The grumbled. "Keep going."

Still the queen rambled, his hand he could feel the warmth from the wound now in the final stage of repair. He did not give any indication as to what would happen once the antidote had completed its course through the body. The pain relief would almost be instant once it was over, almost like she had woken from a nightmare many had commented who had survived the treatment. But Gwyndar was not ready to simply go on what others had said. He learned through experience. He lived through experiencing everything and making sure that he knew everything within his world as well as he knew himself. Which at this point ... seemed to be not very well.

<"She will survive young one. stop worrying."> "Oh be quiet Siluth and keep watch for intruders. I am not in the mood." He yelled at the Dragon, closing his eyes and baring his teeth in aggravation. It was then that he caught the sight of the woman as she gazed up at him. He could not help himself but return the gesture, staring down at her helpless body. Exposed and still very broken. Her question was odd, and for a short moment the rider panicked that the woman had gone past the state of pain and into delirium. "Delirium is a symptom of the pain queen, do not let if take you." He said simply; lowering his gaze from her and taking his hand finally from the womans body as her final statement caught his ears.

"Oh yes, it sounds mind numbing. Being waited on hand and foot, how terrible." The small sarcastic laugh was simply followed by the rider letting his hand free from the queens and standing upright. "Stay there, the pain should top soon. It is done." As if nothing had occurred between the two Gwyndar put a hand against the dragons side and stepped outside as the great beast gave way for him to exit. Leaving the queen so that he may mull over his own thoughts. <"I warned you Gwyndar. Do not get involved. She is bad for you."> <"like you are any better."> The gruff voice in his head had returned much as it had his words. As he sat the rider winced and let out a hiss as he twisted himself. The pain he could deal with in his own manor. the discomfort itself was simply ... inconvenient.

"Siluth and I will return you to the base of the mount when you are once more dressed. Make no mistake monarch; you will be returned safely." He called back to the woman, his own ears pricking up with his dragons as he heard approaching noises. Horseback? It was not far ... who would travel here on horseback? Who had such a death wish?

[Silisia Anja Saffy]

Sil found his return to his old mindset very isolating. She gritted her teeth and attempted not to care that the man had little regard for her. She was foolish to ever think that he was warming to her. She became annoyed and angry as the pain pushed her to her emotional limit. She frowned at his words. While he had promised he would not leave her, she felt as though he had left her in mind.
“He is none of your business,” she snapped angrily at him, channelling both her fear and her pain into aggression. She hated that the pain was taking away her inhibitions. She could neither censor her words nor control her fluctuating emotions. She ignored his dabbing, half wanting to get up and leave. However, her body would have never permitted. She frowned at his command by obliged.

She resented the way he talked to her. Every bit of compassion that had once been there was gone before she had even chance to savour any of it. She gritted her teeth and fought, not to please his efforts but so that she could have enough energy to snap back at him, and right now she wanted to take one clay tablet and throw it at him. She looked up ahead, away from the rider’s gaze and continued to talk. Why had he asked her to talk if he could not have been bothered to listen in the first place? She flinched as the rider snapped at his dragon. Yet, still she spoke, just to annoy him if anything else. She was hurt at his refusal to answer her question. The pain was subsiding, but the pain of disappointment now moved through her. She had thought he was good and kind beneath his exterior, but once again she was wrong. She felt him remove his hand from her grasp. She had little to say to him by the time he replied to her final statement.

As he left her, she pulled herself into sitting position and weakly grabbed her tunic to pull over her exposed body. The pain had left her body but confusion and disappointment remained. She wiped her brow, and slowly got to her feet. She swayed for a moment, her body tired but she soon managed to find her footing as the rider stood at the entrance to the cave. She ignored his hiss of pain as he twisted but watched him carefully. If he wanted to be stupid, he could. His pride would kill him.

“I don’t need your charity Rider,” she replied, all warmth dissipating from her voice. “I thank you but I will make the journey down the mountain myself. I have perfectly good legs.”
She moved from her standing place toward the entrance of the cave. What had she expected? He was the same rude, coarse person she had met in Aila’s shop. Just because he had a moment of compassion did not mean that he had redeemed himself. She knew he still hated her, as he referred to her once again as Monarch. She moved passed him, ignoring him as much as she could but she brushed him slightly as she made her way out the cave. She turned, confusion lit her eyes.
“I will be in the village for the next day. I will leave your reward with Aila,” she stated simply. If she treated this like a business transaction, it removed her from feeling for him. She let her eyes linger over his rough face and carved torso, but before she allowed her heart to flutter, she turned to leave.