Redemption - Fourth Wing

36. Crimson blood (~)

Aifos' Pov
Ever since the accident with the Brown Scorpiontail, Chex had grown silent. Sometimes, my mind would instinctively reach out to him, and would slam against his shields and my fingers would twitch.
And anytime it would happen, my mind would coil in itself: perhaps we should've let the dragon go; perhaps we should've kept the threat as such, and not act on it; perhaps we should've killed also the orange dragon; perhaps we should run away, we should bed forgiveness to the Gods, to Chex, to each other, we should've...
-He would've come back eventually,- said Ronny, -Besides, he wasn't worthy to be flying up to the skies.-
One night, I grew fed up with cutting my forearms open and with them still dripping with blood I got up and went down to the fighting pit.
The repetitive sounds of smacking fists told me I wasn't alone, and I recognised Garrick's broad shoulders.
"Let's spar," I said, and his eyes fell on my arms, "You sure?"
I swung at him with a fist, and he blocked it with his forearms. The whiplash sent chills of pain up in my arm, but I rejoiced, and we started circling around each other.
Because of his height and width, he had the upper hand in reach, strength and weight, so I was well aware that should stay light on my feet.
Garrick tried again to talk me out of it, but again I attacked him and again he deflected. His strikes were heavy, but skilled, and I found myself ducking under a swing and hitting his ribs.
He grunted in pain, then shifted his body ready for a kick, and I moved consequently. But Garrick switched tactics, and aimed for my forearms instead. My face twisted in pain, but I refused to back down and held back my tears.
Blood was better than tears.
Blood was crimson and bright and painful and could be hidden away with a spell and a cloth around my skin. If I cried, how could I ever cover up the redness of my eyes?
I swung a right hook, but he deflected it again, and slid around my defences and tapped my kidneys. I stumbled, but whirled around trying not to lose sight of him, but he was fast and his arm wrapped itself around my throat.
I was quick at tucking my chin down so as to have my throat protected; then I clasped Garrick's arm with both hands trying to relieve the pressure and I suddenly dropped my weight by squatting. Then, I sharply turned towards Garrick's elbow, and still with his arm tight in my grip I swept my leg and watched him fall.
My forearms throbbed, and his arms was smeared by my blood.
I followed him with my body, and pushed a knee in his stomach. But then his elbow bumped my knee, thus disrupting my balance. He then shoved me away and kicked against my hips.
I flung on my feet, and we both brought our fists in front of our faces.
The zap of pain through my arms told me I should think twice before swinging punches again, but I gritted my teeth and pushed past it.
The match went on, but my strikes grew weaker one by one, until Garrick closed in and faked a left hook and instead swept my legs out under me.
My back hit the mat, and my breathing was laboured.
Now, it was Garrick's knee which was deep in my ribs, and he simply waited for me to tap out. I whimpered in pain when I pushed myself off, and a rush of lightheadiness had me stumbling, but Garrick steadied me with his hand around my bicep.
"Your mind is all fucked up," he said, and I huffed a laugh, "I know."
"Want to heal up now or want to bleed out for a bit longer?"
My lips twitched, "I bleed as long as I want to."
Then shrugged off his hand and walked away, but I had to lock my muscles and eventually I found myself leaning against the wall.
My shields were still intact, but I knew that a minimal slip up would be enough to alert both of my dragons.
"Ehy, listen, I don't know what's going on with you," said Garrick, "But it isn't right to just do that to yourself."
"I know, and I don't care."
"Why not?"
I ignored him and forced my legs to carry me up the stairs. Garrick stayed behind me, and I opened my mind to listen to his baffled thoughts, clear with worry that I would suddenly lose consciousness because of too much blood loss.
I gritted my teeth and pushed on.
I knew exactly how much pain my body could endure: a couple of years ago Queen Arya had come for a visit in Vaeta, and she asked me to spar with her with my forearms sliced open, much like tonight.
The match was quick to end, and her green eyes sparkled coldly in the night, "Your mind's ill. It's a liability."
That night, I cursed the stars.
I was seventeen.
The silence was heavy between us, and we walked past Xaden's room. Ever since his slip up, he'd caged himself in his room, and threw me out of it and into Garrick's. The both of us knew that he was waiting for his eyes to go back to their usual shade, just as we were aware of the fact that he was too unstable to fight beyond the wards.
"We'll have to find a way to send him back to Basgiath," I said.
"Easier said than done," sighed Garrick.
We reached our room, and Garrick tried again to persuade me into healing up. Then, at my silence, he asked me if Xaden knew.
"He does."
"And he didn't do anything to help you?"
My body jerked so suddenly and forcefully Garrick had to steady me again; but I pushed him away and set my jaw tight, my eyes lost in the small speck of sky we could see from the narrow window.
"There's nothing any of us can do," I said, detached, "There are no balms for an injured mind."
"You're going to kill yourself if you keep this up."
I said nothing.
"You wouldn't have survived in Basgiath."
I whirled around, and my palm snapped up; Garrick started wheezing, and I could feel my heart beating in my temples.
"I am as much a Shur'tugal as any of you. Do not dare pity me again."
I opened my hand, and Garrick crumbled on the ground. I stepped over him, and walked out. The breeze was cool on my heated cheeks, and now my forearms were constantly tingling.
I wanted to slash my sword again until I could see the bones, so that my body would know better.
I closed my eyes, and tipped my head up to the stars.
Eragon had already attempted to fix me up, but there was a clean tear in my mind, that no matter his honest work it would refuse to be sealed back to normal.
I was thankful that I would not have forever.
I kept wandering aimlessly, until a silver gleam caught my eyes and I saw Chex deep in his sleep.
A soft smile curled up my lips.
He was gorgeous, with his narrow shoulders and slender body, and with the tip of his snout slightly curved; his Sword-tail glimmered sharply.
My shoulders fell, and I remembered every time that Ronny had refused to talk to me and I had to seek him out and wait for him to deign me of his voice again.
Perhaps my mind had unconsciously linked Chex's silence with Ronny's old brooding, and brought me here.
I wouldn't be surprised if it'd actually happened.
With silent steps, I sat down and put my elbows on my knees. Chex's nostrils flared, and I remembered my wounds, and I quickly healed myself up and wiped off the blood dried up on my skin.
I didn't want him to wake up because he'd smelled my blood.
I lowered my eyelids, and found myself humming a soft tune, that spoke about the stars, and the moon, and two lovers on the opposite sides of a long forgotten war.
The last of the note had just vibrated in the air, when Chex said with a low whisper, -Again, please.-
And so, I complied.
Chex's tail flicking in time with the tune had my lips up in a smile, and my voice grew a little bit bolder.
-And then? What happens? Do they recognise one another?-
-Yes, but it'll already be too late. She will die by her lover's hand.-
-No! Why?-
-Because it's war.-
-Can you change it?-
I huffed a laugh, -Alright. What do you want me to sing?-
-Mmhhh, let me think... Perhaps she can make a move that makes her recognisable to her lover, a little thing, like a step or the way she's holding the sword. Perhaps she can tilt it like that and swing it like this and he has a flash of acknowledgement. And... And then they realise that the world means nothing without each other and they run off together and build up a family. Perhaps in a cottage?-
I raised my eyes to the moon and drummed my fingers on my tight.
-Alright, so it goes.-
The tune started off slowly and softly, only to raise in rhytm and quickness until he recognised her and my voice fell in a sharp silence. Then the song picked up a pace similar to a drumbeat, until the two lovers found the peace they'd been seeking out for years and it circled back to the first notes.
As I was drawing out the last word, I picked up Chex's thoughts, -I should technically be angry with them, they were compliant in the murder of a dragon ... but how can I when they sing to me so sweetly?- He dug holes in the ground with his foreclaws, -Take a damn grip on yourself, you're a dragon, an Iridescent Swordtail, Tairn and Sgaeyl's youngest ward/-
I threw him a cheeky grin.
-Fuck, nevermind,- he thought.
I snorted a laugh and shook my head, "So? Did you like it?"
He briefly hesitated, -Yes. Very much.-
I raised myself up, and reached him slowly; my hand hovered on his scales, whose warmth managed to seep in my skin even if I wasn't touching him yet. Chex chuffed, then pushed his snout against my palm and closed his eyes. I rubbed my thumb across the tiny scar on his upper lip, and I could feel gentleness softening up my features.
Then, Chex brought his snout forward, and brushed the jagged scars on my forearms, -These are new,- he whispered.
I flexed my fingers, -Yes.-
-Did you make them yourself?-
I stayed quiet.
-Why?-
That question was murmured so softly, so gently,it had nothing of Garrick's titleness, of his slight disdain.
-Because I wanted to.-
-Why didn't you tell me?-
-Because I didn't want you to worry.-
He let out a slow sigh, then nuzzled the scars again, -Undress for me, please.-
I took a step back and my eyes fell away, -I... I don't want to do it tonight. I'm sorry.-
-I know. Trust me. Undress yourself.-
His mind lacked the rushness of passion, and the heat of sex, so I slowly did as I was told. Goosebumps shivered all through my naked body at the cold night breeze, and at the snow under my feet.
Chex's eyes were gentle, and didn't drag themselves on my body; instead, he got on his feet, swept a leg in front of me and melted away the snow with a single flame. Then, he laid down again, and opened his wing.
-Come,- he said, and I slid under his wing and against his flank. The ground was warm because of the fire, and so were his scales; his silver wing replaced the sky, and when I turned around I could feel the steady rhythm of his heart.
He curled his tail around me, and so did his body.
-Go sleep, my love. I'll be watching over you.-
His affection for me lulled me to sleep, and for a brief moment I didn't want my body to know better.
My dreams were so ordinary they were forgetful.