You Are Made of Iron

Chapter VI pt. 4

While Zeilla and Maeron Viljast left, although he never looked back, Zeilla did so once and as she did one thought crossed her mind, So long you miserable bastard! She knew that he was thinking something along the same lines as that for himself, he was always feeling sorry for himself even when other people were obviously in worse shape.
​The means of transportation that Sir Viljast chose was a small carriage one that only held two people in the passenger seats and so Zeilla was made to sit next to Maeron. Although she previously had feelings of malice aimed at Silas, now she was realizing that her new master was not guaranteed to be any better than her old one. She could tell that Silas was afraid of him and if Silas was afraid of Maeron then he must be either really strong or really powerful. Silas was rarely afraid of anyone.
​Zeilla had her head bowed as to not let the man see her eyes –her very peculiar violet eyes– because if he were to see them he might tell her to let him look at them more, which would require looking him in the eye, and that prospect was one she dearly wished to avoid.
​The ride went more or less uncomfortably with Zeilla flinching every time the carriage hit a bump. The girl mumbled something and cracked a small smile, however this little movement was not lost on Maeron and he asked her what she had said.
​"Oh," her head dipped down and her shoulders went up defensively, "I wasn't saying anything sir."
​"So are you saying that I was mistaken, child?" he asked.
​She defiantly couldn't be doing that, "N-no sir."
​"But then you would be contradicting yourself, you're not saying anything and yet I am not mistaken that you said something."
​Zeilla looked up at him for a second –forgetting that she didn't want him to see her eyes– she blinked, mystified at what he had just said and Maeron stared. Zeilla knew that his surprise was because of her eyes and instinctively shut them as tight as was physically possible and ducked her head down again.
​Maeron however put his left hand under her chin and gently pushed up so that he could see her face, he said, "It is all right girl. You can open your eyes." Zeilla kept them shut and Maeron let out an exasperated sigh, "I am ordering you to open your eyes Zeilla." He said this in a firm but gentle tone and after a few seconds Zeilla slowly cracked her eyes open to let him see them.
​Even though Maeron had seen the girl's eyes before he was still taken aback, it wasn't just their color, which made them quite something to look at in the first place. What made his heart skip a beat was the person behind those eyes. The ferocity, the fear, the intelligence, the determination, but most of all the brokenness of her gaze like she had been dashed to pieces over and over.
​"Just like your mother was." He whispered.
​Zeilla flinched away from him but then the words he had just spoken sank in. "You've met my mother!" She exclaimed and in that moment any trace of fear vanished to be exchanged with bubbling excitement, "When did you meet her? Where does she live? What does she look like? Is she-"
​"Calm down, calm down" Maeron chuckled with an amused tone that made Zeilla feel embarrassed and frightened once again, "One question at a time Zeilla, and I think you will find it more productive to ask where you are going rather than where your mother is."
​"Ok," the girl said wearily and quietly, "so where am I going?"
​"I'm afraid I can't tell you that." He said with a small laugh. She had the oddest feeling that he was actually laughing at her.
​"Sir, if you cannot tell me where I am going, then why did you mentions it?"
​"Oh, just to arouse your interests and to provoke conversation." And Zeilla thought that she was the only one who liked to use long words to confuse people.
​"Sir, if I tell you what I was mumbling about will you stop saying things like that and tell me about my mother?"
​Maeron grinned at Zeilla, "Sorry but you're going to have to pick one or the other."
​"I want you to tell me about my mother."
​"Deal, you go first."
​"I was thinking about what it would be like to call you master and also whether or not I would have to."
​"You find that amusing?" he asked her with a frown.
​"Well you've got to admit that the prospect of anyone calling you master would sound rather... odd."
​Now a crooked grin spread on her face once more, "Any why is that? Am I, as you said, odd?"
​Zeilla lowered her eyes, her fear of the man not forgotten, this is why she should have just kept her stupid mouth shut. Now she had insulted him.
​"Don't worry girl I'm not going to hurt you, especially over something as trivial as that. And you can just call me 'sir' or 'Maeron' because I'm not going to be your master anyway." He pushed her chin upward again so she was looking him in the eye, "Now I believe that we had a deal, so what do you want to know about her?"
​"Maeron, sir... do you think that she would ever want me back? if I came back home do you think she would take me in?"
​"Zeilla, I know for a fact that she wouldn't want it any other way. And now a second question; how many times exactly have you run away?"