Awaken, and Rise a Knight [NAIRORE]

[Zenethil]

Four days. Four long, excruciatingly painful days. That was how long she had been out for. Rituals of healing, prayers of mending, spellcraft and sorcery had kept her alive. And he had been assured that she would live. It was scant consolation for a father, even an adoptive one, who sat watching his first daughter in such a weak and helpless state, invariably caused by his own foolishness, hatred and blindness to her wishes. Each day more colour returned to her face. Each day, she looked marginally healthier. Except today.

Today, she looked positively radiant.

He had entered following another spate of ritual magic, each one of the medics smiling lightly at him as they exited, puzzling him for a moment, before he realised quite why they appeared so pleased with themselves. They were right to be. While some of the damage was irreparable, a few slivers of Naurlambe having fused with her flesh, she was otherwise pristine. Her stomach appeared untouched, not a single blemish upon it. The rends in her flesh from the calamitous explosion of her treasured weapon had vanished, save for the strange bruising caused by the magical warping of the flesh and musculature. It pleased him greatly.

And she began to stir.

His heart skipped a beat. It was the first sign of real movement since she had fallen unconscious in his arms. He took her hand his, his other gently caressing her cheek with the love, that Myrna, in wisdom far beyond her years and appearance, had revealed he should have lavished upon her long ago. He smiled lightly. It was the first time he had shown any emotion since she had gone into this state. Nairore... Wake up... You're safe... He desperately wanted her to hear him. There was so much to tell. So much to say. And, unusually for Zenethil, so much to apologise for. But in return, so much for her to say. To tell. To apologise for. Neither side was innocent. Both were guilty. In different ways, but each was a participant in the tragedy that had befallen her.

[Nairore]

x x

Surrounded by the darkness of her unconscious mind, standing in the shadow of a giant metal shard dripping with blood, Nairore headed toward the light she saw in the distance. The closer she got to the light the more she heard it. A noise, a low rumbling that held familiarity. Closer and closer and she recognized it as a voice. A male voice. Closer yet and then she recognized it as Zenethil. She couldn't make out what he was saying. But there was an odd sensation inside of her, a giddiness. Zenethil was talking to her, which meant he was there beside her. He was there, waiting for her to wake up.

And then the whiteness became darkness again. Well it was more redness, light through her eyelids. Her hand was restrained, it felt like it was bound. So she was in trouble, bound to the bed and now, since she was awake, she'd be carted off to jail. Her other hand lay under the sheets, and she felt the chess piece Elohim had given her there, in her grasp. She let go of it, leaving it hidden under her sheets for now. She'd worry about that later. She tried to move that hand, but her arm was stiff, it didn't move right. She tried to lift it up, and it ended up jolting off to the side.

She tried to open up her eyes, but they were sealed shut with sleep. Nairore managed to find control of her arm and raised it up to wipe her eyes. It was a relief that she did, anyway, as when she opened them her arm shaded her eyes and kept her from being blinded momentarily. She blinked a few times, her multi-colored eyes adjusting to the sunlight that came in through the window. They turned and found Zenethil sitting beside her, holding onto her hand. Not bound, just . . . loved? After all she had said and done, after their last encounter, he was there. Unless he was there to cart her off himself.

Safe. He had said safe. She raised an eyebrow when she looked at him and cracked a smirk. "Don't smile like that," she said, her voice was dry and dusty and she coughed because of it. "It doesn't look right on you," she murmured, taking more care with her throat. She looked around for some water, as she was extremely thirsty, but her neck was remarkably stiff. She stretched and winced as her muscles groaned. "I don't . . . often see the Medicae from this angle," she added thoughtfully, as she'd never been wounded beyond Zenethil's healing.

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[Zenethil]

His heart swelled as she immediately made a light-hearted quip, causing him to smile a little more, ignoring her sarcasm, simply happy she was with the waking world once again. He squeezed her hand, blinking slowly. I'm afraid you will have to get used to it. I'm not the same man I once was. He smiled, stroking her hair gently, the lustrous red occupying most it's length. It was, in a stark and almost wild way, beautiful. His smile lessened slightly, as he thought of how he had covered this up, as well as repressed the startling shade of gold that brought so much life to her features. He watched as she strained to look for something, and he preempted her request, handing her a small flask of water, already opened, holding onto it gently so she didn't spill it.

He thought on this for a moment. If it wasn't for that fact that she was in such a weakened state, she would probably find this patronising, or insulting. As it was, she was still very much below her usually high physical standard. He allowed her to drink a small amount, enough to wet her lips, but not enough that it would cause her stomach pains. It was the urge of many recovering from unconsciousness to drink deeply. It was almost always a mistake. Don't strain yourself. As you say, this is a new angle for you to be in here. He actually laughed lightly, his tone almost teasing as he reiterated her point, odd sounds from his mouth, but strangely musical. It was the first time he had laughed for such a long time, he couldn't remember doing it before. Perhaps he hadn't.

His thumb rubbed gently on the back of her hand as he smiled down upon her, before setting the flask down on the table, comfortably in her reduced reach, before leaning back in his chair, breathing in, before sighing slightly. He sat for a few moments, unsure of what to say. Too much to put into words. He started with the simplest of statements. Something he should have said a long time ago. Something that if he had acted as he should have, would never have had to say. I'm sorry. For everything.

[Nairore]

x x

The water was refreshing on her parched throat, moist and cool, but as it hit Nairore's stomach it did nothing but enhance a feeling that was there waiting for her to find it. That same cold and empty feeling she had been feeling in her unconsciousness. It had not gone away with her rejoining the living, as it were, but was actually enhanced, swallowing. She felt hollow inside, as if there were still a hole through her stomach where Frostbite had stung her. Her hand instinctively fell to her stomach and she was relieved when it didn't fall right through.

The healers had done spectacular work, but as she moved her hand she noticed the silvery scar on her forearm. She knew what caused that, she remembered it all too well for such thoughtless moments. The memory sent a shiver through her body which only radiated moreso when it hit that hollow point in her stomach, sending a shiver back up through her. She didn't want to think about it, so she immediately shifted her thoughts again, back to Zenethil.

"A lot can happen in two months," she said in response to his change. She hadn't taken the time to notice it before, so on edge was she about getting that meeting over with. Another shudder, this one she was able to repress so it wasn't visible. The last thing she wanted was for Zenethil to question her about these things. She just wanted to blot that entire day out of her memory. Everything aside from one particular moment, just after Frostbite had bitten her.

That sheer hatred, that monster she had seen through Merik's eyes.

Her multi-colored eyes widened with shock as he apologized and the hints of a warm smile spread across her face. It was the closest thing she could manage to a smile in her current condition and a real shocker considering she didn't smile that much anyway. At least not before she had left. "There's no need to be sorry for what wasn't your fault. I was blinded and foolish, and that's all I want to say on the matter, so let's let it all drop here and now and move on with our lives, alright?" she said. Her own apology itched at the back of her throat, but for whatever reason didn't come out. Maybe she was just too stubborn to apologize.

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[Zenethil]

The look of shock, matched by the equally unusual hinting of a smile warmed Zenethil's heart, as much as it amused him. His smile returned for a moment, before turning serious. He said nothing on the matter, simply leaning over and kissing her tenderly on the forehead. There are only a few details I will want to know, and none of them personal. I can't pass up the chance to know how Merik fights. A slight smirk graced his lips, another strange gesture most though he was incapable of. He also reaslised that, unlike Nairore, Zenethil had been in the company of someone who actually opened his eyes, not simply changed the blindfold. He ran his hand across her forehead, brushing her hair from her face, still smiling almost beatifically down at her.

I missed you. I only realised once you left how comparatively lacking as a swordsman I am. It would have sounded like a joke if both he and his daughter didn't know how far she outstripped him as a melee combatant. Zenethil was capable enough to defend himself, but certainly not a master of the craft. The two were almost polar opposites in that respect. Nai incapable with magic, but a veritable whirlwind with a blade. Zenethil sorely lacking in true bladesmanship, but a magic user, almost without peer. Almost, because his sister and Zelda were at least as capable, if not more capable than he. His sister! Nairore didn't know! He smiled a little wider. While you were gone, I inherited a sister. And she's about as similar to me as a rock is to water.

The thought made him laugh again, thinking about how vivacious Evelynn was. How she had practically knocked him to the floor with a hug. How modest she was with her magic. How isolated her life had been. But also at how similar she was in some very key aspects. Not least, being monstrously tall, and ridiculously thin, enormously capable with magic, and as devout in her own way as he was. He smiled at Nairore, a sudden thought crossing his mind. I'll have to introduce you to your bubbly Aunt Evelynn. But not right now. She's a little over-bearing.

[Nairore]

x x

It was hard to believe this was the same Zenethil she knew and loved as a father. Kissing her on the forehead, smiling so frequently, there was even an odd giddiness in his eyes that was once buried beneath all of that strictness. Perhaps this was the real him finally released after she had called him out in their encounter? No, she wouldn't think about that. This was the same Zenethil, but his life had carried on just as hers had during the last two months. She couldn't expect him to sit around stagnant while she ran about the land.

But it wasn't what she wanted. It wasn't familiarity. She had left for two months and come back to a strange place. Lorina had changed, developed and grown as a woman, Zenethil was chirpy and smiling . . . and that was about all for her quaint circle of familiarity. There was nothing to grasp onto, just crushing emptiness as she felt all alone. Or was that merely the bite Merik's sword had left, a slow, seeping venom that would never let her feel whole again. Had that been his intention, or was that merely a side effect, one he didn't even know of.

Perhaps it was the feeling known as the one who got away.

She tried to focus on his words to fill in the gaps, to leave her internal strife for another time. "I imagine two months was enough time for the Knights to get lazy without me, too," she murmured with a grin as Zenethil expressed his distaste at her absence. It was good to know she had been missed, that hadn't exactly been part of their last discussion. Though she would have a lot of repairing to do among the Knights once the rumors of the encounter had gotten out. There had been several right there on scene.

"She's not my aunt, remember," Nairore commented dryly, "So don't expect me to automatically like her," she teased, though there was a seed of truth in her words. Nairore's social circle had always been remarkably limited. Lorina and Zenethil were the only people she truly cared about; Leon was a pest and Jacq had long since fell from her grace. This 'aunt' would probably fall right in there on the outer ring, where Leon and Jacq rested, where most people rested honestly. Nairore didn't open often, and she didn't feel like opening at all considering what became of the last person she had let in.

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[Zenethil]

Zenethil smirked lightly. She immediately jumped to conclusions as to exactly what he meant by his lack of swordsmanship. In fact, after she had left, everyone had been vying for the vaunted position of 'resident blademaster'. None had truly been successful, but he suspected it was to put forward someone to at least contend with Nairore. Alicia, naturally, had distanced herself from it. To her benefit, as a matter of fact. He shook his head. Actually, I picked up on the discipline. And I think they wanted to prove themselves without you there to put them back down again. Opportunism being what it is. None succeeded. His smirk widened a little, before he retracted his hand, sitting back in his seat at the side of her, eyes never leaving hers. He felt pangs of guilt slice through him. Inadvertently, he had caused this. He had underestimated Merik. Considerably. Something he never intended to do again.

His eyebrow quirked as she made reference to her not being his daughter. That hurt a little. Daughter by blood she may not be, but by bond, almost definitely. Naturally, their set to had resulted in magical explosions and stabs to the stomach. But that was what came of such men as Merik meddling in the affairs of others. He frowned a little as she teasingly prodded him. I would never expect you to automatically like anyone. And she may not be your aunt by blood, but that should not mean anything. His face was set back into his more customary grimace of general displeasure. His elation at her awakening was still there, but it was now tempered by her words and general demeanour. He supposed it was partially her wounds. And partially his part in it all. Not that she was entirely innocent herself.

He looked at her again. He thought on what he had dwelt on for the past few days she had been unconscious. His gaze intensified, contemplating how best to phrase it. I've been giving something a lot of thought. Concerning you. It's possibly been long overdue, but the recent events have thrown it into a much sharper light. He paused. A long one. He wanted to gauge Nai's reaction before he let her hear what he planned.

[Nairore]

x x

It was good to hear she had left a gap in her absence that hadn't been filled. Nairore dreaded the thought of returning to the Knights, if Zenethil even let her, though his words hinted toward it. She had first hand experience with Merik Dragmire, she knew how he fought and she knew him better than anyone else would. It was a tactical advantage Zenethil would be foolish to let slip away. At least that's what Nairore figured. The fact was she didn't know Merik half as well as she had thought she did. The memory of the hatred that had radiated from him was proof of that. She hadn't even considered him to have a side like that.

It sent a shudder down her spine. She swallowed it and fought down all reactions it might trigger with that cold and empty pit in her stomach. There was no need to think about it. Multi-colored eyes watched Zenethil and she felt a pang of guilt as his smile faded away at her words. She had said the wrong thing. Their fight must've left the relationship between them still tender, at least for Zenethil. Nairore refused to even think about that day beyond what she had to. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," she said, though the fact was blood bonds were a bit touchy, considering the fact that she had slept with Lorina the night before the big day.

Nairore wondered how Lorina had taken to everything. The poor girl had already had her life rocked once, and here was Nairore throwing around fire when she had just settled down again. She wondered if Lori had even been to visit her while she was here in the Medicae, though she suspected the hybrid girl hadn't. Nairore wouldn't, if she was in Lori's place. All of a sudden everything was solemn again and there were no smiles. It was like it was back to normal, before she had even left when Zenethil was steely and Nairore had rarely cracked a grin, let alone smiled.

Of course things couldn't just go back to normal after all that. Zenethil's next words triggered a surprising reaction in Nairore, instead of feelings of dread (she was still feeling quite safe as a tactical advantage Zenethil shouldn't pass up) she could only smirk and say dryly, "By the Goddesses, I'm not getting a mother now, too, am I?" If she had been able to catch herself she would have, since the familial relationships was a touchy subject, but the comment had slipped right past her while she was distracted in her own self-pity. Note to self: less self-pity, more guard.

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[Zenethil]

An apology. From Nairore? Surely not... It brought a very small smile to his lips. It did mean something to him, being as the two had been at each other's throats only a few days before. Enemies, dead set against each other. It amazed him how quickly events could shape perceptions and feelings towards each other. Particularly such sharp and powerful events. Like stabbing your mortal enemy in the throat. His smile broadened a little at her dry quip, snorting lightly at the thought. Ruefully he might add. Myrna had... Complicated things on that front. No, no, I meant directly concerning you. He inhaled deeply, before exhaling. I want you to hear me out, because it concerns your actions on our last... Meeting...

He paused for a moment, thinking of how to phrase his fairly startling and enormously controversial decision. I don't know what went through your mind on that day. And, despite your actions, I cannot entirely forgive you for it. Nor do I expect you to forgive me for all I have done. Again, he inhaled, breathing out slowly. But, on that day, above all, you committed to duty. You chose to resist that which Merik offered. You forsook him for something else. Something far greater than I, or he, or anyone, save the Goddesses. An act of utter selflessness. Your decision alone. He paused again, hoping he was conveying hints towards his intent.

He looked at Nairore with great intent. Such an act has led me to... Break with tradition. Enormously. Such acts cannot go unrewarded. I wish to request your pledge into service as a Hylian Knight. He paused again, holding a hand up to keep her silent for but a few moments longer. And considering your training, and previous services, and also the momentous nature of your act, I am putting you in for commission, as our second Lieutenant.

[Nairore]

x x

Nairore had had a few days of reflection to consider everything. Not the events that had happened, but rather her position with Zenethil. It was amazing how lucid unconsciousness became when combined with mental and emotional trauma and a visit from the lord of the dead. Honestly Nairore didn't know which one of those things to thank for the lucidity, but it had allowed her to considering everything she had accused Zenethil of and all his retaliation and see just how blind she had been to everything. The real problem was Merik hadn't even tried to blindfold her to Zenethil, so she had to wonder where her foolishness had come from.

Honestly Nairore hadn't known what to expect from Zenethil, but when he said he couldn't forgive her fully for what had transpired it did sting. Not that she couldn't understand his position. She had been mindless, blind and foolish and no doubt things she had said would stick and anger her father even if she said she was sorry. Apologies only went so far. Nairore was still reeling from the loss of Naurlambe at Zenethil's hands, and her shoulder was still stiff from the loss as well. She considered, as well, what exactly she had forsaken when she turned on Merik.

A life as a mother of children who would have no father?

Her thoughts were thrown aside when she heard Zenethil's final words before he paused. A Hylian Knight? She was to actually become part of the Knights? Her eyes shot open wide as the words sank in, and then Zenethil added a cherry on top. Not just any Knight, either, a Lieutenant. "You're shitting me," she said, not able to even consider what to say as she sat bolt upright, and promptly keeled over as pain wracked through her stemming from her chest. The sudden movement had irritated something that was still recovering.

She started coughing harshly, and the sheets of her bed were littered with flecks of blood from the cough. She managed to catch her breath after a moment and settle back down against her pillow. "Couldn't you have lashed me down before the big announcement?" she said, her throat dry and her voice raspy as she reached for the water and took a long swallow followed by a few deep breaths to bring her back to normal. "Second Lieutenant?" she asked with a quirk of her brow. She'd been gone for two months, no doubt things had changed, but she hadn't expected Zenethil to finally find a Lieutenant in that time.

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[Zenethil]

Perhaps a little more gently would have been in order? He watched, first with slight amusement to her initial reaction, then with concern as she spluttered blood everywhere. He leaned forward, as she recovered, his hand just above her chest, gold light pouring from him, repairing the damage, before raising an eyebrow at her. Since when have you ever wished to be tied down for any reason? It would also be quite a thing to explain to you when you awoke. Despite the bloody episode she'd just gone through, a smile was back on his face, before nodding. Yes, second Lieutenant. No doubt you'll become acquainted. And surprisingly, you'll like who I chose.

He paused, before again, raising his hand to cut of any possible objections. Her immediate thought, he reckoned, would be that of one of the older sergeants. Truth be told, if he had told himself he would have picked Alicia, he would have said he was lying, if he hadn't known full well how capable she was. He stressed the first word. She, is a very stoic and capable individual. If a little fresh to leadership. But it makes a change from the stuffiness of leaders past. And concerning me, present. He smiled again, trying to lighten the atmosphere somewhat, before brushing her hair out of her face. Something struck him. Her hair looked far more vibrant now than it did before. The natural reddish hue was beautiful on her.

I think I may have been hasty in prohibiting your natural hair colour. And your eyes too. I can have the enchantment lifted entirely if you wish? He was being serious. He wanted to make amends for all the suppression and stigmatisation of her more unusual attributes. No. Not unusual. Just Gerudo. He still hated the Gerudo. Utterly. But, he realised that what he hated was not the race, in biological terms. He hated them as a people. As a nation. And Nairore was not part of that nation. She had rejected it. Utterly.