Spirits of the Earth

OOC: This is an open by requests thread! It is a civil war thread, so if you have any questions, let me know but you should try to familiarize yourself a little bit before inquiring to join this thread :D
Should be fun! Leif is a moody one :D Then again- this thread is where he officially becomes a Duke :O
Please PM me with your interest! (I'd prefer a female character to be tossed into this thread, thanks :D )

Thread partner found- thanks @Draconian  :D

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Over eight damn years this war had gone on, and for what? The endless sea of graves at the New Reajh cemetery only symbolizes the piss poor response to the mage 'rebellion' by the currently 'losing favor' Grand Duke Allarrick. He never liked the Grand Duke, nor politics. In fact, his own father was on the top of his list of those he hated. And though his father, Duke Remmis Arrant, tried diligently to groom his son in his own image-

Leif was his own man, and could not, would not be tamed. Though some could whisper other wise, for when he had married, he had seemed to calm down- albeit briefly. Shortly after his wife was said to be with child, she had been taken- and the years that followed were the most torturous imaginable. He didn't want to give up- to presume his wife had been slain, but the trail of who had taken her, and why, had long turned cold.

And now he found himself staring down the barrel of another plight, for all around the Duchy of Castavar black flags were raised in mourning; for just that morning, Duke Remmis Arrant had passed away. He had complications for years involving his heart, and it seemed his finally gave out. The death, all would know, had been a painful one until the man finally faded away into his death bed.

Leif only watched to ensure the death was real. The whole scenario was surreal, like some sort of twisted nightmare. Sure, he had always wished for his father's demise, but for him to simply die from his own ails? He supposed the death was fitting enough. But he hadn't sobered yet to the fact his father would never return to his life, and his mother- even a silent figure int he background, seemed to remain as such, even as she sat beside her husband's still form.

Rights were written, rights were read; and the ceremony was prompted for the family's new head. It wasn't that he was surprised at all the land fell to bloodline, for he was the only son of the Duke, an heir all his life-
But now?

"Duke Arrant?"

The very words made him freeze in his chair, and dark green eyes cut across the room. Duke Arrant.... How terribly ironic he would actually take the throne-
and he had done so willingly. The crowning ceremony was brief at best, happening just a week after his father had been taken into the family crypt, but even as the week's went on, and Castavar was temporarily a mute from the war, all eyes began to turn in his direction- To see just what the notoriously moody and back talking 'son of a duke' would do now that he was the Duke himself.

It was a light rain and the day was dreary but the news was good when Fred - Doctor Savage - finally left the modest house. The parents waited at the door, a lovely short blonde woman with her stocky blonde husband. "Thank you. Thank you so much," The mother took one of his hands, gave it a squeeze and Fred just smiled and looked down at them, tossing his hair to the side and putting his hat on.

"Well, It wouldn't do well to have your little one being sick hmm? She'd miss all those lessons." It was a frantic message, the boy had been red faced and out of breath and Fred had barely had enough time to throw on pants and a housecoat. It was an emergency. What had been a simple cold had turned worse and please, doctor, please come help. Fred had a quiet reputation, but among those that knew it, it was good. Ansgar blessed, they said, he could make anyone better. Slowly but surely, they would get better.

It was just after dawn now, Fred looked tired but immaculate. The suit he wore was wrinkle free except for the sleeves which were still bunched up around his elbows.

Time to go home.

And then start the day.

"Ah, yes," He continued, crouching down on one knee to open the carrybag, pulling out a pouch, "Make sure she drinks this tea in the morning after she's eaten something. Make sure she does eat. Her throat may be sore but she needs to get plenty of food and water." Fred gave the fathers hand a shake before he tipped his hat and was on his way. Once he was out of eye sight he pressed a hand to his chest and let out a sigh of relief. It had been a close one. Pneumonia. Sometimes Fred worried that, if he hadn't been a mage, would he be able to save so many people?

Did it matter? Rolling his shoulder he decided that, even if he got caught for being a magic user - one of Fred's many secrets - it would be worth it. All the people he's helped. The price for using magic - even slightly, even to save the life of a little girl - was surely worth it. It would be another day full of bumps and scrapes. Another day of subtle healing. Another day that his sister wasn't home.

Fred frowned deeply, remembering the note. The one that mentioned where Medina was, the child was healthy. No mention of when Medina and her child would come home. No mention of anything else. Nothing. Fred finally got to his home - which doubled as his office for general doctor-y things. Stretching. Making some tea. Fred sat in his office after unlocking the door for potential patients drank his tea and read a mystery novel from Adela.

Another day.

Same as every other day.

He hated to admit it but keeping relations with the crown was the only thing he could do at the moment. The duchy of Turgall to the North, was already rebelling and though tempted to with draw his own men, he knew Castavar was only severely hampered by the war. So many of his men were recruited into the army already, and trying to call them back home he knew would do little.

However, some child was born- some proud propaganda the Grand Duke was using to let everyone know this country, and war, was blessed by Ansgar. It was the biggest crock of bull shit he'd ever heard. None the less, he'd kiss ass to get close enough to Grand Duke Allarrick-

After all, most presumed his alter ego was well gone and dead. The masked mordecai hadn't shown his face in over a year....
Though as he entered into the capital, he found himself looking around, recalling all he had done here- and how it seemed, no matter what actions he had taken-
Reajh still looked the same. And it seemed city guards were in no short supply.

"Hurry will you?" he told his carriage driver before sitting back further into his bench. The driver nodded.

"Very well, my Duke." It wouldn't do well for him to be late. Turning the bend at their new, brisk speed had them jerking to a halt and the duke had to catch himself so he didn't crash to the floor. He glared back towards the driver.

"What is the meaning of this?"

But then he heard someone crying-
a child, and he was soon leaping out of his carriage.

A woman was on her knees, weeping as she cradled her baby. Apparently the carriage had nearly knocked into her, but made her trip in order to get out of it's way- and she landed on her baby, who was now bleeding and wailing.

Leif Arrant pulled out his kerchief, rushing to the woman and pressing the cloth to the child's head. He looked up at her, then around to those looking.

"A doctor! Is there a doctor's place nearby?"

And soon his foot was kicking open the door to Doctor Savage's office.

"We need a doctor- and we need one now!" his words boomed, as he stood at the door, a dark and imposing figure against the grey world outside.

Fred had fallen asleep.

Book on his chest, feet propped up on his desk and at the sound of the door being booted open - which was much different from turning the knob and opening the door - had Fred kick back a little too hard and fall off his chair. Scrambling to stand up, Fred rushed from the room, rubbing his eyes, hair tousled and he just stared for a moment.

Then he saw it.

The baby. The blood. The crying woman.

Of course he saw it all passed the stranger in his doorway, to which Fred promptly ignored and reached out.

Scooping the wailing baby into his arms, Fred took off at a brisk pace to the examination room, quickly placing the child down and gathering supplies before examining the wound. There was a lot of blood as head wounds were want to do but it was a small cut and Fred rubbed at the babies belly and spoke calmly. Some pressure to the scrape and he pressed some cloth, the slightest of frowns when the blood soaked through a little more than usual.

Fred realized then, the little spark. The little bit of warmth in his gut. It wasn't there. Which meant someone close by was a mordecai. Without missing a beat Fred stopped the blood, patched up the wound and picked the baby up, teary eyed and red faced but no longer crying. "That's a strong one, hmm?" He murmured, voice soft before he looked to the babies parents - because surely that frantic man was the childs father - and smiled.

"Your child is fine. Keep an eye on his sleep - The fact he was wailing is good." Fred smiled and held the baby out to the mother, who quickly grew fussy but once recognized that the scent and warmth was from mommy and not strange man quickly quieted down "It shouldn't be more than a scratch, come by tomorrow and I'll check on it to see how it's doing."

"Head wounds bleed a fair amount," Fred started to explain to the man, offering a smile, "but it's good you got your son here so quickly. Ah! I'm Doctor Savage, Fred Savage," He held out his hand in greeting, "May I ask what happened?"

Leif bristled at the introduction, ignoring the extended hand as briskly told him, "The child is not mine." His eyes went to the woman. "But I am to blame for the unfortunate occurrence." He nodded back to Fred and went on, pulling out something from his breast pocket.

"How much do I owe you for your time?"
Clearly he wouldn't let the mother pay for this. And he was elated the child was alright. It was the only thing keeping him calm in the face of his own wife and child's death-
one that was just too fresh and deep within his own mind.

Fred shook his head and put his hands back down, "I..." Must be new. "It's by donation. I'm no noble but we're well off enough if you can't pay." He nodded to whatever the fellow had in his hand, "perhaps the lovely lady would appreciate that." Fred smiled to the mother, who smiled back and blushed prettily. As odd as it was, Fred kept his image in tact by making ladies blush.

"Was that everything? I can escort you to the sitting room if you two need to talk about what happened." That way, Fred could get back to his book and finish off his tea. Which would be cold by now. Yuck.

He shoved a fistful of gold coins into Fred's hand.
"That should suffice for a donation."

Surprise on his face, "I didn't mean to offend you by turning away your payment." But what was he going to do with a fistful of money? "Uh... Thank you.  Kindly." Fred smiled, looked between the two, eyebrows up, "well? Do you need to talk? I can't leave you in here. There are things that you're not allowed to touch." A pleasant smile  and he pushed a hand through his hair and awkwardly held the coins in the other.

Leif frowned and turned to the woman.
"No. Her child is well. And I am due elsewhere." And he didn't say much more, bowing to the woman, apologizing again before taking his leave, returning to his carriage, and making his way towards the great palace.

However, he had his driver stop just inside the gates, as he peered up in awe at the spectacle that was the new church erected in Grand Duke Allarrick's name. And he felt a lump form in his belly, one that was simmering into a brew of venomous fire.

He wasn't sure he wanted to even see the Grand Duke now. For if he did-
He'd surely punch him in his face.

What a dick.

Fred could smell the money and it wasn't from the handful of it. Wrinkling his nose slightly he turned to the woman and escorted her from the room. The day went on as it should. Fred wrote the woman a bank note for the amount of gold that had been shoved into his hand, gave her some tea.

The day went on as normal after that. A child with the flu. A fever.

Normal.

Still no Medina.

Still no word on her child.

Were there any commotions in regards to Duke Arrant's presence at the palace, there was no whisper of it on the streets. There was, however, some gossip about him staying as a guest within the palace itself. The talk of the Duke was not done so kindly, and those who favored the Grand Duke's side, began to wonder how desperate he must be to be trying to 'please' this spoiled rotten and most uncivilized of Dukes.

The former Duke of Castavar was known and liked throughout the capital, having easier relations than his son had ever voiced. In fact, many were a bit surprised new Duke of Castavar even bothered with the capital of all- assuming he'd lead his poor duchy into poverty and ruin.

So far, none such things had occurred, but gossip was gossip- and people would say what was ever most pleasing to them.

Fred stared at the glass. It was well into the night and Fred was seven sorts of tired. The amber liquid sitting around the ice cubes. Fred rarely used his magic for leisurely pleasures but a glass of whiskey was hardly a leasurely when his sister was still missing.  A walk.

Frustrated, Fred tossed the empty glass at the wall, shrugged on his coat and left his home. A walk. Sure it was cloudy out and probably going to rain. A walk would be good. Clear his head. Sister was safe. Right? Right. Fred sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. She would be fine.

Perhaps his sister was safe, and perhaps Leif Arrant hadn't cared. Making small talk to secure any relations with the Grand Duke gave him an itch he couldn't scratch. He always seemed to have a chip on his shoulder, one eye on his back; but he did as well as he could in the situation, sipping tea and brandy in the Grand Duke's social wing.

He was surprised a child was presented to him that was not the Grand Duke's own, but one glorified due to it's location of birth. Though not moved at all by the circumstance, it did remind him of his own loss and further seeded the depression looming within. He was always a hateful man, with a hateful face and words, but he was not a man to ever know how to profess other such emotions. Even his own happiness, love, had taken him many years to confess to his wife whom he now mourns in her loss. Who knew his own callous tongue would have doomed his wife. Surely, he would have not thought anyone so ignorant as to go after the wife of a presumably loveless man, but it hit him harder than anything he could have imagined. To lose her-
and his son.


It was perhaps this reason his own emotions had been held back too long that he decided to dawn his mask once again, and prowl the streets of Reajh that night.

Black as the darkness, cold as the wind, Leif Arrant traveled outside the Grand Duke's castle (which he had been such a 'welcomed' guest) and flocked out into the night. And the night was quiet- too quiet for his own liking. It seemed no matter which way he turned, the roads were vacant. Had this much really changed since his last appearance as the Masked Mordecai? Surely with the war wavering in it's current position, those suppressed would be more apt to act. But then again... as he observed through one man's window...

Many had families to protect. And had he been a smarter, better man....
He would be at home with his.

Fools would always be fools, and idiots, idiots, damned men- damned; so instead of finding a fight he himself could disrupt- he figured he might as well make a fight of his own. But just as he was about to turn back around, he noticed an orange light looming near the river. A fire?

No...
The night was so still he could hear the cries and calls of the damned.
There were people awake-
and some of them were burning.


Swiftly through the streets he moved, heart pounding like a horse's hooves. It carried him fast and well to the scene that soon overwhelmed him, for there before him was a woman- now completely lost to the fire, but being ridiculed still by the men who had condemned her. A gloved hand reached for his sword. Where were the guards to stop such madness? Of course, not a one was near.

Although the woman's life was already compromised, it did not mean he couldn't have these men atone for their crimes-
One life for another-
Death was never pretty, and the men's corpses could attest to that. But they weren't so easy to take down. Some were veteran's having come home after serving decades in the war. And the situation was brutal, he was out numbered and soon he found himself, bleeding and running for his life.....

And as he ran, he wondered if it mattered that he lived. He hadn't anything to go back to, any reason to live-
Except he wasn't about to let those men of the damned spill enough of his blood to kill him off too. He couldn't allow them the pleasure. So like a cat in the night, he soared through the streets before he lost the herd of them. And there, beneath the stars, he slouched against an unknown building, clutching at a gush on his side and feeling the blood still sticky and hot.

And he felt choked in that moment, his masked persona and the loss of blood stifling. He saw a well, stumbled towards it and used whatever strength was left to heft the bucket up to his lips before taking great big gulps of it and collapsing beside the well, and went still.

Fred had always had a sense of 'someone needs help.' Some primal feeling in his gut. His mother always called it a 'woman's intuition,' but as Fred wasn't a woman that just served to make him angry. Tonight though, the strange uneasy feeling was in his gut and it wasn't from the Whiskey. The burning in his belly was from that but not... Fred rubbed his fingertips together, frowning at the feeling of nothing in his gut and he followed the slightly off noises. The things that weren't quite right.

Fred chewed on his lower lip, frowning at nothing in particular before he rounded a corner.

Ah, that would make sense.

A quick glance around, frowning at the blood on the ground and clearly on fabric.

"Hey," Fred started, moving over quickly, kneeling and pressing fingers to flesh to look for a heartbeat. Not dead. Barely alive. A quick assessment and he sighed and rolled his shoulders, he wasn't as broad as Connlaothian men but he could chuck a hay bale as good as the rest of them. It was an emergency and Fred cast another glance around before he decided the wound wouldn't be getting at worse and he knelt down and hefted him over his shoulder, knees bending for a moment before Fred got used to the weight.

The man looked a little waify but apparently he was made of stone. With a grunt he stood up, red faced and clearly uncomfortable, but doing his best to remain quiet. It was a struggle and he could feel the blood seeping down his arm, ruining a perfectly good shirt. A hiss and Fred cursed his innate goodness. The fact mordecai were around which would make this a little more difficult also irritated him.

His home and clinic were in sight and Fred heaved a sigh of relief, feeling his forehead bead with sweat and he shouldered the door open, the loud bonk making him wince because he knew he'd accidentally hit the poor man in the head. Hunted down by Mordecai, bleeding and now whacked in the head. At least it wouldn't be that bad.

It was easy from then on. Onto one of the tables in the examination room, the tools set up, Fred's jacket removed and his sleeves slid up and he removed most of the mans clothing save for his pants and his mask.

Weirdo.

Why would you wear a mask? Wearing a mask is just asking for a problem but - oh well - the sooner he patched up Masked Friend the better. Working quickly, he stopped the bleeding - irritated with how much longer everything took when it wasn't aided by his little spells. The guy was out cold  - for how long, Fred wouldn't be sure - but he worked quickly to clean and close the wound, getting his hands bloody and slippery in the process.  Humming the lullaby his sister would sing all the time in an alarmingly feminine voice tone while he worked.

The prodding at his wound was what woke him up the most, for in his darkness he felt the burning jab at him over and over again, as if the wound were reawakening and threatening to consume his life. Even the fire in the dark laughed at his name, and suddenly the masked, shirtless man sat up with a start, and blindly threw a hand out to grip at the man's throat who hoovered over him now, tending to his wounds.

"Tell me what the hell you are doing," came his commanding voice, full of ice, and promise of a swift death upon the wrong answer.

Freds golden eyes went wide and he reeled back, not in time and the cold fingers around his throat had him suck in a breath of air. "I'm humming a lullaby," Fred replied in a gentle soothing voice. Rather an attempt at a soothing voice, "you should be careful. You'll rip your sitches."

Fred didn't pull back or resist the grip on his throat and just watched the masked man with a calm levek look.

"Stitches!?" his eyes dropped down to his belly before he looked up at the doctor with a sneer. "What have you done to me?" And he eased his grip, just enough to allow an easier time for the man to breath.

"More like what did you do to yourself." Fred quipped, face having gone red from the lack of oxygen which he greedily sucked in when the grip loosened. "I could take them out and send you on your way if you prefer that."

Leif's eyes narrowed, but he wasn't ignoring to his state of dress- nor his mask, that still remained.
"What do you know?" he wasn't about to let his grip drop. His life was in bigger danger than the little patched up wound on his belly if someone actually knew his real identity. And though he didn't outright know this person...
There was something familiar about him. And he hated he didn't know why.

"Know? I know your ass is heavier than it looks. I think you threw out my back." Fred swallowed carefully, worried that the strange feel too much of his neck. Or what was missing. Taking a deep breath Fred frowned, "I don't know anything. I don't want to get involved in your shit, i just couldn't watch someone die."

It was then it began to come back to him.
"You're a doctor." At that, he released his hold on him, but not his glare.

"And you're a vigilante," Fred smiled, moving a hand to rub at his neck while taking deep steady breaths. "I'm not going to take off your mask," His eyes flickered to the mask, a brief moment of eye contact that lasted a moment too long - it meant he was trying to remember if he'd ever seen those eyes before.

"Are you a mage?" A careful question and he looked up and down the vigilante, frowning a little.

He could have laughed, but instead, his gaze went harder.
"Have you been living in a box the last few years here?"
His alter ego, The Masked Mordecai had gained enough fame even the peasants knew of him. However, it had been some time since his last nightly rendez-vous in the city.

"Yes. My life is in the room and I'd like to keep it that way," Fred had found that by not knowing more than he needed to it kept him safe. If no one suspected him of being a mage and instead just a very good doctor. A frown at the mask and Fred looked at the freshly sewed up wound at the mans abdomen before he licked his teeth behind his lips.

"Mask seems familiar, or at least the idea of it." Fred never forgot a patient - at least not one with more to offer than a cold. " Tell me then, vigilante, who are you? Perhaps it would ring some bells." Though now he had an idea - an enthusiastic little girl had told Doctor Pretty-Man about a masked man that had saved her from some tracking hounds once. A little mage girl. Fred gnawed on his lip for a moment before remembering that wasn't the most manly thing to be doing. Even if stressed.

"You're a doctor, not a shut in." He wouldn't buy the ignorance as far as he could throw this prissy boy.

"I am a shut in, mostly." A tilt of his head and he smiled, "By choice. Keeps me safe if no one suspects me doesnt it? I don't turn anyone away as you can clearly see," Fred nodded towards the mans torso before he rolled his shoulders. "It may look bad to the law, I'd hate for these people to lose a doctor before I'm suspected of mage craft."

"With how the Grand Duke is running things, everyone is suspected of being a mage," the masked man went on, bitterly.

A moment to pause and Freds fingers started to tingle, always one with warm hands - they soothed better than cold ones - he was shocked to find them cold. "Cant suspect what you don't remember exists," He flashed a small smile and rubbed his hands together, another frown, "Ah... I think I remember. Masked..." Then it hit him, "Mordecai." He swallowed and rubbed his chest with his palm, "You're the mordecai."

Fred visibly relaxed and tried to smile, "Well thank goodness for that."

Although the man seemed to relax, Leif did not, and he was still glaring at him.
"So you're a doctor who takes no side in the war." He gave a sniff, but it wasn't a discouraging notion. Were he not in such a predicament.... No, he'd still act just as guarded- and just as mean.

"I suppose I should thank you for stitching me up."

It was comforting to know that the mordecai was this one right here instead of one lurking in the shadows outside the room. Fred rolled his shoulders.

"I'm on a side. I'm on my sisters side. No other side matters," a little frown and he sighed and Fred smiled slightly at the grumpy man.

"No thanks needed, its not like I gave you a choice. I'm sure my slinging you over my shoulder didn't help." A look around the room and he frowned, "Downside of helping mordecai. That will take a normal amount of time to heal," He looked at the wound again and blew out a breath, "I like to check back on my patients. Can you come back in a few days and I can look at it? You can wear your mask."

Leif stared at the man good and hard before deducing, "You are a mage." A statement rather than a question.

Fred stared back, frowning. "I'm a doctor," it was a cool correction though he tried go make himself look bigger, shoulders back and looking a little pale. Weary. There was no denial. Fred was a mage. As was his twin. The masked man didnt need to know anything about that though.

"A doctor who conveniently heals. Guess you didn't think you'd be helping a mordecai."

Fred smiled, "I don't use magic when I help people. I put it in the bandages. The thread when I stitch," His voice turned gentle and he looked at the wound, "It speeds up the healing process a little. Helps keep infection away." A small shrug, "my father was a doctor. It's just that the circumstance of my birth has helped me be... More capable." He rolled his shoulders and smiled, "I'm more than capable of helping you, as you clearly see." He nodded towards the stitched wound, "You'll have to come back in a few days anyway, for me to take the stitches out."

"I can remove my own stitches. There needn't be a second reunion."

Fred looked hesitant. Concerned, still. This man was a vigilante and Fred didn't really want anything to do with him. "Very well, be careful, the wound was deep. Try not to move around too much or you could tear them and then everyone would wonder why a gentleman would be bleeding from the gut." A smirk, "Assuming you take the mask off."

He frowned, still glaring at him.
"And assuming I'm a gentleman."

Fred smiled and moved to a basin of clean water before he grabbed a cloth and began to wash the masked mans blood from his hands. "Fine. Someone would notice someone else bleeding from the gut. Even if that someone was a cad." Fred smiled pleasantly and dried off his hands, " though if you do need patching up again - i may be able to provide you help should you come to me - cant say ive ever turned anyone away."

"You're quick to presume I'd look for help," Leif replied, still guarded.

Fred gave him an odd look, "I carried you here, bleeding from the gut. You've ruined a shirt with your blood and I'm trying to be nice. I didn't even remove your mask." Folding his arms over his chest he leaned against a cabinet filled with clean linens.

"I want to assume the best of people," Fred started giving the Masked Man a frown, "I want to assume that - should you be injured - instead of using a sewing needle and some string from your pants you'd come to me for help because I offered to provide it. I don't expect you to - don't really want you to. I'm offering if you have need of my services." Fred pushed his hands through his short hair, causing it to stand on end in his irritation.

The hour was late and Fred yawned widely, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You'll forgive me if I decline, and you ought to retract the offer. If anyone were to know of your affiliation.... well, you might as well just declare your a mage who murdered the Grand Duke and are plotting against the new one now."

Fred shrugged, "My sister is in that palace. I'm walking on broken glass already, what's a few more shards?"

"Your sister?" he looked the man over. "A maid?"

"No. Not a maid," Fred shrugged, "She went to the church. From what I've heard she had her child and now she's... "Fred shrugged again, "Trapped in the palace. I got a note. A very curt to the point note that she didn't write." A little smile and another shrug, "I'm waiting for her body to show up at my door."

At this he perked up.
"Your sister mothered the child of Hope?"

Fred frowned ever so slightly, "So I've heard. I haven't met her child." Another look, "Why? Are you going to drop her dead body at my door?"

At that, the masked man glared at him.
"I'm a vigilante, not a murderer. Your sister, as far as I know, is just some symbol, a pawn to the Grand Duke whose scraping at the dirt in order to find any worms to rally his chickens behind him."

Fred wilted just a little bit.

Of course he knew the Grand Duke was a monster.

It was another thing to use your own child as a pawn. Another thing entirely to...

"Medina doesn't even..." Frowning deeply, "I need to get her away from him. Her and her child." A glance to the vigilante, "How much do you charge?"

If his face wasn't already scowling, he would be doing it now.
"I don't charge," he growled.

Fred pushed his hands through his hair and let his head dip back, eyes closed.

"I..." Another gentle shake of his head, "Right. Vigilante. Nevermind. It's not your problem. I'm sure if Medina wanted to come home she'd do it. She's..." Fred licked his lips and rubbed at his shoulders, "Nevermind." folding his arms over his chest he leaned against a wall and shook his head, "Do you feel okay? Light headed? Dizzy?"

The masked man glared at him.
"I feel annoyed." It was time to be rid of this place, so he moved to stand, but the suddenness of his actions rushed to his head, and he found himself suddenly losing his footing- and toppling over towards the doctor.

"Careful!"

Fred was quick to move, curling his arms around his waist, their chests pressing together before Fred shifted to the side and moved a hand to his shoulder to support the Masked man.. "You can feel as annoyed as you like, but I am a doctor and I would prefer you not hit your head while you're here. Dizzy? Nauseous?"

He glared through his masked and shoved the man away. He was able to support himself, but it was evident he did not appreciate the close contact. After a moment, he looked towards the doctor again.

"I'll be fine. Blood loss can do that to a man."
He hated looking so weak.

Fred fought the urge to groan, but he did let himself get pushed away.

Fred wasn't a fighter.

And while he was tall, he didn't have the most masculine of features. Or particularly burly arms. Fred frowned at the man, "Yes. Congratulations, you learned something by almost falling on your face. Do you want some tea and a cookie?"

And that's when there was a sudden fierce knocking at the door.

"Open up! It's the City Guard!"

Leif swore and looked to the lit candle, then down to his own injured form before limping towards a corner, eyes searching frantically for a place to hide.

Fred jerked at the knocking and frowned, grabbing the candlestick and looking to the Masked man before shaking his head. Knew it. He just knew it. Fred unbuttoned his coat and mussed up his hair, gave a quick look to his cleaned hands before he pulled his sleeves down carefully. 

Letting the Masked man find his own hiding place - though Fred was sure he'd probably sneak through the house and hide under a bed.

Finally, candle in hand and looking appropriately tired and mussed he frowned at the guards, "Can I help you?" He grumbled out, sounding sleepy and like he'd just be roused from a nice nap on a desk.

"Sorry to disturb you, but we're in pursuit of a man. Wearing all black, has a mask... And was injured. We saw blood in the alley close by and are checking all the homes in this vicinity. We need to do a search of your home." And it didn't sound like an inquiry so much as a command.

Fred paled slightly - which was hard to detect on his dusky tanned skin but he gave a tired shrug and pulled his coat around himself tighter. As much as Fred wanted to tell them to piss off, he knew that would get him a broken jaw and his house searched anyway.

A few steps away from the door and he held it open, "Careful please, I need to keep this area clean for patients and i would prefer not to waste my morning cleaning up mud you've tracked in when I could attend to sick children."

If the city guards were hesitant, they showed little of it. They made their way through his house, up the stairs, down the stairs, searching in closets and under the bed. Soon they came back to the door and bowed rigidly to Fred.

"Seems all clear. Just be wary. The masked man is armed and dangerous. I wouldn't put it past him to harm yourself, or even any women or children who are in your care."

Armed?

Fred thought for a moment, not recalling any weapons. Dangerous he would believe but... Oh well. It was too late now. Fred licked his lips and gave a  tired nod to guards as they left his house and he kept in his sigh of relief until the door closed and he was a few steps away from the door.

Must have jumped out a window or something.

Fred didn't care because now he was tired and he went to his bedroom, toed his shoes off and began to unbutton the wrinkled shirt with every intention of falling into bed.

He had been correct in his assumption. The window was a good place to go, but instead of going down, the masked man went up and found himself leaning back on the tiled roof and breathing heavily while staring up at the stars.

Fred wrinkled his nose at the breathing noise but decided that the masked man was grown. If he needed help again he'd come to him. So, Fred made sure the door and window were closed. Curtain drawn, before he removed his clothing and the chest wrap that kept his breasts from being pronounced while he was disguised as a man.

Pulling on a thick shirt and loose pants her sister had made her, Winifred went to sleep. Falling easily into slumber - too exhausted mentally and physically to pay any mind to the events that happened previous. The man would be fine. he was stitched up and if he wanted to tear out the stitches that wasn't her fault.

THe night eventually got too cold. And by then, he figured the guards would be long gone. Slowly, he made his way down- an dpaused to realize...
He gave the window a shake.
"Is this locked?"
And he tried to peer inside to see if the doctor was still awake.

The name sort of filtered into Freds head and he stretched in his sheets and curled up into a ball.

"S'open," Fred called, dreaming about some delivery or another.

Not hearing it and unable to open the window, he shifted around the building and found what he hoped was the doctor's window. This one was open, but as he slipped inside, he fell to the ground with a curse. Clutching his wound, he glared down at the blood. Great, the stitching came out. Looking around, he saw he was on the other side of the doctor's bed. He hobbled over towards it, breath haggard as he studied the man lying there. It was strange. In this lightning the doctor reminded him (somewhat) of his wife.

Fred frowned at the noise.

Stretching out on the bed Fred slowly sat up, hair a touseled mess and face sort of puffy from the intereupted sleep. The noise registered and Fred was out of the bed, eyes wide and staring down at the figure in his floor.

It was that stupid masked man.

Fred frowned and kneeled in front of the man. A sigh. "Tore your stitches didnt you?" It was dark and half asleep - at the very cusp of falling asleep,  Fred didnt think to grab a housecoat.

Fred wasnt the only one frowning.
"It ripped while I was climbing. Youd think Youd use stronger thread and a deeper stitch. Where's your needle? I can sew it back shut on my own."

Fred gave The Mordecai a look.

"Of course. Im no good at my job. Its not like you were climbing or anything or a quick tug in the wrong direction." Fred stood up and stretched his arms back before quickly remembering he wasnt wearing any of his disguise.

A quick movemnt to cross his arms over his chest and he licked his lips and nodded over his shoulder. "Come ob, lets go stich you back up."

If the masked man noticed the change, he said nothing and followed after.
"It wasn't like it was my fault you had no where else for me to hide." Though his tone was biting, even he knew the doctor deserved none of his attitude.

"Its not my fault you're ugly and wont take off a mask,"  Fred snapped over his shoulder.

He grabbed Fred by the arm and looked him clear in the eyes.
"Do you think I wear the mask to preserve vanity?"

Fred grinned, his hair a toussled mess.

"Well sure. Couldnt have your beautiful face bruised or hurt. Then everyone would know who you are," a simple shrug, "take a seat and ill stitch you up," Fred motioned to the clean table and yanked his arm away to gather the string and needle.

He glowered.
"I told you I can do it myself."

Fred frowned and held out the needle and thread before he grabbed a cloth, getting it damp and forcefully washing the masked mans hands. "There,"  he handed the needle and thread over before leaning back to watch.

Leif glared at him but was quick to focus on his wound. Skillfully, he knotted the thread and moved to press at the wound and used the clothe to clean up any excess blood. But as he began to stitch, he visibly flinched with each jab and pull, but it did not hinder his pace.

Fred sighed, watching the man stitch himseld up so roughly.

"You know, if you're so rough you'll leave evidence." Fred pressed a hand to his face and rubbed at his side, "isnt that what youre trying to avoid?"

He didn't bother to look at the other man.
"Why would I care if I add another scar with the others." He moved to toss his head in order to shake his dark hair from his face. I twas normally slicked back, but now it was coming loose and showcasing his curls.

Fred smiled, "i hope you have a good pokerface. That thing is going to pull like a bitch." A grin and he took notice of the dark curls. The eyes and the curls seemed familiar and it was irritating him.

That's when the masked man glared at him with those intense green eyes.
"It won't be hard for me to make excuses." And angrily, he went back to his stitching of flesh, his fingers and skin turning red.

Another grin.

"Oh? Like what?" Fred tilted his head and looked the man up and down, "wont you be unable to heft hay bales?"

That irked him and he turned to glare at the doctor again.
"Farmer's can't afford leather. And why would a farmer need or care to wear a mask?"
Was this doctor for real? He went back to work, finishing up the stitches when he suddenly stabbed the needle into his finger and made a noise, instinctively putting the finger into his mouth before scowling. How could he care over a little pin prick? He had just stitched his flesh... raw.

He moved to bite off the end of the thread.

"Alcohol..." He turned to Fred again. "Do you have any alcohol." He looked at the wound then back to him again. "For the wound and me."

Fred smiled, enjoying riling up the supposed dangerous man. Wasnt a farmer. Didnt need to worry about straining himself or his stitches. With everything he wasnt saying Fred was sating his curiosity more and more. The masked man wouldnt flat out say who he was.

But from Fred would recognize the hair and eye colour now - at least in dim lighting - and he knew the man wasnt a labourer.

Alcohol?

Fred pursed his lips and took pity on the man that stiched himself up like a handbag. No doubt it would leave a nasty scar now. A brief moment away from the room and Fred returned with three glasses before placing two in front of the masked man and keeping the third for himself.

"Cheers to your healthy future," Fred said with a genuine tone and drank back his glass of whiskey, careful to fold his arms over his chest when he put the empty glass down.

Leif just looked at the man, cold and seemingly callous. Then he picked up one of the glasses and knocked it back, before taking the third and dumping it over the wound with a hiss. There was a clothe nearby he used to press into the wound, which was turning white through it's redness and he blinked and looked away, hating the fact the stinging sensation could bring out tears in such a person who believed he was cold to most else in the world.

A tilt of his head and Fred watched, leaning back against the cabinet on his stool. "You know, i may have gone a little gentle on you, but you sewed yourself up like you were a fucking leather bag - which you aren't, by the way." Fred smiled again and looked at his empty glass and nodded towards the masked mans, "Want another one, Morty? We can pretend you have tears in your eyes 'cause you accidentaly inhaled the whiskey."

At the little nickname, his glare flared. This 'doctor' was getting too comfortable with him. Just like the Duke of Allar had. It seemed his masked vigilante-ism had become a thing. It was pissing him off.

"Just get me more to drink."

Fred grinned.

"Sure, no problem." Fred came back with the bottle, a little less than half full and topped up Morty's glass before filling his own and knocking that back. It was warm in his belly and Fred rolled his shoulders, relaxing back in his stool.

"Hows the patch job? Want me to look at it?"

Leif took his drink and answered icily.
"No."

"Are you a prick to everyone or just the people trying to help you out?" Fred asked, a curious tilt to his head, hair falling over his eye so he was forced to messily blow it out of the way. For a man Fred was pretty, the slope of his neck to his shoulders and without the big coat, they weren't nearly as broad.

A tilt the other way when the hair wouldn't cooperate and he eyed the whiskey bottle before taking a deep breath.

Apparently his only emotion was bitchy.
"Yes." He glared at him harder. "Why do you care?"

Fred shrugged but tried to stay pleasant, "Well, you're in my house late at night after I carried you here and I'm curious. Sorry if if makes you uncomfortable."

"I fear if you glare at me anymore my shirt may catch fire."

He was nonplussed.
"You.. carry me?" And the idea of that actually seemed strange to him. He snorted. "You have the body of a woman."

Fred flushed, toussling his hair and pulling it to make it stay up. "Well i had to move you because if i didnt, no doubt you'd be dead," another shrug and Fred looked down at his hands. As much as he tried to not notice there was a delicatendss to them the fingers were long, slim and well groomed. Quickly he folded his arms and tucked his hands under his elbows. "Would you care for a bandage?" Fred nodded to the wound.

"I don't doubt your ethics." Especially now, he was certain of it. And the doctor had helped out that child from earlier. He looked away, then at the wound.
"I doubt bandaging it will do much help..." But he nodded anyways, not bothering to look at Fred.

Fred smiled, "it won't. But it will help keep wound clean," gathering another plain white cloth from a different cabinet Fred pursed his lips and walked back to the masked man. "Its unfortunate that you're a mordecai. This is just a plain cloth to you," and while Fred wasn't a mage around this guy, his hands were still warm when he went to bend over to bandage the angry man up, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I take it you knoe what to do when it heals? Or if it gets red and angry and seeps... foul smelling green stuff?"

"I cut it off." His tone was so severe it was hard to tell if he was joking or not.

Freds eyebrows drew up and he blinked, "uuuh... sure. At least ill know who you are then. That would be news right?" Fred held out his arms like he was reading something, " 'Man found dead after cutting off half his torso due to strange wound '." Fred leaned back "I was going to say clean it but if you want to cut it off." He shrugged and smiled.

"And I'm sure the world would celebrate," he went on, sourly. "Got anything stronger to drink?"

Fred smirked, "you dont look like the duke," a pirse of his lips and he tilted his head, "stronger than whiskey?" Hm. Then he poured himself another glass and handed the bottle over before knocking the drink back.

"Why not just drink more? You know you shouldnt though, not while your wounded. You may bleed more."

He blanched.
"Do I look like I care?" Then his eyes narrowed. "And what duke do you mean?" this doctor was getting uncomfortably close to some privy details.

"The Grand Duke?" Fred leaned in closer to see the features - to make sure, indeed, that this man wasnt the grand duke. "Cant say i know what any of the others look like. All gross old men trying to marry prettt twenty year old heiresses anyway." Fred shrugged and licked his lips, the alcohol having given them a numb feeling.

Which was why he kept chewing on the bottom one.

He snorted bitterly.
"Not all of them are so old."

Fred shrugged, "i'm never  gonna meet one. So how old they may or may not be doesnt reallt concern me." A nod to the whiskey, "you gonna drink or mope?"

The masked man looked him over.
"What if I told you you have?"
He blatantly ignored the questions directed to him, staring at Fred, only at Fred.

Fred leaned and stared back, golden eyes searching the strangers face. "I'd say youre so high on pain and whiskey you think you're some sort of fortune teller."

He just glared, took the drink, and knocked all of it back. It was a fool's act, but he was feeling a big a fool as anyone.

"You better not puke on me," Fred warned, "ill remove that mask and stare at you so hard i never forget your face."

He sneered.
"You already have."
And though feeling a bit queasy, he was able to swallow that down as he continued to glare at the man.

"Your sister's in the castle.... why are you still here?"

Already...? Fred frowned at him, that didnt narrow it down at all. Whatever. Fred would probably recognize him after this meeting if they were to ever cross paths again. The question caught him off guard and he stared for a momment. 

"Because I didnt spit out a baby and get kidnapped? Coerced?" Fred shrugged, of course he knew the origins of the child. Medina told Fred everything. "I suppose as long as she and my nephew are being cared for i can just sit here and worry." Fred pressed a hand to his face, frowning down at the ground.

The masked man scowled.
"Your woman enough, doctor," he spat his response then looked up at him, tilting his head. "I'm surprised they didn't mistake you for your sister."
Being drunk, they did seem a like...
But why had he remembered that? He had only briefly seen his sister, and got barely a glimpse of her face.....

Maybe he was too drunk. But did it matter? He grabbed the bottle of liquor now and began to down it all himself.

Freds heart stopped for a second and his hand flew to his face, pushed through his hand and then... he'd forgotten to wear a house coat. Forgotten to replace the binder.  "We're twins," Fred eyed the mask, hunching so his breasts weren't so pronounced. "Im not womanly at all," he folded his arms over his chest, "i dont know what you're talking about."

Leif sneered a smile and paused in mid drink. "You're bonier than my sister." He took another swig. "And she's supposed to be dead."

"There, see?" Fred started, not touching the 'supposed to be' part of that sentence. "Im bony," That was okay. Fred was content on being boney and unattractive if it meant he got to heal people. Got to help. "Why do you keep saying 'doctor' like its some sort of insult."

He sneered and looked at him, saying it pungently, "Doctor."
He was still glaring, then looked away, and down at the drink.
"You should have stronger alcohol, Doctor."

"Why? My sister was pregnant for months and im the only one that drank." Fred moved forward to take the bottle away, "i think you've had enough, Good Sir. Youve drank me dry."

He yanked the bottle away and knocked back the rest of it before shoving it into 'the good doctor's' hand.

"I'll replace the liquor."

Later.

"I'm sure you will," Fred licked his lips and frowned ever so slightly before leaning in. "How are you going to replace it if i never see you again?"

Leif's face was completely sour as he gave the doctor a shove to keep him away.
"And you doubt the words of a nobleman?"

Fred grinned widely , " nobleman, hmm? The plot grows thicker. With a sister that should be dead. I wish i were more of a gossip," he dusted himself off where the masked man touched him.

And that pissed off Leif as he grabbed Fred by the scruff of his sweater and pulled him in dangerously close.
"Don't get so cocky."
He really hated doctor's,- especially this one. He was almost up there on his list with the doctor who tricked him into losing his entire family....

He couldn't wait until he got his hands on that man. He'd make him wish he were rotting in his grave when he extracted his revenge.

"I could always expose you for what you are."

But what was that? Even he, in his drunken state, wasn't even sure.

Fred swallowed, heart in his throat and he put his hands on Leifs at his sweater. The light was bad but once glance down his shirt and the masked man would know what to expose him as. Though the words caught Fred off guard and he swallowed carefully.

"What would that be? A mage?"

With a snarl, he just shoved the doctor aside. It left his sweater a ruffled mess. He turned away and moved towards a couch, swaying a bit.

"I'm going to stay here." There wasn't a choice on the matter. He dropped down to sit, but was half lying on it when he did so.

Fred sighed and followed, "be careful. If you rip your stitch job your insides may fall out."

"We wouldn't want that to happen now would we? Not if it could mar your reputation, doctor." And he turned from him, stuffing half of his face into the couch's arm rest and closed his eyes. "Goodnight."

"You're not even a patient of mine so," Fred shrugged and stood up to walk to his own room, "Goodnight." And then he made his way back to his room, closing the window and drawing the curtain. Heart still pounding and alcohol making his head swim. A shaky little sigh and he pressed a hand to his chest before he sat on his bed and pressed a heated palm to his clammy face.

What a night.

The alcohol helped him fall asleep, though he remained facing the door while he did so.

But the night was hardly over. But this time the one doing the window crawling was neither the woman pretending to be the man doctor; nor the masked vigilante sleeping on his couch. This was a thief who was rather skilled and dangerous- after all, Reajh was no place for thieves; but even still, the darkest and cunning one's thrived.

They knew well enough the city guards were far from this area, patrolling elsewhere still looking for the masked mordecai. To him, it was a nice distraction to making his job easier. So was the open window as it slid it up and simply stepped inside.

In the shadows, he lurked and peered down at the sleeping doctor. From the blush on his face, and the smell from his snores, he knew the person was drunk. He grinned
Yes, his job would be nice and easy that night.

Fred twitched every so slightly, shifting before rolling over, leg up, sweater climbing up his torso. Arms curled around the pillow. Oblivious to the intruder. Silent like the night, another shift but Fred just remained asleep.

It might have been wiser for the intruder to keep passing through, but he figured to linger in the bedroom and have a look around. Maybe the owner of the house kept his valuables here, so he began to rummage through his armoire, finding a lot of bandages, strange baggy clothing, and even  a dress or two.

Probably the sod's wife, he speculated. He kept flipping through and paused when something fell, and soon a bunch of small tools scattered onto the ground. The man swore and held his breath, eyes cutting through the darkness to see if he had woke the sleeping man up.

However, he presumed initially it was a man, but in this lightning and the way his clothing hugged to his body....
The intruder snuck over to his still sleeping form, eyes roving over him before he tilted his head at just such an angle that he could tell....


"Ah... she has breasts...."
And to confirm it, the man moved silently to lift up her shirt and felt a little stirring in his own pants.

A woman....
All alone....
Maybe he'd steal something else other than money. And she was quite a sweet thing.

Freds hand drifted over his belly, frowning at the cold before a night breeze blew up his shirt. Though, the strange noise and then the tugging sensation had golden eyes snap open and Fred stared for a long confused moment.

Still full of alcohol. Tired. Groggey.

Was this the masked guy? No. Eyes are the wrong colour.

Why was.

"What are you doing in my house?!" Fred's hands moved to tug his sweater down before she remembered. No binder. "You better get out before i get the sharpest object i own and flay you alive!" Winifred yelled a little louder than necessary. Maybe it would wake the mordecai. Hopefully.

Oh she as feisty.
Good.
He didn't want to rape a frail girl who'd just break like glass.

Before she could stop him, he had a firm grip on her wrists and was pressing her back onto the bed and silencing her with a gruff kiss.
"Keep that tongue to use with mine and your voice for the moans I'll earn outta ya if ya know what's good fer ya."

He was working at his pants, already getting himself free as he tried to keep her down while his other hand worked at the lower half of Winifred's clothes.

No.

No no no.

Winifreds heart hammered in her chest and she tried not to retch when she felt a gross slimy tongue in her mouth. Silenced for a moment Fred threw back her head and yelled, kicking her legs. "Mordecai!" He had to still be close by, surely she could have done something to the fiend if the mordecai had left.

"You put your tongue in my mouth again and ill bite it off!" Another kick and she grew sick when she felt her pants roll down her hips. Breasts on display and soon to have her pants down to her knees. Fred was going to rip out his tongue when she had the chance.

He was fighting her, tooth and nail, trying to keep her legs open. He was successful, and moved inbetween her, and threw himself at her as he grabbed a fistful of her hair.

"You sweet thing are gonna take my seed, in your mouth, in your belly, iny our cunt and your ass," he growled with promise and soon she'd feel the vile man inside.

A wail of pain that Fred didn't try to muffle. Having disguised herself as a man left little time for dalliances and while her sister had sampled a few dashing men, Fred kept herself to her disguise and she gave a gasping cry when she felt blood coat her thighs. Fred never imagined a 'first time' with anyone, but this had been one of those unthought of occurrences.

"Let me go!" She screamed again, trying in vain to get away.  Whenever he brought his face close she jerked hers forward in hopes to hit him in the nose with her forehead. Flailing and kicking. Screaming. Fred was angry. Fred could only survive if she stayed angry.

Fred also focused her golden eyes on her attackers face. To remember. A silent promise, "I'm going to cut out your dirty rapist tongue," She hissed at him before clenching her teeth until her jaw ached.

It was rough and he smelled lewd. His words were lewd. The entire situation was awful. He was laughing mercilessly, slobbering kisses at her throat and neck as he continued to pound into her like a dog.

"So tight little whore... is this your first time or are you enjoying it that mu-" But the rest of his words were garbled by the sudden gush of his own blood from his throat. And he coughed, blood splattering across Winifred's face before the knife the masked man had sunk into his throat was yanked out-
and the intruder toppled over with a gasp, and Leif's black boot helped to send him to the floor.

Dark eyes flashed to Winifred, and he grabbed a fistful of clothing from the open armoire and tossed them onto her naked belly.

"Get dressed. We're leaving."

"Mordecai," Fred breathed, sitting up and holding the clothing to her belly. A careful breath and a moment before she wiped the blood from her face and shuffled off the bed. A wince of a pain but the delicate mask held, Fred turned her back and wiped what she could from between her legs with the soiled sheets before pulling on new clothing.

It smelled clean.

Which was a nice change.

Fred took in a shaky breath and smoothed her hands down her front. "Leaving to where?" Fred glanced at the body on her bed for a brief moment before turning away.

When she'd turn around, she'd see the mask man undressing, having set aside the best coat he could find. He paused in mid unbuttoning his pants, and removed his leather mask.

"For Castavar."

And he wriggled out of the remains of his leather attire, body revealed; muscled, bruised and scarred. He turned from her and began to pull on Fred's male attire, the most respectable looking bunch he could find.

"We can't stay here."

There was a dead body. The girl pretending to be a doctor was raped. She could be with child. And now.... He looked at her. She'd be able to see his face.

"You're coming with me to my home."

The mask was breaking and Fred felt weak. She knew she was anything but. Fred's hair flopped into her face and she gave a numb little nod. A careful swallow. Soon enough Fred was bent over on the floor, vomiting up bile and whiskey.

Fred faced and teary eyed she got up and pushed past the now unmasked man. He seemed familiar. Like she'd seen him before but Fred had to moved. Grabbing a bag she put various medicines in it before she left the building. Her home. It didnt really matter where she went. She just had to leave.

So she did.

It was raining. Not many were out at this hour as the pair moved through the streets.

"We're going to high town," he told her, looking both ways before crossing the street. He kept Fred's hand in his own, guiding him, or rather her along. He figured the doctor had good reasons. He wouldn't ask. He had many secrets of his own.

The place he brought her to was one of the beautifully maintained estates in all of the capital (the palace aside). They were welcomed by the servant, and Leif went with his room. He addressed Fred as his cousin, omitting any real names and just making his way up the grand staircase.

Once inside his room, he began to shed off his rain soaked clothing and slipped into a more suitable jerkin and cloak. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling up his boots before gesturing to Fred.

"You'll want to change as well. You can wear one of my sister's dresses in the closet." Though he knew not which dress may remain. She had been 'dead' after all, but he insisted her clothing not be disturbed.

Being Attie was actually alive, and that this was a dangerous moment, he could easily give up the dress for their escape. He moved past her towards the tall, standing mirror, and began to fuss over the slick black curls of his hair.

Fred held her bag close, following along not unlike a zombie. Listless. Pale. Fred swallowed thickly, fighting back the urge to vomit again as she was tugged along.

Frowning at the instruction to put on a dress Fred did so.

Gravitating to one of the plainesr she could find, Fred didnt even glance at the man before she started to undress, pulling the other dress in bit by bit. It was easier to just follow instructions right now. While Fred was a decent looking boy, Winifred could be a beautiful woman and she fluffed her hair to be the slightest more girly.

Silently, once she was quickly changed she moved to stand behind the unmasked man and looked at him in his mirror. "You're the angry man. From earlier."

He paused and looked at her through the mirror.
"Yes."
He continued on with his preening.
"But you should know more about me."
He was adjusting the buttons of his cuffs.

Fred folded her arms over her chest, shifting her stance. Sure now she looked like a girl, but her mannerisms were still masculine enough. "Hmm... you look better in a mask?"

He just stared at her. He was a bit surprised she said that, but not much emotion showed. He turned to her.
"You should probably know my name."

Fred's eyebrows lifted and she stared at him, looking for a clue. He had said... Fred swallowed and hugged herself, taking a step back and staring down at the floor. "You sajd you were a nobleman, im sure you noticed im not part of that social circle. Tell me, maybe ill try to remember it."

He could have smiled. Maybe some of it shown in his eyes.
"I'm not just a nobleman." He finished buttoning his cuffs. "Do you even know where Castavar is?"

Fred pursed her lips and tilted her head, pushing her hair from her eyes and ignoring how tired her limbs were. How much she just wanted to crumple to the floor and cry. Swallowing carefully, because this at least, entertained her, she tapped at her lower lip and stared off into space for a moment.

"Over... Here." She waved her hand at her mental invisible map, "I've never been myself. I heard it's lovely in the spring time," Fred gave another shrug, "What are you like... The Duke?" She scoffed and gave him a look. Then she stared at him, "Oh my God. You're the Duke. L-something?"

His brows hung low as he looked at her. Then he did offer her a small smile. More of a smirk.
"Leif Arrant."

A little nod to him, and a glance down at herself.

"Fred," Another glance down at herself, "Winifred," she plucked at the dress, swallowing carefully before looking around again and down at her bag, "How's your side?"

He kept one brow raised at her, those green eyes intense.
"Winifred..."
Fred...
He should have seen that one. It wasn't that clever... especially if someone knew her by birth.

"I'll live." He moved to begin packing his things. "I'll call for my carriage. We'll leave within the hour."

Fred smiled and tilted her head, "I was never a girl, only my sister knows my name." Though his urgency confused her and she kept her arms at her sides, frowning at him. "They'll think I murdered him," Her voice grew shaky and she paled, rubbing her arms and looking down at her hands. Bruises were blooming at her wrists and she quickly covered them with her palms so she didn't have to look at them, but she only stared more.  "Is that why we're leaving?"

Leif grew quiet, and just kept packing his things.
"They'll think I killed you both." Came his eventual reply.

Fred frowned slightly, putting a hand to her neck.

Would Medina think that?

"What about my sister?"

"Do you want her to die?"

A frantic shake of her head, "no! Never." The mask cracked again, face crumpling just enough before she quickly schooled it into a mask again.

Leif's face was as placid, cold as ever.
"Then let her think just that."
He moved to pull on his cloak and offered one over to her.
"There'll be rain."
And the travel would be cold.
He gestured her to follow and he summoned the servants to gather his things. "We're leaving."

It was a confusing whirlwind of things.

Freds only concern now was for her sister.  Swallowing carefully she nodded and took the cloak, pulling it up and over her head. Staring straight ahead. "Where are we going?" She asked quietly, covering herself more with the cloak, frowning when someone caught her eye.

"Back to my home. I'm a Duke, remember? Duchies don't rule themselves." And he continued moving along down the stairs and outside to where the carriage was being pulled along front. He opened the door and gestured for her to get in. "Ladies first."

And it was here, as she stood just outside the carriage that he actually had a good look at her. Strange...
She was a pretty woman. Funny how she pulled off the doctor act so well.

Fred stared at him for a few moments before remembering that she was the lady. "Right,"  a hand pushed through her hair and she climbed in, bag held tightly to herself. A visible wince when she sat. Another moment of being pale. Hands shaking.

"Im not uses to being the lady," she tried to joke, " I'll probably try and open lots of doors for you, your... Duke... lieness."

He gave her a look before joining her on the opposing seat.
"You'll be more than just a woman now. You'll hold doors for no one." And he told the driver to go, and turned to somberly look out the window.

Fred frowned and rubbed her hands together, feeling that they were cold. Mostly she just felt numb. Numb and hollow. Swallowing carefully and watched him watch out the window. "Are you going to cut off my arms or something? Being polite is... Sort of ingrained in me."

He looked at her, then away
"Its a long ride to Castavar."

Fred swallowed and nodded, "I figured. I remember where it is on the map." A purse of her lips and she sat back, head resting against the side of the carriage. "Would you mind if I try to sleep?" Her voice was soft and she glanced at him, finally looking a little worn down, pale and bruised.

He nodded.
"Its been a long night."

"Thanks," Fred tried to smile and quickly enough shifted her seat, drawing her knees up and hugging her knees closer to herself, cheek pressed to the side of the carriage. At least Fred's ability to fall asleep quickly stayed with her, because once she was comfortable she was out like a light.

If he hadn't known what she had gone through he'd be impressed she slept the entire time to Castavar. They were at least closer to the capital than most other duchies, but it was still a day's ride, in good weather. He was thankful when the carriage approached his home, and he peered down at Winifred, wondering if the change in pace of the horses might rouse her.

When Fred wasnt sleeping, she was pretending. Luckily, the steady movement of the horses and her head occationally thumping on the carriage kept her both awake and asleep in equal parts. Mostly awake.

Indeed, his thought was answered because the change in pace had her lift her head and open her golden eyes. Fred looked tired and she spared Leif a quick sidelong glance before looking out the window.

She couldnt remember the last time she'd been so tired.

Opening her eyes was a mistake. A quick intake of breath when she went to move and it hurt. A glance down at her bruised wrists. A sick feeling in her stomach. "What should I call you?" Her voice was small and tired, a tremble going through her system.

He simply watched her.
"Duke Arrant," he told her evenly.

Another careful little swallow.

"Duke Arrant." That was easy enough. It would be fine. Fred closed her eyes for a moment before catching Duke Arrants eyes, " Thank you." Though beyond that, she couldnt say much. Sure, he stopped it. Would she have been killed? Fred gave another shudder, going as pale as her dusky skin could get.

Another careful swallow.

The tears were silent and by the time Fred realized she was crying it was too late to stop. She simple breathed deep breaths and turned her face away. "I'm sorry," she huffed out, offerinf Duke Arrant an awkward little smile, "they won't stop." She motioned to her eyes and turned away again.

Tears... emotions. He was never good with these emotions. Anger he could understand. Hate he could warrant. But tears...
He looked away, feeling numb and as awkward as she. He said nothing however, but after a moment, he shuffled into his pocket and didn't look at her when he handed her a kerchief. And he said nothing.

Fred closed her eyes and kept her face turned away. The crying eventually stopped - which she was thankful for. The tear soaked kerchief was kept though, balled up in her hand.

"So. The - " Fred motioned to her face, indicating his mask'd habits, "- Is that a hobby or a job?"

He looked at her, then when he realized what she was asking, his gaze hardened.
"It's not something appropriate to talk about." He turned away, watching them pull nearer to the castle. "Not now."


Maybe he'd explain it later.
Maybe.

"Ah, secrets. I guess you and I share a few of those already,"  Fred gave an apologetic smile before leaning back, knees apart and very much not acting like a lady. If anything she looked like a girlish boy in a dress if it werent for the swell of breasts at the neck line. "Why did you give me a dress? We're almost the same height. Your shoulders are broader than mine, but im sure i could have worn an old suit or something."

"You want them to know you're the doctor where that body was found?"

Fred opened her mouth, looked confused and then closed it. "I... No. I didnt think of that," Fred rolled her shoulders and itched under the sleeve, "Dresses are awful, though. All tight around the middle. And itchy." Fred frowned and looked down at herself, "I look like a girl "

Leif kept staring at her.
"You are a girl." He turned away. "A woman."

Fred glared at him, "fooled you though," she stuck her tongue out at him and leaned back. Another deep breath. Another wave of sickness that she squeezed her eyes against. "You can try to deny it, but everyone likes a pretty doctor in a nice suit."

He stared at her, a hard stare for a good while before saying,
"It beats an old one with a face full of warts."

A grin, though it quickly faded and she breathed in before closing her eyes. "Whats the story? Who am i supposed to be? And we'll need an excuse for why my hair is so short."

He kept his arms folded as he studied her.
"What do you want your story to be?"
It'd be her fake life. She might as well have some say in it.

Fred gave him a look . "You think i can make up a fake life? I can draw you the inside of a body. Not play imaginar-- fine. How about this. I took your sorry dying ass into my house, you snuck in through a window, we got drunk, I didnt lock my window and because of this long chain of events I got raped. How about that for my story. Oh wait! Thats not a story. So stop your fucking grumpy arm-folding moping and help me come up with some sort of goddamn story so we can all make you look better." Then Fred frowned, "I'll willingly go by Winifred. Or Winnie. Medina called me Winnie." There was a pause, "twenty years ago."

Leif studied her. Shouldn't he have a right to be angry? He supposed she did, too. He knew it wasn't easy. But it wouldn't be easy for them both.

"Too many people know my history. You can't be a relative..." he went on, looking away.

Fred made a face. Not one of total disgust but at least one of some distaste.

"What would they believe?" Fred crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back, staring out the opposite window. "I could be a friend? You whore ." Fred looked ashamed of herself the second she said it, ducking her head down. "Perhaps my house burnt down with all of my hair and family and out of kindness in your hesrt you've... uh... have taken me into your care."

Leif didn't bother to look at her when he replied, "They'd feel more inclined to believe you're my whore." He sighed. "Although we could lie and go one step further to make it your my new lover." And his face wrinkled in a bit of disdain as he shifted uncomfortably. Lover?

Did he really propose that?

Fred gave him a side eyed look.

Lover. Really?

The knot in her stomach tightened and she sighed. "Alright, sounds good," it didnt. But it beat being a whore.  The words echoed in her head and she squeezed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I... have never ... i... " Fred paused, " i dont know what to do in that... situation so i hope you'll preemptively forgive any mistakes i make."

Leif snorted.
"My wife's been presumed dead for the past few years. Finding a lover, or another woman of marriageable age wouldn't be a surprise, nor would your unforgiving status. If they ask, we could just make it a partial lie. I was wounded in the capital and you happened to be a doctor visiting and tending to my wounds. After finding out you were a widower, I decided to take you in as my wife so as to secure an heir and also make a statement to my people."

My people? That still sounded odd on his tongue. He was still looking away, brooding as he said all of this.

"I wouldn't marry for love again anyway... but you can say no." He then turned to her, eyes like ice. "It would be your future, too."

Fred frowned slightly, rubbing at the skirt over her thighs. Hadnt he just said lover? Now it was wife? No matter. Fred just wanted to sleep forever. "I'm dead, remember?" She gave a dry laugh, "this future seems far more preferable to being dead."

Swallowing carefully she closed her eyes. "Its just... pretend, right? Im good at faking it," she gave him a humourless smile before tipping her head back and closing her eyes.

"I'm not," he muttered. "But if I were actually happy they'd know something was up." The carriage stopped and he sighed. "We're here." He moved to open the door and offered her a hand.

Fred smiled.

His honesty at being unable to fake it caught her off guard and she just smiled. Some partof her was also happy that his general mood was unhappy - because that meant it wasnt just her.

Carefully she took Leif's hand, not enjoying how dainty she felt while wearing a dress. "I'll teach you sometime, maybe," she teased softly before following him from the carriage.

Then she stared, "so.. what is this?" She looked to him and pointed, not quite grasping where they were.

Teach him that? Teach him what?

But his eyes followed her's as he clasped them behind his back and looked up at the stone building before them. It was massive and towered over them.

"This? This is my home." And he gestured for her to follow him in through the front doors, which a pair of posh servants had both opened for them.

Fred followed him, golden eyes wide and she watched his back for a moment before giving her head a little shake. This was a home? Fred shrank into herself a little, shoulders back and chin up. Wanted to be a lady.

"You have a lovely home. A little large but... lovely." A roll of her shoulders and she unconciously stayed close to Leif's back. A gentle bite of her lip and she gave him a hesitant look. "What should i do?"

"A little? You're in a castle."

A surprised smile.

"Did I wound your ego?" She gave his groin area a quick glance - mostly for the potential reaction than to look at him. "My apologies. Its positively huge , My Lord."

Leif's expression remained grim.
"You can't wound my ego, I assure you." He cleared his throat and continued to escort her through the castle, leading her up the wide, winding grand staircase. A lot of the servants gave them curious looks, some hopefuly, as if wondering if this woman was their duchess come home-
But their expressions turned to confusion soon enough to realize this was a new woman- and one with some mannish features.

"All of Castavar intends to wound me. Not many noblemen in my duchy even wanted me on the throne. But blood is law, not their disdain." He continued to lead her on and went on without skipping a beat, hands clasped regally behind his back. "Shall I show you your room?"

Can't wound his ego?

Fred's eyebrows drew up her forehead and she had a sneaky little smile on her face, that sounded like a challenge. A grim one, but what else was she going to do? Fred swallowed carefully, catching the eyes of the servants, not missing how hopeful expressions crumpled into confusion and disappointment.

A hand moved self consciously to ruffle through her short hair and her foot dragged along a stair, causing her to stumble.

Of course, Fred caught herself, but then she remembered. The one wrong movement woke up every ache and pain in her body and she got a far away look in her eyes before she fixed her stance and began to follow him again.

"Yes, please." Voice quiet, "It's been a long journey, how does one go about getting a bath? I don't want to step on any toes."

"As a lady the servants here are at your beck and call." He paused to catch a female servant as he told her, "Prepare a warm bath for the lady. She'll be in the red room at the end of the hall."
The servant nodded and made haste, peering only once over her shoulder at the pair before disappearing around the bend.

"You'll hear a lot of gossip.." he went on. "Take it however you'd like. The Gods know everyone in the duchy does."

Gossip.

The one thing that Fred had been avoiding her whole life. Gossip lead to interest and that lead to people trying to talk to her. A little frown and she looked towards Leif.  "Gossip about... Me?" A tilt of her head and she smoothed her hands down her front, frowning ever so slightly. "Any ideas of what it would be?" A little frown, "Fortune hunter? I'm pregnant with our love child? I've seduced you into taking me home? I Imagine none of it would be good on me."

"Nor me, I assure you." Leif paused to look her over, but then continued on in silence to lead her to her room.
"This is the Red room. It'll be your room and only yours so long as you are here."

Fred peeked her head into the room and looked over her shoulder to Leif, swallowing carefully and disliking how she felt so fragile. Like a glass just waiting to tip and shatter. A careful breath and she blinked before nodded, tempted to ask how long she'd be here for. A look at the bag she brought and a quick look around the room.

"Thank you, My Lord," A quick glance away, but she forced herself to meet his eyes, "For everything."

He felt strange when her eyes met his, and even stranger at her thanks. In fact, he bristled.
"Don't thank me. I just offered you a gilded cage rather than a rotting one."

Fred swallowed and gave a gentle shake of her head and she took a step back, taking his arm and pulling his head close so she could speak into his ear, her tone a husky soft whisper. "Thank you for killing him, because if you hadn't I would have," Fred gave him a quick kiss on the cheek to make the exchange look a little less suspicious should anyone be watching and she turned away and towards the room again. "If I was to be stuck in a cage, I'd prefer the gilded," Fred gave a humourless laugh and placed her bag beside the bed before she explored the room.

He paused in her door way to watch her before clearing his throat.
"I'll leave you to rest. I have.. much to do. Being a Duke doesn't mean I get to sit on my ass all day and while I was in the capital... I'm sure there's more than a lion's share of paper work to contend with."

He bowed his head down low.

"My lady. Just ring for one of the servants if you need anything else. Your bath waters should be ready within the half hour."

Fred could imagine, and she felt a pang of... Something. Finding she didn't quite enjoy being treated like a lady. He assumed she wouldn't know he didn't have work to do. Of course he would. He was a duke. Fred couldn't imagine the amount but she knew. A little nod at his retreating form and true to his word the bath and water were in her room with the soaps and clothes to accompany it. The water was hot. Steaming.

After making sure any windows and doors were locked - though someone surely had a key to the door - Fred got undressed and carefully examined herself. Was he far away enough now so she could heal herself? Little cuts. Bruises. A look at her hip and the perfect imprint of her hand turned her stomach. Fred squeezed her eyes shut and she stood naked before the tub. A woman. As much as the suits and short hair could help her pretend, she'd never be a man.

Trembling hands against the sides of the tub eased her into it and she submerged herself, head dunking under. How easy would it be to just make what he said true? That she was dead? Frowning, Fred rose from the tub and cleaned herself, skin rubbed raw by the cloth, turned red by the heat of the water.

Violated. Fred's teeth clenched and she squeezed her hands into fists so hard she made little cuts on her palms. What terrible things were wrought from a forgotten window. What a way her life could change. Fred stayed in the water until it was cold, finally rising from it when she was shivering. The rest of the evening was a blur.

Not because she was content or because she was confused and afraid.

Fred had packed a sedative and had liberally dosed herself with it after putting on a night gown and desperately missing the nice cotton pants her sister had made her. Mourning the loss of Fred. The death of... Her life. Did she want to be Winifred? Did she want to be a simple woman?

Did it matter?

There were no dreams, but there was no waking up either and it wasn't until early afternoon that one of the servants went to the Duke, frantic with worry because the tall woman he brought home wasn't waking up when they went to fetch the tub and they found an empty bottle of something on the nightstand.

About knee deep in paper work and red eyed from lack of sleep, Leif was on his feet the moment he got the news. And inside her room, for no door could remain locked, he made his way to her bed, sitting down beside her and shaking her, and realizing, with some sure fired shock, she really wasn't responding, he demanded to see the bottle.

It was unlabeled, of course! And as he smelled it, he turned away to gag.
"Throw it away and bring us some smelling salts."

Why in Gods name did he try to save this woman if she was just going to waste away into a weak state of suicide? Even still, as the servants rushed off to do just that, he continued to shake her, rougher still, demanding,
"Winifred... Winifred.. WAKE UP!"

Awful dream.

It had been a nice boat ride but now the horizon was screaming her name and the ocean had turned angry. Waves crashing and -crunch- her tongue hurt.  The pain made her eyes snap open though they closed bleary again. Hands moved to whatever was shaking her and she gave a little moan of protest.

"God. I'm right here, what do you want?" The words were slurred and her head tipped back before she righted it and struggled to keep her eyes open, "What time is it?"

Angered, he gave her shoulders a squeeze before letting her drop onto the bed.
"You had my servants and I worried you over dosed on some drug," he growled.

Fred gave a sleepy frown.

"Worried? I... its..." Winifred rubbed her face and her chest, squeezing her eyea shut for a moment. "Its just a sedative. I was worried i wouldnt be able to sleep." A confused shake of her head, "i didnt mean to worry anyone. Cant say im used to people... being around."

Leif's frown set in deeper.
"You'd better get used to it." And he sat up, bristling. "And get used to being less obliged to drinking down elixir's like they're water." He was having enough problems as it was, and bringing her along only added to them. Maybe he shouldn't have dragged her along...
But he knew the guilt would have rotted at his gut.

Fred tried not to give a sleepy smile at the anger that was being displayed. Mostly she succeeded and Fred sat up, pushing fingers through her hair before she stretched her arms and yawned back arched and unfortunately pushing her chest forwards. Clearly Fred was not used to having breasts in any capacity because she quickly folded her arms over her front, 'Sorry'.

Fred licked her lips and looked at the door when one of the maids rushed in, looking frantic and Fred frowned slightly. She'd decided she didn't like having maids.

"Do you need help with anything? I'd... Really rather not have a lot of time to myself." Her question was directed at the Duke and she gave him a slightly pleading look.

Leif's face skewed at her question.
"You should rest. And I'll leave you to just that." And he turned from her without another word and left.

Fred reached out, trying to grab his hand but let it fall onto the bed, head ducked down. She didn't want to rest. She didn't want to be alone. Rest and alone meant for too much thinking and...

Why was he suddenly the boss?

Just because this was his house? Because he was the duke?

He was a god awful guest to her.

Fred frowned and slid off the bed on wobbly legs when he finally left the room, the maid giving her wearly look and leaving quickly after him. A little smirk and Fred went through the closet and dresser, finding something to wear. It was another dress, but plain and up to the neck. To the wrists and the dress wasn't really bell shaped, hugging her hips and thighs before flairing out slightly.  A nice navy blue with white lace.

So, Fred left the room and wandered the halls, finding a library and mostly she stayed there for the day, not eating. But at least she was resting. By nightfall there were several books beside her, most of them history or medical or anything she could find that wasn't a make believe love story.

Busy or not, it riled him up to keep getting reports about the 'woman'. Hours later, he finally decided to approach her from where she was perched in his study. He was surprised of the sorts of books littered around her.

"You have a strange way of resting."

"Resting leaves too much time to think," Fred said softly, closing a book. "I wasnt moving much, that counts as resting." Swallowing carefully she looked up at him, "i know you said it was going to be a gilded cage, but you didnt say you'd be playing the jailkeeper."

Leif looked unphased by her quip.
"You had a long night and a long travel. When I meant you should rest, I meant you should sleep. Sleep doesn't require thinking."

Fred shook her head, "im not used to sleeping so much and i fear i have to be tired to sleep." A small apologetic smile, "i slept plenty last night. But thank you for the concern." Fred leaned in slightly, "im sure youre aware im a grown woman who's also intelligent and i can make decisions by myelf?"

Leif was a bit surprised by her last statement and almost smiled. Almost. The evidence was in his eyes.
"Very well, but you'd do well to try to get some sleep. It seems you and I are going to have a very busy week."

Fred smiled, looking at his eyes before she smoothed her hand over the cover of a book. Then she frowned ever so slightly. "Busy week?" Swallowing she shifted slightly, "may i ask why?"

"Many will gossip about our relations," he went on with a frown. "I trust you know what I mean."

Fred licked her lips, "so... i have to wear a bag over my head?" A frown, "i know i just said i was smart but... i think i need you to tell me. Leif, why will it be busy."

He should have known it'd take her longer. She was a low-born, after all.
"I can't remain unmarried for long. And if you end up in a condition...."
He didn't want to paint it out further for her than that.

End up in...

Fred froze and turned cold.

That hadnt even really been a possibility in her world and she took quick little breaths. Her hand sought anything and it grabbed his arm while she fought nack neausea and fear gripped her stomach.

"I cant go from never having sex to... to... being..." Fred squeezed her eyes shut and pulled her hand away, taking careful little breaths to calm down. "I understand, though. I hadnt even thought of that."

Leif was about to wrench her hand away when he paused and frowned at her.
"You're a doctor... what did you expect when a man took you?"

Fred frowned, "i don't know, consent?"  A little shake of her head and she closed her eyes. "You're right." Licking her lips she sighed and opened a book back up, thumbing through the pages carefully though not reading them.

"I... i assume you have a lot of work to do, you should get back to it." And leave me alone. The words hung in the air and she turned away from him and continued to read the book.

"I do, but as I said, so do you." Or perhaps he hadn't made it clear enough? And his presence remained looming over her like the shadow she sought to ignore.

Frowning, Winifred read until she got through a whole page without actually reading it. Sure the words had gone through her head but... She hadn't remembered any of it and she looked up at Leif and frowned, blinking at him like this was all his fault. It was. No. It was hers. She carried him to her home. Tried to patch him up.

She licked her lips and looked at his chest, "How's your..." She rubbed her side before giving him a look, an obvious change of subject. "I brought my bag if you need anything," Winifred nodded towards where she thought her room was in the house, "it's in my room."

"It's itchy," he told her flatly. "I can tend to it later."

Winifred frowned slightly and shook her head, "I have a salve in the bag, it will help with the healing." She stood up and looked at him, "So, we can tend to it now and then you can do whatever it is you do later," She pursed her lips, "And you get your way because I'll be in my room." She lifted a book, "I'm bringing this with me though." A history book. About Adela of all places.

Leif sighed.
"Alright."
He might as well take advantage of having a healer living with him. He gestured towards the hall.
"Let's do that then, and aftwards, you should try to call it a night."

A bright smile. Victory was sweet.

Winifred tucked the book under her arm and walked to her room, pleased. The skirts swished and she kept her steps even. Placing the book on a desk when she finally got to the room, she glided to her bag, bent over to pick it up and hefted it onto the bed before putting out a pot with a screw top.

She opened it, gave it a sniff, wrinkled her nose and took a step back.

"Alright, lock the door and take off your shirt. You can sit on the bed or on a chair, as long as I can get to the gash and the sew job you did on yourself," She wrinkled her nose, remembering that he had indeed, restitched himself. No doubt that contributed to the itchiness.

After following her, and being around her enough, he looked at her rather quizzically when she mentioned...
"Lock the door?"

He supposed privacy was best. But a locked door with a man and a woman meant a lot more than a locked door with a man and another man.

"I assumed you didn't want your gossiping help to know about the large gash on your side that you - a Duke- has no reason to have." Winifred shrugged her shoulders and tucked a long peice of hair behind her it for it to simply fall back into her face.

"You said we're having a busy week next week, is there such a big deal if you lock the door now? Either way," She took the salve and moved towards him, "Off with the shirt. We'll put this on and give you a fresh bandage."

Leif's gaze was hard, but he locked the door and obliged, removing his shirt like an ordered soldier and as he shrugged it off, in the lightning of the room, it was more evident now than it may have been before at just how many near scrapes with death he had come across long before this new gash even appeared. But he simply stood there, strong body exposed and waited for the good doctor to do 'his' work.

Winifred kept herself steady. Face stoic and she cleaned his wound carefully with what she brought with her and some water before applying the salve. Before, she'd never trembled, but her hands shook gently and she looked tense while gently pressing it to around his wound, checking the stitches and smoothing everything out.

"You have more marks on you than a map does," She commented quietly, tracing a few of the bigger scars curiously before she remembered that it was indeed someone elses body and she shouldn't really be caressing it. A new clean bandage was pressed to his chest and she stood up, but not before catching an eyeful of his chest. She'd never touch him for any reason besides patching a wound - she knew that - but she could at least look.

Be entertained at the fact that this man, the one she'd dragged to her clinic over her shoulder. Some Masked Mordecai fellow was in fact a Duke.

Of all the things.

At least that meant he wasn't stupid and she smiled, remembering how irritated he got when she claimed they were all old and gross.

"All patched up, if you like I can check on it tomorrow or I can give you clean bandages and you can take care of it yourself - as you seem like you want to do." And she realized then her palm was still on his abdomen, and she quickly removed it and put it against her leg in her skirts and tried very hard - without success - not to blush.

He just remained quiet, though tense, as he let her work without fuss. But when her finger's traced over his scars... They sent a shiver across his skin.

When she was done, and her hand extracted, he moved to grab his shirt.
"My wife never liked the scars."

"Most ladies don't," Winifred said softly then shrugged, "I've always had a strange fascination with scars." A small smile and she looked at her hand, "Probably because I have a twin, though I imagine her having a child has made us much less alike now even though I'm in a dress," A thick swallow at the mention of having a child, something Winifred didn't want to do. Not one borne of that act.

"They tell stories. Show mistakes that were made," She eyed his chest again, fascinated more by the scars than the muscles. The stories they probably told. She looked to the freshly patched up wound and kept her hands at her sides, "You can leave now. I'll... Try to sleep. No promises though." She eyed the history book before looking back at him.

Leif frowned as he nodded.
"It was the stories and the reminder of the frailty of man that upset her. But she didn't wish to stop me, she didn't want to." And without so much as another word, he turned around and left.
"Rest well."

Winifred chose to stay quiet.

If he wanted to feed her information about his wife he was free to. Winifred didnt see the point. Not really. Then again, she couldnt imagine caring for someone enough to marry them for love of all things.

Well she couldnt imagine marrying someone at all.

"You as well," she called to his back when he left and she changed quickly into a loose nightgown grabbed the borrowed book, brought a candle beside the bed and instead of sleeping, she read the history book until morning was crisp in the air and the sweet sound of birds filtered in through the window.

And she might hear the thunder of horse hooves as a man cloaked in black riding a black horse was racing across the hills of the castle grounds.

It was too early for much of anything bur Winifred pulled on a fancy housecoat and wrapped it around herself when she went to the window to see. Of course, it was then that she became tired. Winifred rubbed at her arms and curled her hands together before frowninf gently and moving towards the door, intent on listening to whatever was going on.

As the dark cloaked rider crested the hill, a trio of riders in similar, plain, but well kept guard, appeared. They formed a close knit semi circle before the lone rider and judging by the way the horses moved uneasily, the talk wasn't pleasant. However, they would be too far away for anyone to actually hear what they were saying....

But whatever it was wasn't pleasant, for after a few tense moments of conversing, the lone rider appeared to be struck, or run through, and suddenly he dropped off the side of his horse.

It was like looking through someone's journey.

It was something that she was very obviously not supposed to see and Winifred pressed her hand to the glass, staring. Eyes wide. Just what was going on? She had no idea who it was but the second she saw the person fall from the horse she ran. No one just fell off a horse. Maybe bad balance. Still, there could be broken bones. Cuts. Bruises.

Skirts picked up in one arm, she rushed through the house, heart pounding. It was a blur before she made it to the collapsed person, on her knees into the dewy grass. "Can you move?" She panted, cheeks flushed, hands moving to help the person up. Who would go riding this early? Why? "Are you bleeding?"

The groan would be familiar, as would the dark curls that escaped from beneath the hood as Leif Arrant looked up at her.
"Winifred-" He coughed. Wincing, he clutched at his wound. "You... you shouldn't be here."

He had been left to die. The men were still at large and, still very much in view. "Go... run back to the castle," he urged her, body shaking from the pain. "Go.. and go... NOW!"

He said her name.

That sent a shock through her and she felt herself tremble. Winifred felt tears in her eyes - fear? Panic? She shook her head, surely there couldn't be two awful days in a row.  Winifred's voice lowered into a whisper and she nodded her head. "I'll be back. Very soon, with people that can help you." She whispered before she ducked away quickly and ran back to the castle, keeping a watch for those men that had left him to die.

They had left right?

They wouldn't come back to slit his throat... Right?

She was right on most accounts, but the riders had returned, the pair of them blocking her from getting back to Duke Arrant's keep.

Curse the damn mordecai.

Winifred looked over her shoulder at him and since she couldn't go forward the least she could do was protect what last moments she could of her... Not Friend. A dark look covered her features and she stood there in her nightgown and the borrowed fancy housecoat. "How may I help you, Gentlemen?" She spoke loudly - perhaps too loudly - and did her best not to look as scared as she felt.

"Seems to me you're in the wrong place, miss," one of the men said with a sneer. "And are an unlucky bitch." The man drew out his crossbow, which he was beginning to load.  He aimed it at her. "You should have stayed inside."

Winifred nodded, "yeah, it looks that way. Do you intend to shoot or just wave it at me?" She smiled again, lifting her eyebrows up, "cant say if this will make my week worse but we can see."

"Who are you?" the man demanded, keeping a firm grip on his weapon and his eyes never once left her form.

Winifred frowned, "what do you care? Youre going to kill me anyway." A sneer and she moved closer, arms open, an annoyed look on her face.  "Who are you? Maybe then you'll get an answer."

The man she addressed sneered. But he knew not knowing her identity could hurt their mission here.

"Leave her," the other man growled. "The Duke's as good as dead, and she'll have no where to hide come morning." And with a kick to his horse's side, the pair took off into the woods.

"Its already morning, you idiot," she sneered, back straight, shoulders thrown back to make herself look bigger. Scarier. Bravado. Though the instant they were out of sight she collasped down beside Lief, breath coming out quickly.

"Why do you have to be a mordecai?" She whispered accusingly. She ripped at the hole the stab had left, gone to the hem of her night gown and ripped off a chunk of it to mop up the blood. She didnt have any tools.

"Help!" Winifred called, looking at the wound. All the blood. They must have hit a vein. She could fix that. She'd never done it blind before but... "you can't die. Not now. Please. Please?" Another glance around, more pressure on the wound, "Help! The duke is hurt!" The sound of feet and Winifred pointed to the maid that rushed out.

"You! Go to my room and fetch my bag, it should have everything i need," and the girl rushed off and Winifred could only stare at the pale man on the grass. Stare and watch as his blood stained her skin.

A few more burlier servants appeared on sight, and were completely baffled by what they saw.
"I thought Duke Arrant was in his study!"

The other shook his head. "We can't tend to him here! We must get him inside!"

"I'll go fetch a plank of wood. There's a few in the barn." And the man rushed off, just as one of the women came back with Winifred's purse.

"Here," she panted, handing over the leather parcel. "Your.. your bag, my lady."

Winifreds fingers were slippery with blood, shaking her head.

"Theres no time, I have to stop the bleeding," heart pounding she took various metal tools from her bag. Her magic lent her a much clearer image of how the body worked. It wasnt working now of course, but she'd been a doctor and healer for so long...

This was much worse than yesterday.

"Please," she breathed, "Leif," her voice was steady and she gave a relieved sigh when the men came rushing back. Maybe there was time. The servants moved the Duke onto the plank.

"I need him in the brightest room," she commanded and she put her slippery bloody tools away and rushed after them.

Things were situated, but he was going cold. The wound was still bleeding. Threading a needle she got cloths to soak up the blood, made the poor shaky pale made use metal tools to hold open the wound.

Winifred worked quietly and carefully stitching uo the hurts. It was enchanted. To promote healing and stave off infection but would it work? Would it even work? The final draw of stitching was down and Winifred covered the ragged looking wound.

His heart was still beating but it was slow. His flesh was cold and clammy. Winifred sat back, hands still wet, resting them on her legs. He could still pass. Without her magic to help him he could still pass. Go to his wife. Winifred took a careful little breath and wiped at her eyes with her forearm before going and quickly cleaning her hands.

"We should get him somewhere comfortable. I dont know if i was fast enough," because hes a damn mordecai. Why did he have to be a mordecai? The burley servants picked up the plank of wood gently and brought the duke to the nearest bedroom - she wasnt sure which, she just followed and placing him on the bed she watched him for a time. Listening to his breathing before she fell asleep, seated on a chair but her head and arms on the pillow beside his head.

The day came and went, the castle unnaturally quiet. Despite their Duke's status of not being entirely loved by, well, just about anyone, it still felt as if there was a sense of mourning cast over all. But even when checked, the Duke did not stir. But he wasn't dead, that much was clear- and although his breathing was shallow, his skin felt hot, with fever.

Winifred stayed by his side after she woke up, snapping up, eyes wide.

Her hand went to his forehead and she frowned at his fever. Wetting a cloth she went about bathing his neck and upper chest of sweat, leaving one on his forehead. Winifred fell asleep again beside him, waking up to check his temperature and cool the cloth down again. Check his wound for infection.

It was a few hours later that she began to hum the lullaby she and her sister knew. A gentle Adelan one. Winifred felt home sick. She wanted her sister. She wanted to meet her nephew.

"Please Mordecai," She whispered, cupping his cheek and smoothing her finger over his temple, "I can't do this alone."

He trembled in his feverish state, waning in and out of consciousness. Most of what he mumbled was incomprehensible, but after a time, the words seemed to become more clear.

"Valentina.." he struggled, fitful as he sweat. "Valentina... Don't leave." He groaned, still delirious in his fit. "Please.. Valentina, I love you. Be safe..." He groaned. "Please... come home."

And tears rolled down his cheeks slowly, softly, subtly, as they bled into his sweat.

Winifred sighed, looking pained. Her hand didnt move, stroking his cheek and temple. Changing the cloth to try and bring down the fever. Valentina. It was a beautiful name.

What made her leave? A sympathetic look to the man and she strokes her thumb along his temple, sighing gently. A few moments passed and Winifred wishing the same. She wanted his wife to come back. Take care of her husband.

"Fever dreams are always the worst," she said softly, " I'm sorry i cant fix you."

"Never be sorry," he croaked through another dream.

Winifred froze, blinking at him.

"I can be sorry for this," she whispered, shaking her head. Usually she left family members to stay with the fevered patients. All she needed to do was wait for the fever to break. Should she tell the servants to prepare a cold bath? A little while longer. If no change...  then. Cool bath.

It seemed the Duke would not awake, and suffered more shivering spells. Though still heated, he appeared to be reacting as if he were cold, and his sleep- ever more fitful, with more grunts and groans and agonizing murmurs of the past, and fears yet to come.

As the day grew on, Winifted grew worried and irate.

"Prepare a bath," she ordered, dont heat the water. Winifred went about stripping the duke - it wouldnt be worth getting his clothes wet. The tub was brought in and with the help of a servant they lowered Leif into the tub, Winifred behind him.

The water was a shock , a little colder than room temperature. And while the duke was naked - she'd ordered the other servants out - she was full dressed, still in the night gown. Just a few minutes of this. Then back in the bed.

The water was cool enough that after a few moments soak, it was at room temperature, and so felt him. His breathing still remained, but his heart beat was strong. It seemed, for now, the fever had subsided.

Winifred kept him in the water a few moments longer and she gently removed him from the tub. Anger helping her move the man to his bed where she dried him off and tuckes him in and it was irritation that led her to rifle through his closet to find a plain shirt and a loose pair of pants.

Hair fluffed up and damn, Fred waited, seated beside the bed. Irritated. Afraid. She wasnt about to let the person who saved her die or fall even more ill.

It hurt to open his eyes and his voice was raspy and barely there as he groaned. The world was dark. Or was he blind? Either way, any movement made shot pain throughout his entire body, which was soon followed by an attempt to sit up and a guttural groan.

A cool hand pressed against his chest and she did her best to keep her voice soft and soothing. "Don't move, you've been hurt," Winifred pressed the back of her hand to his cheek to check his temperature before she smoothed a hand through his hair, "can you talk? You've had a bad fever, I've been doing my best to helo you be comfortable."

His lips cracked into a snarl.
"A fever?" It felt far worse than that.

Winifred sighed and tilted her head.

"You were also wounded, quite badly," The words 'you're lucky to be alive' lingered on her tongue but she resisted. He wouldn't think so, she imagined, and it would just raise his ire. The man was already angry enough at a base level, no doubt anymore anger would just give him another fever or make his wounds bleed anew.

"Men on horses. They chased you here and left you for dead," She tilted her head, "Another scar to add to your collection." She licked her lips and pushed her hair from his face, shoulders slumped, "But you're awake and that's good news, are you thirsty? "

Leif groaned through cracked lips before barring his teeth like an angered dog. Were he still not in such a state, it was clear he'd be after those men that did this. He moved, but soon bawked at the wounds and doubled over. He saw the patch work and swallowed back a growl. But the man was still seething.

"Attacked.." he repeated the words dryly as he closed his eyes. His mind flashed back to it. His hands tightened into fists.
But after a moment, he opened his eyes and turned to her- and despite the anger there, he spat out his concern.
"You... They didn't harm you, did they?" his gaze remained fixed on her, hardening into an almost lethal stare.

A moment to open her mouth. Perhaps to explain how or whom attacked - or explain that she knew nothing. Had only been a bystander. No doubt they would have thought he'd bleed out before a doctor could attend to him. No doubt they'd expect news of Leif's death any day now. Would they be disappointed, she wondered.  The game of politics was dangerous, it seemed and Winifred reached forward to shush him and try to help him relax because moving was bad right now and...

His concern caught her off guard and she blinked at him with wide gold eyes.

"I... Me?" She pointed to herself, dumb founded. Of course he'd been concerned. She was here, wasn't she? Winifred chewed on her lower lip, not sure how to react to this. Not sure how to reply to his vocal concern. "I'm fine," She finally said, trying not to smile at least a little at how angrily he'd displayed his concern.

"I only got there in time for them to threaten me," She said simply, "I wouldn't be able to describe them to you, they were in front of the rising sun, it was quite bright." Winifred reached and grabbed a cup of water sitting on the bedside table and held it out to him, "Sip. I don't want you getting sick, it wouldn't feel nice and I don't think you want vomit on your blankets."

Leif scowled and snatched the drink away, spilling some as he drank it before coughing over it. His throat was so dry, it was hard to get the water down. But after his spell, he tried again and finished the entire glass. Wincing, because even that short movement took a toll on him, he grimaced as he looked down at the bandages.

"Looks like they were going in for the kill."
And it would have worked. His eyes shifted to Winnie's.

"I take it you were my doctor."

Clearly this man did things just to be a pain. All she did when he started to cough was sit back and fold her arms over her chest, giving him a smug, unamused look. Winifred gave a small nod when he made his claim that they had been trying to kill him. No doubt.

"Yes," She said, looking back at the bandage, "of course." A simple eyebrow raised, "I was a fine doctor before I wore a dress. Did you ever doubt my ability?"

He looked at her with a bit of a scowl, but it was more out of irritation from the pain than her jab.
"It feels like you stitched me up with iron thread." the pain was pretty intense.

Winifred gave a few small nods and tilted her head, giving him a slow blink.

"You do recall moving rather vigorously just now," She motioned to the glass, now empty. "But, I suppose, if you want me to take out the stitches I can." She licked her lips, rolled her shoulders and moved to stand up, "I just need to get some scissors and something to grab the thread with." She smiled then, reaching over to gently pat his arm, "You can stitch yourself up, clearly you do very clean work." The sarcasm was heavy, but the teasing smile on her face helped the lighten it.

He had this instinct to want to punch her. But with held it. It wouldn't do either any good. She was being annoying-
Like a sister.
Which reminded him of his older sister and....
He wondered.. had he done the right thing with Attie? He sent her away, to be with a priest against mages no less, to someone working with the very people who had tortured her.... for safe keeping. He hated the idea of it but even he knew how close Attie and Merrick had been.

At least now she had the option to find her own freedom. but what of he?
And his stare, Fred might notice, grew rather serious and distant.

Winifred noticed.

An unconscious, wholly feminine movement, Winifred went to tuck her hair behind her ear. A brief look of betrayal at her hand and a gentle frown to Leif. She found that she disliked how this man knew she was... A she. Winifred had never been a woman before. Not really. Never felt like one. This man made her conscious of that fact. Made her aware of the fact that she was... Entirely a woman.

It disturbed her that she was attracted to him.

Not because he was unattractive, but because she'd managed to go through her whole life without wanting to...

"Probably the dress," She muttered to herself, looking away. Then she looked back to Leif and she tilted her head, looking concerned.

"I'm not actually going to pull out the stitches, but Leif, you really shouldn't move too much. The stitches will just feel worse or they could rip," Winifred sighed, "If you weren't a mordecai I could have healed you in one go, but... You are so, you get stitches."

He snorted.
"And you intend for me to just sit around?"

Winifred looked confused.

"Yes. Actually, I do," her tone was no nonsense and she wished she was wearing a suit. People always took her more seriously in a suit. "We can bring any paperwork you need to do to you. At the very least don't move around much."

She obviously didn't know him too well.
"Whoever it was that did this... they can't know I've suffered so harshly." He moved, grunting, as if going to stand. "I will not lay around idly and let them think they've won." Though winning, naturally, would have been to succeed in killing him. No, he'd rather get right up and let these men know he wasn't so easy to kill.

Winifred frowned deeply and didnt hide rolling her eyes.

"You were stabbed and left for dead, Leif." She repeated, before she crossed her arms over her chest, "you being alive at all will be unexpected. Can't you just rest? Please?"

He just glared at her and gave a cold, "No." And there he was, standing up and hobbling towards the door.

Winifred's mouth hung open.

Did he just say no?

To her?!

Winifred stood up, moving in front of him, shoulders back. Chin out. "You're free to do whatever you like if you can move me. Without grunting."

He cut her a glare, baring his teeth, which flashed white behind curling lips.
"Move aside."

There was a moment and Winifred flashed her teeth back, chin up and glaring her golden glare. "Make me."

He just continued his cold stare and attempted to shove clean past her. His shoudle rmight not have been injured, even if the rest of him wasn't. And he was no weak fool-
Perhaps a fool to challenge his injuries, but weak? He felt that was a state of mind. And he managed, at least to get to the door and grab the handle- swallowing back pain as the wounds protested at his every step.

"What are you trying to prove?" Winifred growled, grabbing his wrist, "you're not even dressed, Leif. You... what. Plan on knocking on doors? Sending an angry letter? Two days of bedrest. Thats all I ask. Not as... some woman in your house but as someone who masquaraded as a man to be an actual doctor." Winifred shifted slightly to move in front of him, "you'll do more harm than good with the state you're in."

His eyes cut her like a sword.
"You know not my enemies." Two days... they'd know it would take that long but if he were back on his feet just a day after the mortal attempts.... It would have his enemies second guessing just who, and what they were dealing with. After all, it was done in secret, and there was much power in a whisper.

Winifred sighed before taking a side step.

"Just... come to me every night. Please. " then she frowned,  flushing, "so that I can check on your wounds. I mean."

Leif paused, tensing before casting her a glare.
"I'm not leaving this place," he seethed and looked back down the hall. "I am to be present, be active; but I'm not about to instigate them with unnecessary jabs." Just surviving was enough, and he did have work to  do- work he could at least do at home.
"Maybe that will make you less ill at ease." And he moved down the hall, towards his study.

A sigh of relief.

"Good to know you aren't a complete idiot," Winifred muttered under her breath. On the cusp of loud enough to hear but quiet enough to be not quite sure if those were the words. Winifred watched him, shaking her head.

Man had a death wish. 

"That makes me much less worried of you ripping yourself open, yes." A bright smile and Winifred moved down the hall with him, keeping an eye on him. She supposed if he could pretend to be fine long enough to make it down the hall way then he could pretend to be fune enough to work.

"Do you always work in such a state of dress?"

"Does it matter my state?" he grumbled, but he was wearing not much but his patches. "I can call for a servant. Simple clothing." he wasn't dumb enough to desire irritating his wounds.

Winifred smirked.

"Just checking. Seems scandelous for a man to wander around shirtless." She watched his back, perhaps a little inappropriately enchanted by the way his muscled played on his back.

He cut her a look.
"Seems scandalous for a woman to pretend to be a man."
A low jab, but even his ego felt injured, vulnerable.

Winifred grinned wide and moved to walk beside Lief and give him a sidelong look. "I suppose we both have secret identities," she said softly, smile fading away, "though it seems I'm stuck in mine."

Leif internally shivered at her remark. Not many knew about his mask. He kept his eyes averted.
"And I might never dawn mine again."

Winifred had made sure that, at least the halls were clear before her comment, but she watched his face, curious. Perhaps angry. If he hadn't appeared, that night probably would have gone much more different and she took a deep breath before she gave a small nod. "Want to trade places?" She finally asked, meaning it in jest out loud but... Deep down, she'd give anything to go back to her little clinic. Pretend to be a man. Help the sick and the poor. The wounded.

"You wouldn't know how to rule a duchy," he growled.

The growl, for some reason, made her grin. Winifred decided that anger was a good emotion. It meant he wasn't apathetic, which would be dangerous to anyone. She herself was desperately trying to keep herself from being so, and if that meant being a bit of an antagonist... Well, her new friend would just have to suffer for it... Until he found out at least.

"I'm sure I could learn," A tilt of her head, "I know a lot about medicine, so, I'm hardly stupid. Didn't you see my library? You think there was a book in there I hadn't read?" Winifred smiled before it melted into a frown and she looked down and away, "I'm going to miss my library. Do you have one? I could probably just live in there if you did."

"I do, and maybe you should," came his graveled reply.

Winifred brightened, "You do? That's wonderful news, Lief." A look around, "You're doing well enough," She nodded to his wound, "We should get you drunk more, you're a little nicer full of alcohol, I think."

He stopped, turned, and glared at her.
"My disposition has nothing to do with alcohol, or even your presence here." He gave her a look over before it appeared as if he was silently snorting at just her presence alone. She needed to know that. He was this way ever since he chose to be...
And despite the fact it was mostly to spite his own father and his father was now dead....
Some habits were hard ones to kill.

Winifred met the glare head on, watching his face turn.

"So you're always a grump," Winifred gave a few nods, before smiling, "That's good. I'd be terribly bored if you eventually lightened up." A nod to the hallway, "Show me your study, Lief, I'm interested in seeing where you work." She looked to his scars after a moment, "And have you ever read up on any medicine, you have fairly good sewing work for doing it yourself."

"Who said I worked in a study? Maybe I find peace and concentration in the family grave," was his cold reply, but even still, he continued to guide her, not too many more doors down before he walked into a broad room with two stories within, the second leading up to a library, one that began on the first floor walls and continued to the second. There were narrow, mahogany stair ways that lead to various sections. And the room itself, was warmly lit.

Was that a job?

Winifred wasn't sure if that was a joke but she lifted both eyebrows and looked at Leif with surprise. Maybe a joke? Finally, when they were in study, golden eyes looked up with wonder and she did a quick twirl to take in everything. A surprised look to her patron and she blinked at him with wide eyes. Why did he ever want to leave this room? It was amazing.

"Well," Winifred said softly, wonder still on her face, "I'm jealous. May I come in here without you? To raid your library?"

A snarl curled across his lips.
"You can come in here so long as you don't plan on stealing anything," came his reply with some bite.

A bright smile.

It felt nice to smile.

"Is it still stealing if I have every intention of bringing it back?" She inquired, eyes bright. Winifred chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, head tilted before she nodded into the study. "I promise to leave everything where I've found it."

He gave her a stern look.
"Even if you were to steal it," he went on, taking a seat on a posh desk nestled in the back corner. "Where would you take it?" He gave her a look before going about lighting the candles on his desk. She was meant to stay at his place, after all.

Winifred grinned widely, watching him move.

Surprised and impressed by how easily it seemed to be even though he was still recovering. Of course she winced watching him move and unconsciously put her hand to her side. Unfortunate mordecai abilities.  "I... Would take it..." Winifred pursed her lips, "To the room I'm staying in?" A small shrug, "Don't worry, Leif, I don't plan on taking any of your books." She moved towards one of the shelves, a finger gently hovering over the spines as she scanned them, "how long did it take to collect all these?" She asked in wonder, her own library at home had taken probably a good number of generations. Medical texts. Stories. Just... Knowledge written down.

"I must say, I'm impressed, My Lord."

Leif was well adapted at keeping most pain, or any other emotions, for that matter, well masked. But he did take the time now to study her as she went on, still in awe of his place. He supposed he never had a chance to think too much into how well off he had it, or his family line as he told her simply, even a little irritably, "I wouldn't know. I never added to the collection. I was born into it."

Winifred was impressed, her eyebrows went up and she nodded. Then, she plucked a book from the shelf and moved to the nearest sit, sitting cross legged on it and placing the book in her lap. "I'll be here if you need me," she flicked Leif a look before letting herself be consumed with the book.

And he was consumed in his word, hours passing with him intensely reading, scribbling over words, tossing paper out, and starting over. It seemed he had a pile of parchment stacked beside him that he was slowly making his way through. But as the hours passed, he appeared no less intense at his work- but it weighed on him internally until he finally set his quill down and sighed, leaning back in his chair to rub at the kink forming in his neck.

As distracted as Leif was with his reading, Winifred was immersed in the book.

It was an interesting text. History. Winifred hadn't been paying attention history of what and she couldn't really recognize the names but it was fascinating and all the sounds of paper had been drowned out until... A chair movement.

Golden eyes bright, Winifred looked up sharply, tense and a bit like a mouse. Ready to flee.

Right. She was safe here.

Her hair, however, was standing near on end from how she'd been holding her head and Winifred slowly closed the book before she tucked it aside on the chair and stood up. Of course she hadn't noticed the hair. "How's the wound?" She asked softly, walking over after giving a quick stretch, "And have you read all of these or do you just ... Look at them?"

He frowned as he leaned back in his chair and gave a rubbing pinch to his nose.
"I don't want to talk about books." He was tired. He finally looked it and now had a subtle ink smear across his nose.

Winifred sighed and nodded, looking up at him and...

She snorted.

A grin and she rested her hands on her hips and walked towards the desk, a little smile on her lips and her head tilted. "Well, did you want to talk about anything else? Maybe..." She rubbed the bridge of her own nose, "find something to clean that with? Though it gives you a dashing scholarly look. Covered all in ink like that."

Leif gave her an unamused look and moved to wipe at his nose and saw the ink and scowled. He saw the ink staining his fingers and removed his kerchief and attempted to wipe himself up.

"I suppose it's time well enough to retire." He wiped enough of hte ink up but  he knew he'd need soap and water to get rid of it all. He stood up from his chair and glanced over at Fred.

"I trust you can handle yourself for the rest of the evening?" he didn't want to admit that he infact, needed more sleep after all the wounds he sustained, and hobbled a bit as he made his way towards the door, snuffing out the candles as he went.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Fred grinned widely at the scowly look on Leif's face. A bright smile that reached her eyes, she just tilted her head and watched him try to cean it off in vain.

Winifred smiled, "Of course. Im an intelligent individual," a tilt of her head and she hovered behind Leif as he hobbled to the door. "At least let me walk you to your room," she said softly, " for my own peace of mind."

Leif paused to cut her a look.
"I'll escort you to your own room."
That was the way of things and that was how it would be. He didn't like being fussed over. He lived too many years rebellion against that for him not to do so now.

Fred sighed and looked away for a moment.

"Very well," She said simply, remembering while they were walking why she hated skirts. Why so much fabric? Was there a problem with legs? Fred frowned while they walked and finally, there was her room. The appointed room at least. Clean as a whistle and she supposed she could bathe. A moments pause and she looked to Leif, eyed his chest and frowned at the scars.

"You're a very strong man," She said simply, "Make sure you clean your wound," And she went into the room and shut the door. Sighing long and ducking her head down. It wouldn't do well to find the man attractive. Not when there was so much at stake. Not when... Fred's hand trembled for a moment and she pressed them to her abdomen... No. Couldn't think about that.

It didn't take long for Fred to sneak out of her room and return to the study, pilfering a few more books before requesting a light and sitting on the bed. Fred read until dawn, consuming the books, simply so she wouldn't have to think. It wasn't the noise of the maids coming to wake her for breakfast that finally got her out of the bed. It had been a few weeks since...

It was the sickness that greeted her after she moved. A fate worse than death it seemed. Fred was hunched over the chamber pot, eyes closed and trembling before she stood up and covered her face. A forlorn look at the books and she gave a shaky sigh. Still trembling slightly, she cleaned herself up and snuck the books back to the study, leaning against a wall, head ducked down, fighting another wave of sickness. She'd have to tell Leif. He brought her here and... Fred couldn't help the quick sob before she covered her mouth and crouched in the hallway to cry as silently as she could.

Leif had been up early that day, reading through a letter he had gotten through.. questionable means. It was addressed to his alter ego, The Masked Mordecai. The masked vigilante hadn't shown his face since the death of his wife, nor the sudden disappearance of his side kick- and friend. No, that was the last straw- when the Duke of Allar was dethroned by the very man who put him there to appease the masses that wanted blood on the throne of Allar, not just some symbolic brother who was blamed for the sudden rise of mage out breaks in the land.

Audric Molneaux was at least a smart man, and he knew he took to hiding and in a way that meant he might never see the man again. Audric had been one of the few people he respected and actually liked, and was the only one, his wife aside, whom knew of his alter ego.

But there had been silence, many years of it, at least two.

Now this.

He stuffed the letter aside and went to breakfast, and broodingly poked at his cooling fried eggs and poutily sipped at his bitter, bitter coffee as he looked at the windows, not daring to even touch his pancakes.

After the sickness passed, Winifred went back to the assigned room and changed. Today she needed comfort.

Today she went through her things and found the stash of pants and a man's shirt in her back. It wasn't a painstaking process but ... Fred was afraid and this was a good security blanket. Slicking back her hair, she fixed her collar and cuffs and smoothed her shirt over her front. Without a binding her breasts were, well... Breasts and she sighed when she looked at herself in the mirror.

Maybe go back to the study to read?

Swallowing carefully, Fred took to exploring the house. Maybe find some food. Did she trust her stomach to hold down food? Maybe. It was there she found Leif, golden eyes wide while she watched... Was he pouting?

was it bad news?

"Is everything okay?" Her voice wasn't disguised, but she stood in the door way dressed like a man. Ignoring the double-takes some of the maids did when they saw her, "You look... Distressed."

"A funny question to ask during times of war." His half scowl remained, and he didn't bother to look at her when she entered.

Fred tried not to roll her eyes.

"More than usual," she rephrased, "Usually you just have that crease between your eyebrows. Now you have your lips all turned down." A small shrug and she seated herself at the table, taking a deep breath. "There's something important I need to tell you. The reason why I'm here at all."

He really didn't want to have to deal with anymore of her antics, and as he paused to finally look at her, he made a face, realizing she was back in men's clothing. then he looked at her face.
"What is it?" the words came out more of a scowl than a question.

The eye contact was hard.

Fred took a deep breath. He'd seen her while it happened. He'd saved her. The words felt like lead in her gut and sand in her mouth. Her golden eyes swam and after a moment she blew the breath out and took another deep shaky one. "I think I might be p..." swallowing, "I was sick this morning. I have... I don't..." Fred closed her eyes, pressing her hands to her gut, "I think I might be pregnant. I know enough about medicine and I saw my sister go through it to know." A glance to Leif and she nodded once and after having spoken, she pushed her chair from the table and stood up, "Thank you for your time."

Leif stared at her, hard. It wasn't that they weren't unaware that this could happen, but before they were treading water.. and simply waiting to see.

"So you're showing signs of a potential pregnancy." He set his jaw and mused over the presented information carefully. "You'd only be under a month along." Still eight more months to go.. and she wouldn't be showing for another two or three months easily. Unless she was unfortunate enough to have twins.

He regarded her as she stood.

"So why are you just standing there?" Was that all she really wanted to say? That was a huge rock to swallow, and at the moment, what else much could he say? She was only here because of this possibility. At least their time butting heads was not in vein.

"You should sit down and we should talk."
Because if what she said was true, this wasn't something that could just be dismissed.

Winifred gave pause.

A glance over her shoulder to Leif and she sighed heavily, weary already, before she returned to the table to sit down. "What is there to talk about?" She whispered, very much wanting to just push everything away and not deal with the situation at hand.

Leif kept his glare hard, his eyes never leaving hers.
"For starters, our situation is less than ideal and the proposed facade may have to become an expedited reality."

Winifred closed her eyes and rested her hands on her hips. There was too much to think about. Too much to process. Currently, the only comfort she had was the fact she had pants on and if it weren't for her damnable breasts she'd look every part a beautiful man.

"I appreciate your help in all this, truly." Did she though? As Leif kept eye contact, Fred didn't waver. What possibly should have been intimidating felt comfortable. A lifeline. Here was the only other person in the whole world that knew. Maybe he didn't want to be a rock, but Fred was grasping at every metaphorical clump of grass and rock she could wrap her fingers around.

"In the end, no matter what, I'll be able to take care of myself. I've done so this long. Have a child. Go back. Be..." Fred sighed, looking down at herself. Tears of anger and anxiety welled up in her eyes and she moved her hands from her hips to her head, fingers pushing through the combed back hair. "My Lord," Fred said, moving a hand as if to rest on his shoulder before pulling it back and letting it drop to her side, "I am yours to command and you're my patient. So, let's check on your wound, off with the shirt."

If Leif flinched at any of those ideas, he didn't show it. In fact, if anything, as the discussion continued, he just appeared to grow more annoyed.
"You need to be so thorough of a doctor?"
Was it a gripe? Perhaps, but he was tired, irritable- But then again, when was he not? He had a lot on his plate...

However, he knew this man- woman- long enough to know they wouldn't give up so easily- and he was a bit too exhausted to fight it. So he sighed, irritably, and began to unbutton his shirt before casting it into a heap upon the floor, exposing his body littered with scars- and most notably, the fresh new one. They gave his body character, marring other wise a perfect form from noble breeding- But he was a Duke after all..... the good looks, physique...
Perhaps even that arrogance too-
It all ran in the family, deep within his blood.

Blood...
Which was now seeping from what should have been healing wound-
It almost seemed as if he had opened it in front of her on purpose, but he said nothing, didn't even try to look at it as the blood warmed and dribbled down his skin.

The comment made her bristle. "I'd be a bad one if I wasn't thorough," Fred frowned, hands resting on her hips while she impatiently tapped her fingers against the fabric of her pants while he unbuttoned his shirt. More bristling when it was on a heap on the floor and she quickly bent down to pick it up, folding it quickly on the way upright.

Of course he was bleeding.

There was a beat of silence before Fred simply sighed and pressed her hands to the unbloodied flesh around the wound. It wasn't hot, which was a good sign. It was open though, which means he hadn't been taking it easy at all.

"How do you manage to open a wound doing nothing," Her hands went to her pockets, finding a rolled up bit of cloth she could use as a bandage. As much as she would enjoy ruining Leif's shirt with his own stupidity, she resisted and instead placed the shirt off to the side and made-do with the bandage, pressing it to his wound to sop up the blood and put pressure on it.

"Hold this to it," She took one of his hands and pressed it against her own before slipping her hand away, "And follow me to my room. Do I need to put you on bed rest? Or perhaps you want to die from your wound being open and dirty?" Fred sneered over her shoulder while walking, "either way. Come along and get comfortable." While going through the hall, a maid eyed Fred up and down, dressed like the man she wanted to be able to hide as again, "Can you get me a bowl of hot water please? Your master has gotten himself an unfortunate cut from... Opening mail."

Fred continued, hand at Leif's elbow to drag him along, before she opened the door to her room and basically dragged him in, "No. Do you want to do this the hard way or the easy way?"

His scowl never once faltered, but a sneer may have curled up along the edges as they walked. He held the make do bandage in place and kept quiet over her comment on how she told the maid he hurt himself.

If looks could kill...

But she was dragging him to her room, of all places, and he merely obliged because...
He wasn't sure. Probably because he was just tired. He took a chair and lifted the cloth to look at it.

"You know I can handle this myself."

Ah, the statue spoke.

Winifred smirked at him before going over to her kit and collecting the various bits and bob she'd need to patch him up.

"of course you can handle it yourself," she said nonchalantly, like they were having a conversation about him putting his own sugar into a breakfast tea. "Look how well you've handled it so far," she fluttered her fingers at his current state, topless, sitting on a chair and bleeding.

The maid walked in with a small basin of steaming water and Fred motioned the girl to put it on an empty table not far from where Leif was seated. When the girl left, Fred closed the door.

"If you could handle it yourself you wouldn't even be in this state," was her final comment before she grabbed a cloth and dunked it into the water, hissing slightly at the pain from how hot the water was. Fred moved back over to Leif, moving his hands out of her way before she began to clean around the wound. Again.

After glancing at the door to make sure it was closed for sure, she gently cleaned the wound and examined it, "You know, for someone who can 'handle themselves' you sure do have a lot of scars."  Fred smiled brightly up at Leif, kneeling as she was to examine him better.

Leif hadn't much stared at the woman as she went to work, just watching her here and there as she went to close the door. But then at her last comment, he lifted his eyes to her- a storm brewing within.

"I'm not dead, am I?"

Fred chuckled, her hands gentle at his wound. As tempting as it was, it was against her nature to be malicious and hurtful on purpose.

"My dear, that is a very low bar." Not being dead. Pah.

"You should take better care of yourself," she said softly, standing up and putting the bloodied cloth beside the basin of hot water. Dipping her hands into it again to wash off any blood, she grabbed a padded cloth before dumping a salve onto it and grabbed another length of cloth.

The wound was awkward enough that stitches would be more a hindrance and he'd pop them and then require more medical aid. "Unless, of course, that's what your secret intentions are. Not being dead is an incredibly difficult thing to be sometimes." Fred worked silently, placing the cloth on his would before leaning forward and urging him to lean closer. She had to move close to wrap it around him properly, her breath was probably hot on his shoulder while she clinically wrapped him up.

Leif all but rolled his eyes.
"Most of the Duchy would be happier without me. There's already a long line of vultures to take over once my body is fed to the crows."
He huffed. She was close enough that she too, might have felt his hot breath on her as well.

The contact was nice. Inappropriate, but nice.

Fred leaned back, her hands resting on his sides while she examined her handiwork and made sure that the bandages were tight and the chances of there being another bloody mess were lessened.

"Is that how funerals work in your duchy? Be eaten by crows?" Fred asked, curious, her voice gentle and teasing.

Leif's eyes seemed to grow daggers.
"Most would say that's too good of a funeral for me." He looked away, eyes restlessly finding a portrait on the wall. He frowned. Of course there was some fancy painting in here of his father. And he knew the wall behind him had one of his grandfather.

No walls would hold a painting of him. The few paintings that were of him were when he was younger. He didn't even care to remember what had become of those.

There was a pause and Fred watched Leif for a moment.

"Why's that?" Genuine curiosity before she followed his gaze to the portrait of a man. "Leif, are you the black sheep of your family? Such a hostile gaze towards a painting."

Leif looked her dead in the eyes at her comment. His look held much weight.
But then he spoke.
"Are we done here?"

A wide grin and she stood up, crossing her arms over her chest and tilted her head to the side. A chunk of her bangs fall across her face and gave her a haphazard look that would befit a doctor that worked all night. Unfortunately, Fred was simply tired and stressed out. At least poking the hornets nest that was this gentleman added some fun into her day.

"I don't know. Are we? You could have left at any time, you are the lord here." Fred took a step back, eyebrows up and smiled.

Leif let out a heated sigh.
"I remember a certain pushy doctor..." he went on, standing up and searching for his shirt. "Being pushy."

There was a certain delight in irritating someone who quietly deserved it.

Fred rested her hands on her hips and moved to the table where she'd placed his shirt, holding it out to him to put back on. "Hm, I can't think of who that might have been. I'm the only doctor here." She said pointedly looking at his wound with her eyes flicking to his various other scars. "Good thing you followed their instructions though, hm? They seem like a very intelligent individual."

His eyes kept to her as he buttoned up his shirt. Turning, he headed for the door. He wasn't about to announce he was headed for an Ansgar's forsaken bath..
And just some time to brood alone.

Fred sighed and let her head duck down, feeling a little awkward all of a sudden.

"Have a good rest of your day my lord," she said gently, closing the door quietly when he finally left her room. Here was to hoping he had some sense to not reopen his wound.

It was unlikely though.

He wasn't sure how long he stared at the wall, but he felt numb and the water- chilled. The bath had started off scalding, and despite the maids warnings not to get into the bath right away since she boiled it as he commanded, he stepped into the waters and just let it singe his flesh.

The pain, though not comfortable, was comforting enough. But he should bleed more, feel more pain than just the water redding his flesh.

He didn't bother with any soap- he wasn't here to bathe. And though the waters were high, he somehow kept most of his bandages from falling prey to too much of the steaming waters.

But how long could one simply stare at the walls? Stare at one block on the ceiling above? It was deeper night fall by the times the winds outside picked up, and the faint rumble of thunder could be heard. He closed his eyes a moment, opening them only when he thought he heard a stirring, and stared at the door as a flash of lightning illuminated a form....

Fred spend the rest of the day restless. To go from being busy every day from dawn until to dusk to having... Time. The weight of pretending gone from her shoulders. Several times through the day she'd find books to read, she'd inquire about the Lord's whereabouts from the maids when dinner was brought by and finally when it started to get dark Fred found herself chewing on her lip and looking at the door.

While she was sure he was fine - a man grown, capable of taking care of himself - when she inquired yet again about the whereabouts of the lord of the house, they said he was still taking a bath. While they'd probably been good at following orders - to not bother him - Fred felt no such need to follow the instruction. There were really only two options.

One, being that he'd gone out again. Another that he'd falling asleep in the bath, likely ruining his bandages. Fred's hair was a fluffy mess from her running her fingers through the short locks all day, so she gathered the supplies to rebandage Leif or at least leave them out for him when he got back from his adventure.

Fred was tired, but a doctor. She'd found herself in the doorway, pushing it open and glaring into the room just as a flash of lightning flashed on her from, followed by a window shaking boom of thunder. Fred jumped, head snapping to the window before she sighed and walked into the room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust but she spotted the lord and was surprised. "I expected you to be outside doing... " she wiggled her fingers at him, " things."

She put her bag down a little ways into the room and stood beside the bath, hands on her hips looking down, "Are you stuck? The water must be cold by now." A hand reached out, "come out now, no doubt I need to change your bandages."

"Most others knock on closed doors out of propriety and respect," came his voice, tartly. He eyed the woman's form as he remained in the bath, giving a roll of his eyes at her orders. He didn't bother to fight or retort, simply rose from the bath, waters gushing down his form as he stepped from the tub.

He walked past her, enough some of his scented waters would have sprayed lightly on her as he moved as he hefted up a towel and began to rustle it through his hair.

"Most others," Fred agreed, "but I imagine most others don't know some things about you. Sometimes you don't have time for propriety or respect." She gave him a once over while he walked, noticing scars and old wounds. Fred followed him, moving to stand in front of him and while he dried his hair her hands were poking and prodding at the bandages to see if they'd gotten wet or were bleeding through. Her hand rested close to the wounds to feel if they were overly warm.

"Have you been feeling sick at all?" Fred asked, her hand moving up to rest on his cheek before shoving it behind the towel to rest against his forehead, "too Warm? I wanted to check on you before I went to sleep. I'd hate for you to get an infection." Which wasn't obvious, because she was still fully dressed and didn't look like she'd been going to go to sleep at all.

Leif had so many snide little retorts for his doctor but held his tongue. No doubt the gleam in his eyes would give him away.
But as she continued to inspect him, he frowned and began to dry off the rest of his body, uncaring he was more or less naked before her.
"I'm fine," came his heated reply, which then cooled as he sighed through his nose. "I mean I feel fine. " he paused before adding, "Irritated and sore."

Then he wrapped a towel around his waist for whatever modesty he probably should afford the other as he glanced away and towards the window.

"Irritated as in the wounds or irritated as in emotionally," Fred said, hands still on his face before she decided he was a good temperature and let her hands down. Though her eyes were active and looking for bruises or cuts. The fact he was still naked from the bath wasnt lost on her, she'd just not cared.

Him standing in a towel made him seem more naked than standing in the nude. Fred cleared her throat and looked at his face before following his gaze and looking at the window. "I..." Fred took a step back, "am sure I'm the cause of the irritation. Aren't I." A sigh, and she took a breath, "is there something interesting going in outside?"

He turned his gaze towards her and gave her a look, but when realization settled in, he shook his head.
"I'm anxious." The reply neither denying nor confirming her words.

Fred nodded, understanding anxiety like it was a second skin. "Did you want to talk about it? It might make the anxiety palatable if its turned into words." Fred turned to look at Leif and gave him a sad little half smile, "you already know all mine. The fact that you havent been treating me any differently has helped me. Maybe I can do the same for you."

Did he wish to talk?

No.

Atleast not now, not to them, and the more he didn't, the more there would be to say. And he hated talking. Atleast when he had to do it more than he wished. No.. there was too much to say.

Instead, he kept his gaze level at a wall.and sighed hotly through his nose. Fred's problems certainly added to his own, in an expeditious way, however...
It wasn't their fault and complaining about the number of problems on his plate would only serve to anger him further.

So, instead of saying nothing, which was a tempting reply, he simply growled. "Now isn't the time to talk about taxes.:

Fred smiled, a quirk of her lips to the side and an eyebrow rose. "Taxes?" She said, moving a hand to her hip and leaning slightly in a comfortable stance. "Taxes have you in this sour of a mood?" Fred tapped at her lower lip for a moment, "more likely this is a normal mood." She sighed and reached to give whatever uninjured part of his arm was around to squeeze gently.

"I can read between the lines," she smiled, "so I'll let you be. For now. I'll come check on your bandages in the morning." Fred took a step back and gave a polite nod, "have a good nice and sleep well, Leif." And fred made her way to the door to go back to her bedroom.

Before Winifred could leave, he had his back to her, eyes rolling before he closed them and snarled a little, "A drink.  A stiff drink will help me rest."

He moved to dress in a dark green robe and tied it loosely across his front.

"You should join me in getting drunk."

He didn't wait for a response as he brushed past her and towards the study.

An invitation?

Fred looked over her shoulder and watched him breeze past her. A sipping whiskey at the end of the night sometimes after a rough day was her vice. She recalled the decanter beside her desk in Medina's sewing room. Fred reading and relaxing and Medina working on some design or another long into the night.

"It would be my pleasure, " Fred said, voice a little husky sounding at the memory. Fred quickly caught pace with Leif and reflected Duke a moment, entertainment flashing on her face. She was still fully dressed, the best over the loose fitting shirt tucked into pants and wearing well shined shoes. Fred was all business looking still, except for the fluffy short hair.

"You'll forgive me if I can't keep up, of course" she said, amused.

Was that a snort? It was hard to tell.
"The night's young."
He pushed the door open to his study and made his way towards a long desk. He reached around and fetched a bottle from a drawer before producing two glasses, handing one to Winifred. He filled her cup first before his own abd raised it in a mild salute before knocking back the entire thing in a few great gulps.

Then he poured himself another.

Fred held the glass and mulled over it for a moment, giving it a smell before taking a sip. And then knocking it back, licking her lips and holding out her own glass. "Not bad stuff," she said holding the glass out again. She could get rip roaring drunk. Maybe she'd finally sleep. "What's the occasion?"

Leif poured more into both their glasses.  He lifted his without much emphasis and said, "We're still alive." He gestured towards her and knocked back drink number 2.

Fred stared down at her glass, spinning it between her palms for a moment and watching how the liquid moved.

"Rather unfortunate, that." She quipped before knocking back the second glass. It was fire in her belly and made her jaw tingle and saliva fill her mouth, a sigh out and Winifred put down the glass as a silent indicator for more.

"You know, now that I think about it," Fred frowned and leaned with one hip against the desk, "I dont think I've been drunk before. I always stopped when I started to feel warm." Fred didn't mention she believed it was her natural healing magic that kept her from the worst of alcohol.

"Do you see the sunrise and wish you were dead?" Her voice was soft, contemplative and she traced the rim of her glass with her fingertip, "I do. I havent slept in days. Before that all I could do was sleep. When I wasnt working or tending to patients, I was tired and sleeping. " A sigh and she continued, unprompted but it was pouring out if her like fluff from an overstuffed pillow.

Fred didnt wait to be served the third glass, instead she grabbed Leif's hand to keep his glass steady to pour it into his cup and then poured her own, which was quickly swallowed. "Medina and I were going to raise her baby together. She was so excited. I'd be the doting uncle. We came up with an excuse on why there was no father. We were good at keeping out abilities secret and just being... normal." Fred sighed, looking down at herself, lower lip between her teeth. The pants that rested on long legs, the polished shoes, the loose fitting shirt tucked into pants.

"I have nothing now. I have no home. My sister is gone." Fred's hand tightened around the glass, "I lived the way I did for her and for what! So she can pretend I dont exist the second some man can give her an orgasm." Fred poured herself a fourth drink, "a man who wants her dead! How romantic."

"And you!" Fred turned her attention to Leif, "you're just an angry asshole who pretends to not be the complete bleeding heart you are. You dont smile. You dont laugh. You mope all the fucking time. You lash out at people who dont deserve it, which is me." Fred continued, another glass of drink, "you don't have the good grace to trust me! Me! My life is ruined because of you and you can't even let down the real mask. Even a little bit." Which stung. "What are you so afraid of by being my friend? I took you into my home despite your obviousness because you needed help. And look what happened. The least you can do is be fucking nice to me."

Fred grabbed Leifs glass and filled it again before pouring herself a fifth drink and swallowing that back.

There was a quiet numbness to the air, one that stretched between the pair tangibly. The weighted atmosphere was strange, precarious and unseen, and Duke Arrant found himself without the grace of words.

To be fair, Fred was right. He hadn't been exactly trusting, but then again he never was. The stoneyness of his countenance had been so wrought to his form it was affixed to every part of his being. Sober or not, he wasn't a trusting man, nor gentle, nor outwardly gracious. If anything he was vicious and passionate and full of so much stocked heat.

He hadn't bothered to look at the other as he simply poured himself another drink, and knocked it back, swallowing thick and slow to pull on the burn. Then he went for another.

No answer. No acknowledgement. Nothing.

Winifred frowned, her short hair falling into her eyes while she glared, and glared and glared. Like her amber eyes were molten gold and wanting to burn holes through Liefs skull.

Her palm shot out and she moved it to cover the rim of his cup when he put his glass down to pour more drink into it. "You dont get to pretend I dont exist, Leif. Look at me," Fred demanded, only a little wobbly from the alcohol. Wobbly and irrationally angry at being ignored.

Fred didn't have to demand. The moment the alcohol was cut off fro mhim, Leif's eyes met to her's. His own heat smoldered, but so did something else- an open, broken echo to something deeper.. more brittle, something that was still bound up and knit tightly with hate.
Hurt. And the glint was deep, nearly hidden, but still very much there.

Was this the first time they'd made eye contact?

Fred felt herself shift slightly, wanting to look away but unable to. It took a lot to unnerve her but she felt butterflies in her stomach and she had to force her gaze to remain. "What," she demanded, hand unmoving, "You have nothing to say? You get beat and brutalized and broken as some masked figure but you treat me like disguising myself as a man makes me worse than you."

Her nostrils flared and she moved her hand from his glass to his wrist where she squeezed, "you're just committing slow suicide, aren't you. I'm sorry, Leif, but its against every bone in my body to let you do that. You'll have to send me home if you want to continue with your collection."

At that remark, the look shifted.
"You're mistaken if you think you get special treatment, " he assured her. "This whole world is full of Fucks ups and the two humans in this room aren't any different ."
Slowly his eyes shifted to where she held his wrist.

"Do you think this will stop me?" He tensed,  but didn't jerk his hand away. And his intense green eyes returned to her's.

A fuck up.

Fred kept her grip for a moment, wanting to be stubborn and make her point but the fuel of the raging angry fire that boiled in her belly was taken away. Like he was made of ice, Fred let go of Leifs wrist and stared into his eyes.

"Every single terrible thing that has happened to me, is because I was too busy putting my safety, my wants, my needs aside for someone else so I could take care of theirs. So, my apologies for being a fuck up, Duke, and apologies for accepting what I thought was help," Fred took a step back, stumbling slightly and pausing when the room spun.

It was a wobbly step, but she moved to exit the room, "careful of your wounds, don't sleep on your stomach and have a nice life." She glared before taking a step away and removing the jacket she had on over her shirt, "by the way, this is yours," she threw it on the ground, "I borrowed it." before she continued walking out of the room.

In her wake, she might have heard him pouring himself that other glass. Dead. He might as well be. The only reason he'd ever found a purpose was...

He nearly choked on the burn of the alcohol. Thoughts of his late wife returning to him. She had been too young.. too good for him.. fir this world...

Yet she had loved him.. somehow found a way to love the cold,  hard heart of the Duke of Castavar.

He stumbled out of the room and down the hall,bottle in one hand, glass loose in the other. He tossed back the second glass and let his hands touch at his neck...
No.. he removed that key.

He removed...

He suddenly slammed his fist into the nearest wall. Then again and again until the rage boiled up and he smashed his glass and bottle to the ground and stormed off to his room.

Whatever storm has brewed inside the Duke seemed to be brewing outside as well,and he paused Overtop the chest of drawers furtherest from his bed and stared. A mirror lined one side, a mirror he hadn't looked into since that Day.. since that damn night of her death and...

Bloodied, drunken fingers trembled as they moved, out of blind reflex than anything else,  along the ornate golden rim, along the back to trail just a few inches in...

The key...
He felt it, secured it, and slipped it ouf, holding it within his hand as lightning flashed to reveal its truth within his grasp.

Her key.