When Orynn had finally managed to pick himself up off the floor, Eromaug had already left. He chirruped angrily at the now closed door and winced as he pushed himself up, tentatively stretching his back and rolling his shoulders to ease the ache from the impact.
He hated Eromaug and his cronies with a passion. Ever since he and his siblings were torn from their mother he had vowed to find a way to free his family and it seemed that now, with his mother's bonded close at hand, that this might finally be within reach.
He huffed to himself lightly as he made his way over to where the pretty little witchling was propped against the pillows and carefully lifted her, taking great care not to wake her as he carried her through to the only room that had been prepared with at least some level of home comforts.
Very carefully, he peeled back the duvet on the bed and laid her down, covering her with the sheets and standing back to smile in satisfaction.
He didn't know what this little one had been through, but he could help both her and Lexi however they needed it.
Orynn reached for the decanter on the bedside table and poured a glass of water, just in case she woke and was thirsty and quietly slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him.
He set about clearing another room that had been used for storage, dusting off the furniture and grumbling at the imp-prints that were clear in the dust.
Eromaug thought that they were helpless and there was no way for them to escape him, but little did that arrogant, despicable bastard know that he had a plan. His mother had been planning her escape for years and originally, all it would take was for them to get Lexi on board.
However, now he knew that Narcissa held not only her mates but also her mother and her friend, this complicated things and he knew that he would have to speak to his mother again before they moved forward with their plan.
He chirruped in a annoyance to himself as his eyes ran over her wounds from whatever she had been chained with during her time in Narcissa's care, they had been left untreated and the angry redness at the edges of the wounds on her wrists gave him cause for concern.
His eyes drifted over the stomach churning scars that littered her body and his heart ached for her. No one should have to suffer any torment that left them with such lasting scars. He could only imagine the state of her mind.
Finally his eyes settled on the magickal burns to her face and he sighed heavily. It really didn't take much contact with the bars in those cells for them to leave their mark but fortunately, he had just the thing to treat all of her superficial wounds.
He tutted to himself as he bent to pick a small wrapped package from the floor and strode to the bathroom, emptying the contents of the sack into the cabinet and placing the items he was searching for on the sideboard.
Eromaug had been right about one thing though. He wasn't like the majority of his brethren. They had undergone horrific training and subjected to all kinds of torture just to transform them into footsoldiers for Eromaug's army and Orynn couldn't decide whether or not it was a small mercy that he had been selected by Narcissa to assist her in her experiments.
His shoulders slumped slightly as he closed the cabinet door and caught sight of his reflection, his fingers reaching to trace lightly against the foreign, smooth surface of his skin, tinged with an almost ethereal blue hue in places as it receded back into fully formed scales and a crown of his natural horns.
He would never be as nature intended…as his mother intended, but Bella loved all of her children regardless of how they grew up. He peered over his shoulders, wincing at the remnants of his wings, the bony stubs that protruded under his shirt a constant reminder of the utter terror, excruciating pain and soul destroying despair that had ripped through him when Narcissa sawed them off.
Nor had he forgotten the utter horror and revulsion as they were tossed carelessly in a heap at the feet of her bastard of a brother, Ely, to use in his warped experiments in fleshcrafting.
His eyes narrowed as he snatched the small pots of various salves and poultices from the side and stormed through to the bedroom, retrieving a few pieces of gauze and bandage from his supplies and settling on the bed next to where this little witchling lay.
No, he was not like his siblings, he was something entirely different. A half man, half dragon with the magick of his mother and the gift of a rare magick from a benevolent Fae that Bella had begged for help as she inadvertently appeared before her.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he applied the poultices and salves to the angry looking wounds as they tried their best to visit more misery on this witchling…this Aoife.
He could feel the infection recoil from Aoife's wounds, trying to bury deeper into her body, but there would be no respite there for it.
With her wounds to her wrists cleaned, treated and dressed, he laid his hands across the affected areas and closed his eyes, focusing on infusing her with the magick of this Fae, it would chase away any further infection and seek out and annihilate anything that remained in her system.
When he opened his eyes, he turned his attention to the burns on her face and repeated the same actions except this time, there was no need to infuse her with his own magick again…he could already feel the stirrings of her own as he probed within her.
He sat up and nodded with satisfaction as he looked down at her, Aoife's face now significantly more peaceful and relaxed, her breathing steady and even.
He trilled smugly to himself as he pushed off the bed and moved around the living area, continuing to tidy and prepare it just in case Aoife woke anytime soon.
Neither Narcissa nor Eromaug knew anything about his gifted magick, and he had to keep it hidden for as long as possible. It had only been in the last few months that he had learned how to infuse others with his magick, providing them with limited healing and soothing their souls.
The Fae that had provided this gift was an infrequent visitor and never stayed for long. She had already warned that she would not be able to instruct him in it's proper use but that in the future he would assist one that could open his eyes to the possibilities.
He glanced back at Aoife and chirruped lowly to himself. Perhaps it would be this little witchling…one who carried magick herself from an unknown line…perhaps she was the one that he was fated to assist and in return…he could forge his own path in the world outside of this realm.
A half breed, a dragonling, a healer.