Chapter Text
The last thing Allanon saw before the world went black was his daughter. The daughter he had only known for a few weeks, but was already willing to sell the world for. He cursed his magic for making him miss her childhood, but was thankful for the time he had had with her. Mareth had learned so quickly, and her gift was stronger than he had thought; if only he had more time. Fate had other ideas, instead he was doomed to leave, having only a glimpse of the wonderful woman she was bound to become.
____________________________________________________________________________
Alyssa was looking forward to her evening, she had pizza rolls in the back with her groceries and then newest season of Game of Thrones downloaded on her laptop. She sighed as she pulled in the driveway. There was going to be time to relax, but she had to bring the multitude of bags up the stairs first. She had just made it to the top of the stairs with the first load and was fumbling with her keys, when she saw a flash of light from inside. Dropping her bags she grasped the thick walking stick she kept next to the door. Finding the proper key she flung the door open, brandishing he stick like a club; only to be greeted by darkness. Still wary she flipped on the lights, and gasped at the sight before her. There laying on her living room floor was a man. She walked forward carefully, holding her weapon in front of her. As she got closer she realized that he was injured, and she jumped into action.
Throwing away the walking stick Alyssa knelt to check his pulse. It was weak, but still there. His breaths were coming in short weak gasps. She glanced at her phone, but decided against a 911 call. She was to far out for the ambulance to reach in time. She pulled his shirt away from the wound and inspected it closely. The edges were jagged and torn, it was as if someone had ripped through him. The skin around it had turned a sickly yellow, with veins of infection threading out from it. “What the fuck happened to you?” she cursed and grabbed her bag. She pulled a small vial out of a pocket containing a viscous blue liquid. Using her teeth she pulled the cork out and poured it into the gaping hole. The man’s body convulsed, as if electrocuted and she stepped back and waited it out. Slowly the bleeding stopped and infected tendrils dissipated. She knelt back down and rubbed her hands together. “Ok, good, now to the nitty gritty.” she ran down the hallway and retrieved a med kit from closet. Using the scissors his shirt was cut away. She was able to inspect it more clearly now. Satisfied that whatever he had been stabbed with had missed his heart, she set to work stitching him up. After almost an hour of work she had to roll him over, it was a struggle, but eventually she succeeded. “What do you eat? You way a ton buddy!” slowly she stitched the hole in his back together and declared her work finished. “Now I have to figure out how to get you upstairs and into the spare bed” glancing around she saw nothing that would help her.
“Well shit. This will have to be the old fashioned way won’t it?” shaking her head, she wrapped some bandages around the stitches, and set to work slowly dragging him up the flight of stairs. It took nearly an hour, but she succeeded in dragging a man nearly twice her size up 14 steps. “And now I have to get you on the bed…… lets see…” she maneuvered him so that he has sitting against the wall and using her legs as leverage managed to heave his upper body onto the mattress. Then she moved his legs on. It was easier to roll him over on the soft surface, and she simply tucked the blankets around him and then her task was done. “ You know, I don’t normally keep handsome strangers I find passed out on my floor, especially if they've bled on it. So I expect you to start talking back here soon.” satisfied that he was secure she walked back downstairs to retrieve her groceries, leaving the door open in case he needed assistance.
When she reached the door she sighed. The 4 bags she had been carrying had been scattered all over the porch when she dropped them, the packages of chicken and pork sausages had defrosted and most likely were bad by now. She collected the items carefully, she noted that the pizza rolls were undamaged. After bringing up the rest of them and putting them away in their respective cabinets, she set to work making her cheesy dinner. After the rolls were in the oven she grabbed a bowl of warm water and a few old dish towels and went up to clean some of the gore off of her unexpected guest. She paused halfway up the stairs, remembering that he could still be dangerous. Setting her materials on the step she returned to grab a kitchen knife. Tucking it in the belt of her jeans, she set to work cleaning some of the blood off of his chest. She studied him as she went, taking not of the multitude of scars that littered his body, ranging from small and benigne to near fatal. One particular burn on the left side of his chest just under his armpit, seemed recent, it had to still hurt. She made a note to make a potion for it. She had just set to cleaning some of the grime of off his face when he stirred, brows furrowing in pain. His lips moved, forming what seemed to be words, but she couldn’t make them out. She deemed it a side effect of the potion and set back to work. She set the bowl down after finishing her task, and studied his face.
He was younger than she had thought, but he clearly had had a hard life. Traces of silver in his beard and by his temples attested to that, as well as the worry lines near his eyes, and the creases around his mouth that could only have been formed from frowning. The beeping of the oven roused her out of her musings. It alerted him too. Faster than she could have blinked his hand shot out from under the covers and closed around her throat. His eyes were wild with panic and pain. “Please.” She tried to pry his hand away, but he held tight. Panic set in as the edges of her vision blurred. Suddenly she remembered the knife in her belt, she scrambled to pull it loose, nearly dropping it in her haste. Grabbing the handle she pressed it against his throat. “Let go” her voice was less demanding than she had hoped, but the press of the steel had the desired effect. He released her and froze, his eyes still darted around, as if trying to find an escape route. She nearly dropped to the ground as she sucked in a grateful breath. She considered leaving the knife where it was, but decided that she could move faster than him. He had simply caught her unaware. She slowly moved so that he could see her set the knife down on the nightstand. He looked like a cornered animal, panic clear on his features. She put her hands in the air, a universal sign of ‘I mean you no harm’
“I’m not going to hurt you.” her tone was gentle, and it seemed to calm him a little “I’m the one who stitched you up.” he glanced down at the bandages that cover his chest. Then looked back up at her.
“Where am I” his voice sounded like gravel.
“You're in my spare bedroom, I found you passed out in my living room, bleeding to death.” she lowered her hands.
“How long have I been here?” She looked at the clock above his head.
“About 5 hours now, it took me a while to patch you up.” his eyes went wide.
“5 hours? That is impossible, it has to have been a few days at least?” his hand jumped to the bandages, only for him to wince and lower it again.
“That is a long story, I’ll explain later. Right now, you’d probably like a glass of water and some pain meds, right?” he gave her a confused look. “We’ll start with the water” she stepped out onto the landing and grabbed a bottle of water from the package by the stairs. Setting it on the nightstand, she moved to help him into a sitting position when he stopped her. “If you move wrong, you’ll tear out your stitches, yes I know I just met you, but you need to let me help you.” reluctantly he nodded. It took a bit, but she helped him up, by the end he was sweating, and in considerable pain. Though he tried not to show it. Alyssa grabbed a few spare pillows from the closet, and propped them up behind him. “There, now is that more comfortable?” he nodded again. “Good, now you drink this, and I’ll go get you something for the pain.” she turned to leave, and then caught a whiff of smoke. “Mother FUCKER! MY PIZZA ROLLS!!!” she rushed downstairs, and had to put her dinner in the sink. Cursing to herself, she went and rummaged around in her cupboard for something that would both ease his pain and help him sleep. Finally she found a vial filled with a purple liquid. When she returned upstairs, he had finished the bottle of water. She grabbed a second one and emptied the vial into it. “Drink this.” he eyed the now pink bottle suspiciously.
“What is that?”
“It’s a potion that will help with the pain, and make you sleep.”
“Potion?”
“Yes, I’ll explain later. Now drink, sleeping makes you heal faster, and the faster you heal, the sooner I can ask you how the fuck you ended up in my living room.” scowling he took the bottle, downing it in a few seconds. He almost immediately felt its effects. The burning pain in his chest dulled to a minor ache, and his eyes started drooping. “Good. Now you should probably sleep in this position, so you don't twist so much. Do you need any more pillows?” he shook his head. Suddenly his brows furrowed in confusion.
“That, that potion, it was magic?” her eyes blew wide.
“How did you know that?” her question fell on deaf ears. The potion had kicked in, and he was snoring softly. She shook her head, and headed back downstairs. Wondering to herself exactly what she had gotten herself into.