X. Tangled Hearts

Elva had always been a light sleeper, but her senses seemed to be more heightened than before.

Being away from home and having her life threatened had something to do with that.

Her eyes fluttered open to the sound of shuffling and, unmistakably, Eksel’s groans.

Of course, she still thought he was Agnar, for no one had told her differently.

She could tell instantly that it was him, for the sound of his discomfort, of his pain, remained fresh in her mind from the day before.

As she opened her eyes and her sight came into focus, she realized she was staring right at Eksel’s bare back. He was hunched over, slowly rolling himself straight as he groaned under his breath. He was stretching out his back, and it hurt him. Elva stared until the details became visible.

She saw the angry red wound from the arrow, though it was mostly patched up. What made her tense was the scars she had seen earlier.

There was a criss cross of them. Long, deep and ragged scars. She propped herself on her elbow as her eyes filled with sorrow. For a moment she let herself imagine the pain he must have gone through.

Maybe that is why she found him scowling and grumbling to himself.

She questioned if the hatred in his eyes and the anger that seemed to vibrate through him was because if his past and not directed at her. But she quickly snuffed that down, telling herself she needed not let her thoughts go wild.

Her chest bursted in another wave of sorrow, but it was tinged with anger. Who could have done this to him? And why? Surely no one ever deserved such disfigurement.

She sat up more and Eksel froze.

He sighed, slowly turning around to face her.

Elva quickly shifted her eyes from his chest to his eyes and he knew that once again she had seen the horrid mess that was his back.

It only seemed to anger him more. How he wished that she would have never seen that part of him. Surely she must be disgusted.

He looked in her eyes he saw the tender compassion in them. His heart hammered in his chest and his frown softened for a moment. If she looked at him like that he wondered what other emotions for him stirred in her heart. It was relief to see that she felt something other than fear, other than disgust.

“I don’t need your pity, Elva.” He growled, hardening himself again.

Elva was taken aback from his comment, not sure how to answer. She shifted uncomfortably, looking around the tent. He was still looking at her with a scowl and she wanted to avoid his gaze for as long as she could.

“I don’t pity you...I’m- I’m just sorry...” Her voice was soft, barely audible.

He inhaled sharply, turning his face from her. It was only then that she gathered enough courage to look at him. His hands were in fists beside his thighs, and his shoulders heaved up and down with every sharp breath he took.

She shivered, noticing even more painful looking scars that ran the length of his chest and stomach. He was covered in old lacerations. Elva gripped the skins beneath her, grounding herself so her emotions wouldn't take over.

His jaw clenched and how she wished for him to look at her.

Moments passed before he did, but he was frowning, much to Elva’s distaste.

"I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t in pain. Sorry won’t change anything,” He growled.

His eyes shifted between hers, his frown only deepening. The memories seemed to be resurfacing, as he looked distant. His eyes were looking in her direction but it he wasn't actually seeing her.

Elva heard the anger in his voice, and she understood that it came from pain. She knew what pain felt like and she wanted to make it stop.

She slowly pushed herself to her knees, and patted the spot on the floor in front of her. And again, she muttered the one simple, quiet word.

“Please.”

Eksel was weak. He could not hold his resolve against her for even one night. He not only craved to be near her and her touch, but his body begged to be released from the pain it was in.

His shoulders fell as he decided to do as she asked. He took a few steps forward before kneeling down in front of her. Elva gave him a small smile as she put her hands on his shoulders and softly pushed and pulled on them to get him to turn around.

He shuffled in the silence, sitting in front of her, his butt flat on the floor so that he could lower himself more. He brought his knees in front of him, the soles of his feet flat on the floor. He rested his forearms on his knees and tensed as he waited for her touch.

Elva took a second to look over his back again and tears almost escaping her eyes as she took in the sight of the ghastly scars. She took her fingers and traced some of the lines, which caused him to tense, a groan vibrating through his throat.

Her touch was like a drug to him and it caused his body to react. She slowly began to knead the scars, applying pressure where she thought it would help him the best.

Eksel began to feel prickles in his head and a wave of satisfaction rolled through his body. He had forgotten what it meant, what it felt like, to not be overwhelmed with pain.

Even in this crippling state, he was a fierce warrior, feared by anyone who heard his name.The truth is, he had to become a fierce warrior, he had to learn to kill. It was the only way he could escape the abuse. He had to be the one to end it.

And he did.

“They’re from my father,” He uttered the words before he could stop himself.

Elva didn’t know how to respond. Her lips parted and her brows furrowed as her hands stilled. She tensed for a second, not understanding how a father could do this to his own son.

She decided that there were no words that existed that could express her sorrow. Instead, she resumed the movement of her fingers.

“He would beat me and whip me whenever I did something he didn’t like, and when my brother messed up, too,” He let out a chuckle filled with resentment.

"H-he would hit you for your bother's misdoings?"

Eksel inhaled and nodded, "They weren't my brother's misdoings in my father's eyes. I was the bad influence."

He wound his fingers together, biting his lip. He had never told anyone of the torment he had faced at the hands of his father. Agnar was the only one that knew of the terror that he faced every night.

Something about Elva made him want to spill all of his secrets, all of his past, all of his pain.

"Why?” Her voice was breathy, the sound of nectar to Eksel’s ears.

Eksel shook his head, “He was-is the golden child. He looks more like our mother, and he was always father’s favorite. He couldn’t be marred. Not like me. I was expendable.”

His voice was heavy, filled with an anger that Elva could not even begin to measure. She was confused with his words. She still thought he was Agnar, the heir to the lands. How was he expendable? She decided to save the question for another time. She was enjoying they intimacy they were sharing.

He sighed as he rolled his head back, closing his eyes. He took in deep breaths, “Your touch. Nothing else takes the pain away.”

Elva smiled at the small compliment, “I wouldn’t mind doing this every night for you.”

Her voice was sweet, caring and, again, hopeful. Now, Eksel was confused. He frowned at her words. Surely she knew that they would not be able to see each other every night once they got home? He shrugged it off, though, not wanting to disrupt what was happening.

She reached a particularly nasty scar and a knot formed in her throat. The wound must've been deep and the recovery must've taken months.

A cry shuddered through her and Eksel turned, perplexed by the sound that came from her lips. His eyes followed the tears that filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry for me, I’m not worth it," He mumbled, not liking the apprehension that took root in his chest.

He was causing her pain, causing her to cry. His heart thumped louder in his chest as he took in her form. She was breathtaking, sweet and caring. Everything he was not. He reached out and wiped the tear with the pad of his thumb.

Elva shuddered against his touch, looking into his eyes wondering how he could think he was not worth it. His touch was so gentle with her, his eyes so dark and full of care.

"I'm no one," He whispered.

Elva shifted toward him, close enough to feel the warmth of his body, "You are someone to me."

Eksel seemed to snap out of the moment. He leaned back and stood up, grunting as he did. He inhaled slowly through his nostrils and managed to put his shirt back on.

Elva watched with wide eyes, her heart sinking to her stomach. Had she done something wrong?

“Wh-where are you going?”

He looked down at her, “I’ll sleep outside, it helps me keep watch better. You have the tent to yourself.”

He left the tent before she could say anything and she laid back down on the skins, trying to come to terms with this night of intimacy they shared.

He had been so sweet and gentle with her in between those moments of pain and anger. She couldn't hold that against him, not after seeing all the hurt he had gone through. It was obvious that he cared to some degree and the through made her stomach come alive.

Maybe she could love this man.

His face clouded her mind and her cheeks reddened when she remembered how he eyed her lips earlier. She wondered when he would finally kiss her and decided that whenever that happened, she would not stop him.