Of Witches And Wolves | M. Helvar ✐

07 | Sit With Me

The cell was dark again. With night came the cold. It was miserable for both of them. Matthias felt hot and cold, he was sweating but terribly clammy. His head throbbed painfully as he tried to sleep away the aches.

"Why are you twitching like that, Helvar?" Rowan's voice cut through the ebony covering the room.

He sighed in response. Matthias knew that irritated Rowan but he didn't care. His body felt incredibly weak.

"...Matthias?" Rowan asked, they sounded closer than before. He flinched in surprise when their face came into the moonlight. "You look like a dead man, what is happening?" Their eyes flitted across his face, concern inside the darkness of them.

"Just cold," He answered somberly.

Rowan laughed dryly, "Fjerdans do not get cold," They mocked Matthias' voice with a sly smile, clearly trying to better his mood.

The boy rolled his eyes tiredly, "You're not funny," He mumbled, eyes rolling backwards slowly.

They quickly grabbed the sides of his head and forced it upright, "Oi, look at me," Their hands were incredibly warm and he loved it, "Open your eyes, now." The chains around their wrists pushed against his chest but he didn't mind. "You look ill, did you eat the bread they threw in here?"

He shrugged and Rowan grunted in frustration.

Matthias heard the sound of hands patting the concrete floor, Rowan searched in the dark for the "bread" that was tossed in each morning. Something clattered and Rowan exclaimed, "Found it," Their face fell, "Matthias, you didn't."

He suddenly remembered breaking a piece off into his mouth without thinking. The hunger had won and he lost. It was his fault he was so ill all of a sudden. "I didn't think."

"Damn right you didn't, I'm sure they put some sort of... rat poison in this shite." Rowan sniffed the hard rock of bread and cringed, "God it smells horrible."

"It tasted horrible," He coughed and grabbed his chest.

Rowan scrambled to his side. "What can I do?" They choked out, fearing the idiot Drüskelle in front of them might die after all.

He reached for their arm, "Sit with me." And so they did.

Suddenly his world was on fire, everything was burning in front of him and Matthias was powerless to stop it. He tried moving but a weight held him down on the hard floor. Even his eyes were sealed shut. It took a moment for him to realize why he was feeling so warm. Rowan. Their head was hanging between them as they leaned against Matthias' form.

Rowan looked unbothered in their sleep, Matthias found it to be an interesting sight. He forced himself to endure the sudden temperature change so they could rest. Despite being otherwise oblivious, Matthias knew how Rowan hardly slept anymore. They would nod off all the time even during the day but would never admit to feeling tired.

Matthias guessed that Rowan not being able to use their abilities only worsened their condition. They even looked tired physically. Besides the bags under their eyes the pair shared, Rowan's shoulders didn't sit as highly, nor did their head naturally tilt upward anymore. They were hanging on by a thread and he hated it.

If he hadn't said something to that damned guard they would be well on their way to wherever Rowan even wanted to go. Matthias only knew he was to get them out of Fjerda and send them on their way. But things never truly go as planned. The young man accepted that long ago but still felt irritated by the turn of events.

How silly was it that untrained men managed to subdue a Grisha. To Matthias, it was unheard of. But the more time he spent with Rowan, the more stories he learned were lies.

"No matter how old or young, a Grisha should be put down regardless of their age. They are born evil, they breed it, and they thrive on it. This is why we, the holy Drüskelle exist. We are here to right this world and its wrongs with Djel by our side. We are not killing nor are we murdering. Grisha are not alive, they are merely mirroring what people look like so that they may gain sympathy. So they may continue poisoning innocents. But we see through that facade–"

Jarl Brum's teachings were still engraved in Matthias' mind. He could not escape the ramblings and brutal retellings he grew up hearing. Brum was never easy, he would quiz Matthias constantly. Asking when the first Drüskelle order was created and why they began hunting Grisha. By the age of 13, Matthias was practically an encyclopedia. He hated it.

Not even Jarl's son was forced to memorize Drüskelle history as Matthias was. He never learned why his father figure made such a point of teaching Matthias so thoroughly.