Night Watch I: Eliza, Ward of Andrew

*Eliza’s POV*

I managed to get off just as I heard Andrew letting out a low, throaty groan out back. It was kind of sexy-sounding, and at first I almost fell right out of the basin, my knees got so weak as I panted with the sponge between my legs, thoughts of my brooding warden in my head. But then I realized that the poor guy was either passing a stone, or perhaps had a urinary tract infection. Ugh, that poor fucker! He was heartbroken, and his dick was burning? Or perhaps he had a sexually transmitted infection, though it seemed unlikely, he didn't seem like a 'fuck the pain away' kind of guy . I finished washing up, dried off, and dressed in my bizarre ensemble as quickly as I could.

Andrew walked in just as I pulled on my vest. He grabbed a plain set of gauntlets and started buckling them on. “Andrew?”

“Yeah?” He was clearly on automatic pilot, efficient, quick. It spoke volumes- Andrew was obviously a workaholic. He armed himself without even having to really even look at what he was doing.

“I don’t have a sword. Do you have one you could spare until tomorrow?” He grimaced. Oooh shit, he was one of those! I knew, plain as day, he had a rack full of so many weapons, that it would be physically impossible for him to arm himself with them all at once, or even to carry them all in a sack. I doubted I could have carried them all at once either. I was pretty sure I'd seen a handful of swords, and he sure as shit didn't need them all. But I didn’t look at the rack with its carefully stored implements of death, I didn’t want to seem presumptuous or irritate him- I just looked at Andrew.

Andrew frowned, muttering to himself, tapping his foot for a few seconds, running his hands through his hair.He glanced at me, shook his head, went over to the rack, and started muttering quietly to himself and as he started considering different items and rejecting them one by one. I could make out occasional expletives and filthy curses. I noted to myself that it was of greatest importance to get my own sword, apparently even more so than clothes, and to never ask Andrew to borrow one of his children/beloved boyfriends/or however he related to them again.

Andrew let out a big sigh and looked resigned. He grabbed a little leather sheath for a dagger, but no dagger, and no sword. Eh? I kept a card-player's face, Andrew looked intense. He came over to me and gave me a look, briefly, like I had just pissed in the punch at a party. “Here.” He reached in his boot and pulled out his dagger. I certainly didn’t want to accept it, but I didn’t want to offend him, so I timidly held out my hand, and he slapped the hilt in my palm, along with the little sheath.

“I, uh, thank you, I will give it back tomorrow, Andrew…” He was unbuckling his scabbard. What the fuck?

“Can you actually use a sword?” I nodded, worried. “Good. Then you will keep both of those until you have weapons of your own, and we have spoken to Blasko about a battleax.” He looked at me as he held out the scabbard with his sword in it, as I hesitated, then snorted. “I’m not angry with you, Eliza.” He gestured to me impatiently. I took the scabbard, putting it on after considerable adjustment. “You can attach the dagger in its sheath here.” He pointed to a spot before walking off- how clever!

I was busy attaching the dagger’s sheath to the scabbard for a few moments. I turned to find Andrew at the far end of the room. One of the boxes of his lover’s things was open on the floor. Andrew was sheathing a very willowy, deadly looking sword, which hadn’t come from the rack, in what was presumably his dead partner’s scabbard. He looked at it for a moment, and I saw his hands were trembling as he buckled it on. Oh shit, what the fuck had I done?

Notes

oops. sorry i posted a chapter twice, i think it's fixed now. thank you all for the kind words. i know my other stories are more popular, but i have a bunch of this one written, so i thought i might as well post some of it.