Chapter 5 – A Penchant For Potions
Part 4: A Phial Full of Revenge

Dinner was quiet. Azurine said nothing. Ienarath said nothing. Silas dared not say anything. And when everyone was done, they each retreated to their respected places; Azurine and Silas by the fire and Ienarath to her room.

In her room, Ienarath continued to work on the potion she had started earlier; the one that her aunt wanted cleaned up. It had cooked long enough, but now needed to sit for a day. It was a bright red color, but would become less vibrant, and more potent, over time. At least that was what she was expecting.

The next day was no less tense. Azurine and Ienarath were still not speaking to one another. It was only later that day, over dinner, that Ienarath decided to break the silence.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was upset. I never knew my mother. Or my father, although I sort of remember some things about him. He was funny. I remember that. And very nice. I remember that, too. Oh, and I remember his eyes…they were a brilliant red-orange, and beautiful.

“You never talk about them. Why?”

Silas looked up, and Azurine’s face softened. “Oh, sweetheart. We meant to, many times, but, well, the time never seemed right.”

That evening, Silas and Azurine told Ienarath all about her parents, and Ienarath hung on every word. Afterwards, she had mixed feelings about her parents, at least the account that her aunt and uncle gave. Her mother seemed very gifted magically, but Ienarath never got the impression that she ever used her gifts to their fullest potential. And her father was a stoic man, but lacked ambition, or so she thought. She was not convinced that things would be any different had they lived. She’d still be stuck in Windhelm and still have to contend with the slow witted boys and the foolish, jealous girls.

As she listened to her aunt and uncle’s stories, she reflected on her situation. The others kids seemed years behind her and her aunt was clearly holding her back in her alchemy lessons and couldn’t teach her anything about magic, it would seem that her mother got all of that talent. But Ienarath knew in her heart that she had gotten both. She didn’t how she knew it, but she did. It was then that she made up her mind. She had to leave, and the sooner the better. But before she could leave, there was some unfinished business that needed her attention. She smirked slightly to herself. 

It was late when Ienarath finally got up and went to her room, but before she did, she stopped and addressed her aunt. “Thank you. You too, uncle Silas,” she added quickly, with a smile.

Silas only smiled back, while Azurine replied, “you’re welcome, dear.”

“Oh. I almost forgot.” Ienarath said suddenly. “Aunt Azurine? Do you have any bees wax?”

“I think so, why?” 

“Oh, I’m just trying out a new potion, but I’m afraid it might stain, but I know if I put bees wax on first, it won’t.”

“What are you up to, Iena?” Asked Azurine as she began to open her alchemy satchel.

“Oh, nothing,” smiled Ienarath.

“Here, then. But don’t use it all.”

“I won’t.” Ienarath turned and went into her room and closed the door. Her eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, and on her face she wore a frightening grin, all made worse by the shadows that danced across her face.

The next day, Azurine asked Ienarath why she was up so early. Ienarath said she wanted to go to the market and then down to the river and look for nirn root, but then, as they were leaving, she said that she had forgot something and went back inside. She watched for a moment, and when her aunt was gone, she quickly grabbed a bag that she had packed the night before out from under her bed. Then she went to her aunt’s satchel. “Ah, here it is,” she said, and pulled out a mirror. Stuffing the mirror into her pack, Ienarath headed to the market.

It was early, and the vendors were still setting up for the day. The bookseller, who knew Ienarath well, greeted her warmly as Ienarath came over to her. "Good morning, dear. What can I get for you today?"

"Do you have any blank journals?" Ienarath asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do! I only have a couple, though. Let me see...ah, here they are. Have a look."

Ienarath looked at the books, and without hesitation, grabbed one. "This one." Although new, the leather cover was a bit worn from rubbing up against various other things over time. The cover was a deep wine color, and had a flap that kept it shut. The fastener on the flap was gold in color...and on the front, stamped in gold that matched the clasp, was a decorative 'I'.

"Would you look at that!" Exclaimed the bookseller, and then continued with a smile. "I'd say that's destiny and worth parting with for only a septim."

Ienarath smiled and handed her a septim. By this time the streets were begining to come alive, and she knew Garn would be out and about soon. She placed the journal in her bag and then found a quiet corner away from the marketplace, but near to where she knew Garn would turn up.

Using the mirror she had taken, she began to spread, in liberal amounts, bees wax all over her lips. Satisfied that they were covered completely, she opened a small phial she had in her pocket. It contained a dull red liquid, and using a swab, she very carefully applied some to her bottom lip. Smiling wickedly, she put the phial back in her pocket, grabbed her bag, and left to meet Garn.

***

“Hey, Garn,” she said when Garn showed up.

“What do you want,” scoffed Garn, his friends stopping behind him.

“Well, I figured that maybe I wasn’t being very nice lately, and I wanted to make it up to you. What do say, you want to kiss and make-up?” Ienarath smiled broadly, inviting the boy over.

“Do it, man,” his friends said, chiding him on. Grinning, Garn walked confidently over and took Ienarath by the shoulders and kissed her. To his surprise, she leaned into him. She kept her lips pursed tight, and let Garn slobber all over her. He even licked her. When they parted, Ienarath quickly wiped her lips with a damp cloth she had been holding onto. Once satisfied that her face was clean, she looked at Garn. She could see that Garn had a reddish stain all over his lips and was grinning like an idiot from ear to ear. 

“I’ll see you later, Garn,” she said sweetly, before running off.

Later that day, Garn began to feel sick, shortly after he began to vomit blood. By sunset, he was dead.

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