#but yeah he's not in prison because of the attempted necromancy it's specifically the damage and injuries he causes

[umbracirrus]

Ok but, Edwyn, the lovesick idiot that he is, attempts to bring Ingja back from the dead. He hoped to return back to Chorrol, with his wife back in his arms, to give Elyse her mother back, but he fucked up. He fucked up bad. He's a brilliant conjurer, and though conjuration has ties to necromancy, he's absolutely terrible at that. He causes major damage as his attempts at spells backfire, people get hurt in the process. He spends a good few years in prison as a result. He kept trying to get in contact with Elyse, to let her know that he fucked up, but his letters never get sent - and when he asks why they haven't, the guards simply shrug him off.

When he is finally released from prison? The only thing he cares about is finding Elyse. He had been so focused on Ingja's death, he had neglected his living daughter who had been grieving just as he had been, and that is what he had quickly realised after being locked up. But when he gets back to Chorrol, there are strangers in his home. Strangers who had lived there for years. All he hears is that Elyse had to sell up, move to Skyrim. So he takes off after her.

And he is so damn confused when he realises that a lot of people in Skyrim seemed to know of Elyse. That she is in Whiterun. He could find her in a place called Dragonsreach. So he goes there.

The first person he speaks to there, of anyone, is Balgruuf. His son-in-law, though he doesn't realise it at the time. He tells him that he's looking for his daughter, and almost gets told to speak to the guards until Balgruuf gets a better look at him - a frazzled and tired and panicked-looking Breton who looked remarkably similar to his wife. And in that exact same moment - a horrified gasp and a quiet whisper of "Dad...?" comes from Elyse, who had just emerged from elsewhere in the palace.

She wasn't happy to see him. And that was like a blade in his heart. His little girl, who he had taught magic to and would listen to him read with eyes filled with curiosity and awe, looked to be in pain in his mere presence. She looked to have seen a ghost. To her, he was a ghost.

So he has no choice but to give her some space. But he lets her know that he isn't going to disappear as he had done again. Unless she wanted him to. He could live with knowing that she was alive, that she had found a place for herself in the world where she felt safe and happy.

He'd dug his metaphorical grave. And he was more than willing to lay in it.

[zarcake-writes]

Silas and Lily

A little different since this isn’t a reader insert. This story features an undead bi cowboy and a female necromancer who is trying to fix him up while helping him adjust to our modern world. Hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: brief mention of spousal abuse and violence

“Shit!”

“Oh, fuck, Silas! Are you ok?”

Silas lets out an annoyed breath as he pushes himself up onto his forearms. “Darlin, do I look ok?”

“Don’t get snappy with me, cowboy, I’m trying to help.”

Silas responds with a huff and mumbles under his breath. Lily says nothing in response to his mumbling, but he knows she’s rolling her eyes. Eye rolling, jaw clenching, and lip biting are three things she does when she’s annoyed. Silas stops mumbling when she pulls his upper body up and helps him onto a nearby chair.

Lily’s familiar, Todd, watches from across the room. Resting in a position that Lily calls a loaf, the long-haired orange cat only looks slightly bored.

“Silas, I know you’re angry, but I told you it would take time to fix your legs,” she said.

“I’m not angry, darlin, I’m just… I’m frustrated. Not use to feeling so weak and useless.”

“I know. Is it ok if I look at them and see what happened?”

Silas nods and motions for Lily to begin her examination. He’s silent as she examines his lower legs. Todd silently approaches and sits beside Lily. She pats the cat’s head. Todd watches what she’s doing, an unnerving intelligence in the cat’s eyes.

While Lily’s attention is on his legs, Silas takes the moment to study her face. The look in her eyes, the furrow of her brow and the way her nose scrunches up, he can’t help but smile. Even as she mutters under her breath, asking herself questions and then answering them, he smiles. How cute, he thinks.

Her hair is dark and wavy, pulled back in a sloppy bun. He looks for any features she might have inherited from her great-great-grandfather, but he comes up empty. Her skin isn’t dark enough, and her face is shaped differently. While she has no physical resemblance to her great-great-grandfather, their magic is similar. Not exactly the same, but very similar.

It’s their auras, Silas thinks. Dark and earthy, practical and understanding, serious and sad. If he looks close enough, he can see the shadow of death lingering, a reminder of the path she’s taken. Yes, just like her great-great-grandfather.

Behind the shadow though, Silas can see something else. Something green and long, winding around in an endless circle. It takes him a moment to realize its vines.

Before Lily took the path of Necromancy, her mother tried forcing her into plant-based magic. While Lily showed promise, specifically with garden magic, she had no interest in the school.

The gift of magic runs in Lily’s blood having been passed down through both sides of her family. But, while most of her family took lighter, more natural paths, like garden magic. She chose to follow her paternal great-great grandfather’s path. Necromancy.

Another difference between Lily’s great-great-grandfather and herself is the strength of their magic. Lily’s magic seems to be stronger like it’s built on a solid foundation. Silas remembers her great-great grandfather’s magic being unstable at times. While it was strong, it wasn’t always reliable and oftentimes failed or backfired. She described her grandfather’s magic as being a glass cannon, strong but easily broken.

“Ahh, that’s the problem,” Lily began. Silas focuses back on her face. “You were made by my great-great-grandfather, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, no offense to him, but he clearly didn’t know what he was doing. Hence why you’re falling apart.”

“He said I wasn’t supposed to fall apart for several centuries.” Silas crosses his arms and attempts to frown, course the lack of skin on his bottom jaw prevents a full frown.

“If he had placed the wards correctly on your body, yes, but he didn’t. See, these wards are from a really old and difficult Necromancy book. The book isn’t even used anymore. There are spots where he didn’t know what to do, so he just winged it. Which, isn’t a problem, since a lot of magic is just guesstimating, but he wasn’t an experienced Necromancer, so his magic wasn’t strong enough. I’m surprised he even got your soul in your body.”

“I didn’t die the best way, sweetheart, that might have been why.”

Silas frowns at the vague memory of his death. Bloody and violent, filled with pain and hate. While the specifics of his death are something Silas does not wish to remember, he does remember the feeling of anger and betrayal as he took his last breaths. He can remember someone standing above him, a blurry face, and a low laugh.

“That’s a possibility. Bad or violent deaths leave the soul agitated, easy for necromancers to grab onto. It’s the same if you died before doing something important. Why did he raise you, Silas? No one seems to know why.”

Silas looks away from Lily. He had asked her great-great-grandfather that very same question, and the answer only made him angry at the time. Now though, he thinks it’s fitting. “As punishment.”

Lily frowns at that, even Todd looks like he’s frowning. “For what?”

“For being a bad man, sweetheart. Now, what’s wrong with my legs?”

Lily gives Silas a questioning look, but she doesn’t ask what he means. She answers his question instead. “Ok, your tibias, the larger bone in both your lower legs, have not healed correctly. The good news, your fibulas are fine.”

“So, what now?”

“I’m going to attempt to fix the larger bone. Not now, I’m tired and need to rest, but tomorrow we’ll try again.”

“Can’t you just, go take some legs from some poor bastard who just died?” Silas asked.

Lily laughs and shakes her head. “One, there’s no need. I have both your legs right here. All I need to do is work my magic and you’ll be fixed. And two, getting spare limbs would require me to go through the fucking Department of Necromancy. They gave me enough shit when I was registering you. Getting a spare limb, and two for that matter will be almost impossible. I’ll just use my magic.”

Silas scoffs and shakes his head. The world used to be simple when it came to magic, there were no rules or departments. It was everyone for themselves, but now everyone seems to monitored. “So many rules. I remember when robbing the graveyard for parts was a common thing.”

“Yeah, grave robbing is one of the reasons the DON was created.”

Silas looks down at her and tilts his head. “One of the reasons?”

“Yeah, World War Two and the Great Necro Army are two other reasons.”

“What happened?”

“Well, during World War Two, necromancers started raising dead soldiers to fight. Some of these soldiers got their souls back while others were just mindless drones. This was happening on both the Allied and Axis side. Course, only the Axis necromancers were punished for that. The Allies necromancers, however, were regaled as heroes. But it was a gross, undead mess, that left mental scars on many people, including the necromancers.”

Silas grimaces. “What’s the other thing? The Great Necro Army?”

Lily sits back on her behind and looks up at Silas. Todd settles on her lap, purring and pleased with himself. “Some of the necromancers came back from the war-damaged mentally, they were forced to raise their friends and watch them die over and over again. However, some came back with a sense of superiority and desire for power. As most assholes do, they formed a group and started raiding graveyards and attending funerals only to raise the dead. They didn’t care who they raised, they just wanted power.”

“Were they successful?”

“No, but they caused a lot of damage and havoc. It took a couple of liches to stop them. After that, the DON was created.”

“So, a few bastards ruined everything for good necromancers?”

“Not ruined, just made it difficult for a while. Rules aren’t as strict as they were after the war, but necromancers need to follow rules and register anything they reanimate through the DON. And human reanimation is forbidden unless it’s a body that was reanimated before 1948.”

“What happens if the body was reanimated illegally?”

Lily sighs and shakes her head. “It’s usually destroyed and the necromancer is sent away. Prison for magic users is not a pleasant place.”

“Darlin, I’ve been in prison and countless jails, none of them are pleasant places.”

Lily looks up at Silas, a dark look crosses her face. “Prison for magic users is even worse, Silas. I don’t know what they do in those places, but the magic users that come back, a piece of them is gone. Their aura, it’s damaged. And their magic, it’s unstable or nearly gone. Even when they get back on their feet, something about them is always missing.”

“Who decides who gets sent there?”

“It depends. If it’s a magic-user who does natural magic or stuff shown in a positive light, then they are judged by other magic users. Necromancers, blood users, shadow magic users, and summoners are judged differently.”

“Why?”

“Well, those schools of magic are looked down upon and since they can affect societies as a whole, they are judged by a mixture of magic users, regular people, religious figures, and various other magical creatures.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It can be, but it’s how our system has been shaped. It’s not all bad though. After some rather unfortunate cases where people were sent away because the judges didn’t understand magic, some liches got involved. They are trying to reform the system so that honest accidents don’t send people to prison. But they have a long road ahead of them.”

Silas sits back in his chair and wipes his face. His skeletal hand catches his attention, making him frown. His other hand still has skin, but it’s grey and splotchy. He knows his face is a mess. His jaw bone is visible, and the skin on his left cheek is gone. The hair he has is stringy and messy. All the muscle mass in his chest is gone, leaving only dried skin and a ribcage. Even his legs, once thick and firm, are now only bones.

When he was alive, he never considered himself much to look at, but he knew how to charm the ladies. He would rely on his trademark smirk, deepen his voice, give them a look and they were puddles before him. Girls in saloons would fawn over him, complimenting his hands, arms, and eyes. Women on the street (even those who were upper-class) would giggle and blush when he tipped his hat and gave them a wink. Even the women in the gang would grow flustered with his flirting.

Silas was even a hit with some men. While the men weren’t as giggly or flirty as the women, there were a few who were easily swayed by Silas. Course, those interactions usually required a firm hand on their shoulders, a certain look, and a promise to keep things quiet. Those nights were always quick, filled with rough kisses, low grunts, and slow thrusts.

But those days are a thing of the past. They happened a long time ago when he was better looking with sun-kissed skin, dark hair, and bright blue eyes. Now... now he’s just a fucking corpse.

“Silas?” Lily is standing up in front of him, a worried look on her face. Even Todd is giving him a look.

“Yeah, darlin?”

“You ok?”

“Yeah. Can… can you do something about my skin? Or do you need to go through that stupid department?”

Lily gives him a wide smile that makes him feel something in his chest. “No, getting skin is much easier than actual body parts. The problem is, since you’re dead, the skin won’t have a healthy look. It will connect to your body, but it will turn grey.”

Silas nods. “That’s better than looking at this.” He waves his skeletal hand and motions to all of himself with a grimace.

“I like the hand and your face. But, tomorrow, I can go see someone. We’ll need skin and muscle tissue for your legs, anyways.”

Silas watches her turn away, a prickling feeling inside him. She likes his face? And his hand? Why? Isn’t he disgusting? He’s heard it plenty of times, he’s seen the grimaces and looks. Times have changed, but the looks he gets from living people have not. But she, she’s never treated him that way. She’s never looked at him with disgust or fear.

Silas thinks back to when he first met her. He remembers the coffin, that fucking thing, and then a bunch of noise. People shouting in Spanish, then the coffin being moved. He wanted to shout for help, but his mouth had been stitched up long ago. When the coffin settled, he could hear multiple people praying loud and ridiculous.

He’ll never forget when the lid was ripped off. The sunlight blinded him and the screams only made his head throb more. Through the screaming, loud praying, and holy water being splashed on him (like that would do anything), there was a voice. A single voice telling everyone to stop.

Lily is the first person he saw since he was buried, locked away from the world outside. For a moment, he thought she was an angel. A halo of sunlight surrounded her head and her hair framed her face. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes were bright, he can still remember how worried she looked. Silas was ready to start praying and beg this heavenly creature to help him. But then she started cursing, shouting at everyone around them.

Silas remembers her broken Spanish, crude and childlike, telling everyone to step back and to shut their mouths. It would have been adorable if he wasn’t still in the coffin with his mouth stitched up. It was in English that she began to curse and talk to herself and then to him. Who would have known, Silas thinks, that angels are terrible Spanish speakers and curse like sailors?

“Silas, want to go watch tv?”

He was so lost in his memory he didn’t notice Lily brought out the wheelchair. He nods and together they get him in the chair.

The route to the living room is short. The house is larger than anything Silas has ever been in; certainly, larger than the house he was buried beneath. It’s nearly empty and sparsely decorated.

The living room has an old couch and a tv, both of them Lily bought at a second-hand store. The thing she calls a wi-fi router sits on the floor, it has nowhere else to go. Her laptop is next to the small box, closed and plugged into the wall. A cat tree for Todd is in the corner, several of his toys are always scattered along the floor.

The only other rooms in the house with some life is the kitchen and her room.

The kitchen has appliances, mixers, and bowls she recently purchased or brought from her family’s house. She said she bought them so she was taking them. The fridge is covered in pictures of her and who Silas assumes are friends. One of the pictures shows her in a strange hat and a weird cloth that looks like a cape. Lily explained it was her high school graduation cap and gown. Beside her in the picture is a lich, stooping down slightly to get in the shot.

Lily’s room is littered with stacks of books and papers, odd magical components, and bones. She tries to keep it clean, but Silas knows it’s a struggle for her. Once she cleans her room, she forgets where everything went and makes it a mess again. Despite the mess and slightly morbid object, Silas likes her room. It’s full of life and love and always feels warm.

The second room is supposed to be his, but it’s as empty as Silas feels. There are only a bed and a dresser, nothing else. He rather spends his time in the living room or kitchen than in that empty box. If he’s alone in there too long, the walls feel like they’re closing in on him.

The third room and the rest of the house is empty.

Before they moved into the house, Lily was living with her family and Silas was living in a coffin beneath an empty house. Once he was dug up, Lily insisted on keeping him. Her family disagreed, but she didn’t care. The stories of Silas being a monster that her great grandfather defeated were simply that to her, just stories. She didn’t believe them. And when she called her great grandfather a “fucking liar,” well, it was made clear that she should leave. So, she did.

Lily moved out of her family’s house with Silas. She left her family, because of him. Back when he was alive, Silas can remember several women and a young man offering to run away with him. Course, he never let them. Always told them they don’t want a no-good man like himself. Even when they said they wanted him as the sinful, bad man he was, Silas never let them go with him. Lily is the first woman who left her home for him, but she’s not the first who lost her family because of him.

“Silas, what you thinking about?” Lily asked.

He refocuses and notices the tv is on; some show about working in parks is playing. Lily is sitting on the couch, her eyes on him. Beside her, Todd is curled up asleep. Lily looks so concerned; it leaves a weird feeling inside Silas. Even when he was alive, there were a few people who only truly cared about how he was feeling.

“Just about when we first met.”

“Ah, that was an eventful day. Grandma and almost everyone else wanted to destroy you.”

“Except you.”

“And Pete. Pete remembered you, he said you were a good man. You kept them safe from their father. Course, no one believed him because of his dementia.”

Silas just hums and nods his head. Their father, Lily’s great grandfather, was nothing but a no-good bastard. From the moment Silas met the man, he did not like him. He tried to warn Lily’s great grandmother, Lola, but she insisted Silas was being too protective.

It took a while for the abuse to start, and when it did, Lola and her bastard of a husband already had three kids. It started out as verbal abuse, always yelling and threatening everyone, then progressed to physical violence. The bastard always did it when Silas was out of the house, but he saw the bruises on Lola’s face and the tears in her eyes.

Most of their kids were too young to remember what he said or did. Only the oldest remember how he smacked his wife into a wall and threatened to kill her. Silas remembers how it felt when he punched that bastard in the face. He would have killed him if Lola hadn’t stopped him, her cheek was red and her lip was bleeding. Silas regrets not killing the man.

“I wasn’t a good man, but I did keep them safe. Lola, when her father died, took me in. She was always good to me, didn’t care that I was a talking corpse. And your great grandfather hated me because I listened to his wife and not him. Plus, I did punch him in the face and threw him out of the house.”

“Yeah, Pete mentioned that. Of course, grandma and her other siblings didn’t believe him.”

“They were young when it happened, too young to remember.”

Silas looks away and focuses on the tv. A commercial about beer is on. It’s been so long since he’s had a bottle of beer. He wonders how much it’s changed, what it tastes like now. He was always a whiskey man himself, whiskey and cigars, but beer sounds good. He misses tasting things.

“Hey, can you fix my tongue? That way I can taste stuff.”

She smiles and nods. “Of course. Tomorrow, when we go see my skin guy, I’ll see if he can take a look at your tongue.”

Silas grimaces at the thought of her having a “skin guy” but says nothing. Necromancers have always been weird, he thinks. And Lily has her own weird traits and mannerisms, but she isn’t like other necromancers. It’s her smell, Silas thinks. She smells so sweet, almost too sweet.

The next day, they visit her skin guy who, ironically enough, does not have any skin. He’s a lich, a lich who appears to love the color pink and blue. Pink crystals line his sternum, while soft blue ones are scattered along his ribs. A combination of pink and light blue crystals lines the top of his head, similar to a crown. His eyes glow a soft pink, and his canine teeth are unnaturally long and capped with silver. His skull face is surprisingly expressive; who would have thought.

Silas would have expected a lich to live in an ancient castle or some old house, not in what appears to be a tiny magic shop in the middle of the Goblin District. Maybe having a shop in a graveyard or even a morgue, not in the Goblin District.

While the lich and his location were a surprise, the store itself was even more surprising. Outside, the shop seemed small, but inside, it was huge. The walls were lined with shelves that housed so many books, potions, jars, and even the occasional caged creature. More shelves lined the center of the store, they were filled with so many different magical ingredients.

There was even a garden section, small and green with so many different plants. There were small sparkles that caught Silas’ attention. He couldn’t hide his surprise when he realized those sparkles were fairies. How the hell did a lich get fairies to work for him?

“My little Necromancer! How are you doing?” the lich gushed when he saw Lily. When he sees Silas in the wheelchair, his eye sockets go wide. “And who is this?”

“Narron, I’m doing good. This is Silas, a reanimated human that was buried beneath my grandma’s house. Silas, this is Narron. He’s been my friend and mentor for many years now. He’s the lich in my high school graduation photo,” Lily explained.

Narron comes from behind the counter, waving his hand at the introduction, and begins examining Silas. His hands, both skeletal, grab and pull at Silas. Examining his arms, face, and legs. Narron tsks at the numerous wards mumbling about shoddy work. When he comes to Silas’ legs, he frowns and looks up at her.

“My lovely, little necromancer, what happened to this man?”

“It’s a long story Narron, but I’m trying to fix him up.”

“I can tell. The bones are looking good, but they will take time to fully set. Are you rubbing bone meal ointment on them?”

“Every morning and night.”

“Good. What’s your name?” Narron asked, looking at Silas. Obviously, Narron wasn’t paying attention during Lily’s introduction.

“Silas, sir.”

“Sir? What year are you from?”

“I died in the early 1890s, sir.”

Narron gasped, his eyes burn brightly for a moment. “Were you a cowboy? A rancher? A sheriff? Oh! An outlaw?”

Silas laughs and ducks his head out of habit. He misses his hat. “I uh, I suppose I’ve been a bit of all those.”

“Oh, a man with a mysterious past. I like him.” Narron winks at Silas and stands up to his full height. Narron turns his attention to Lily. “Now, what do you need, my darling little-death moth?”

Lily giggles at the name and Silas frowns. What is with the pet names? “Silas here wants some skin, for his hand and legs. And can you help me with his tongue? He wants to taste whiskey and cigars again.”

“A cowboy after my own heart. Come, this way. I can do his tongue, free of charge.”

“Thanks, Narron. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know, my beautiful belladonna.”

Silas rolls his eyes at the name for Lily but keeps quiet. This lich is going to fix his tongue and give him skin, he can’t afford to insult the lich. Or upset Lily.

Lily pushes Silas into a very messy and dimly lit back room. The floor is covered with papers, books lay spread open along the floor or stacked in messy piles. Gems and skulls litter the floor, along with several bottles of strange-looking potions. One of them is leaking a thick looking liquid that shimmers.

“Gods above, Narron, what happened in here? Lily asked.

“Um, well, I’ve been looking for someone.”

“Who?”

“An old flame.” Narron moved some stuff aside and took a seat at a large desk. With a flick of his wrist, the dim room brightens. “Now push that gorgeous cowboy over here and let’s see what we can do for that tongue.”

Silas didn’t think having his tongue fixed would be so invasive, oh, how wrong he was. His mouth is open wide, wider than normal for a living person, with Narron’s fingers poking and prodding at his teeth and tongue. Lily is looking over Narron’s shoulder, clearly interested in what he was going to do. The whole situation reminds Silas of the time he saw a dentist when he was living. The bastard had to pull one of his teeth, something about it being infected. All Silas can really remember is that his mouth ached for weeks.

“Your tongue is in ok shape, but you can’t taste?” Narron asked.

Silas, unable to respond because of the fingers in his mouth shakes his head.

“Well, that’s no fun. Lots of great things to taste in this world. Food, beer, whiskey, candy, brownies, men… women.” Narron glances at Lily, who squeaks and swats the lich. Narron laughs and even Silas has to smirk.

“Silas, don’t encourage him. I’m going to go look at your books and plants.” Lily quickly disappears from view.

“She’s so fun to mess with, and cute too. Don’t you think?” Narron asked.

Silas shrugs and looks away; his fingers dig into the chair’s armrest.

“I won’t tell her, you know. But I did notice the way your jaw clenches when I call her a name. With your gaunt face and lack of skin, it’s very noticeable.”

Silas narrows his eyes at Narron. If he could, Silas knew he would be blushing.

“What? I might not be human, but I know a pretty woman when I see one. And Lily is very pretty and so smart. One time, we went to the beach and she was wearing this cute little bathing suit. She was the prettiest thing out there. Especially with that cute little tummy of hers. So many men were fawning over her.”

Silas responds by growling and pushing Narron’s hands out of his mouth. “Watch your damn mouth.”

Narron eyes narrow and a knowing grin crosses his skull face. “You do like her.”

“I respect her.”

“And you like her. Nothing wrong with liking her. She’s a wonderful girl.”

Silas growls and clenches his hands into fists. Gods above, he wants to hit this stupid lich. “Stop.”

Narron sighs and puts his hands up. “Relax, nothing has, or will ever, happen between us. Lily is my student, and I would never breach the sacred student-teacher relationship. I might be a pleasure-seeking inhuman monstrosity, but I’m not a creep.”

Silas grunts and motions for Narron to continue with his examination.

Narron begins quietly. The only thing that Silas can hear is the magic he’s weaving into Silas’ tongue. Faintly, Silas can hear Lily talking to someone, and what sounds like her laugh. Who is she talking to? And more importantly, who made her laugh?

“You know,” Narron begins, “I was human once and I’ve been around for a very, very long time. I’ve seen many things, both good and bad. Loved and lost many in my time. And jealousy, well, that is a feeling I’m quite familiar with.”

Silas, still not able to reply, only raises an eyebrow. Jealousy? Who is jealous here? Certainly not me, Silas thinks.

“Surprising huh? A gorgeous lich like myself being jealous, who would have thought. But it happens. If you like her, you should tell her. Don’t hold back. I did once, and I lost the love of my life.” The flames in Narron’s eyes dim and his skull face falls slightly.

Silas, not knowing what to do, pats Narron’s arm. Narron seems to appreciate the contact. His face brightens up and he seems to shake old memories from his mind, or skull.

“Now, enough of that talk. Let’s get that tongue of yours working. Lots of things in this world to taste.”

It took an hour for Narron to fix Silas’s tongue. Once he was done, Silas is pushed to the front of the store, where Lily is waiting. She’s talking to a goblin about something in a book. Both are laughing and smiling. Part of Silas wants to be jealous, but the sight of her so happy takes his breath away.

“She’s gorgeous when she smiles, eh?” Narron whispered in Silas’ ear.

“She’s always beautiful,” Silas whispered back.

“Damn right she is. Lily, my darling death flower, your friend is ready. Also, the muscle tissue and skin are ready,” Narron called.

Lily excuses herself from the goblin and approaches the two. In her hands are a plant and a small book.

“Narron, you’re my hero. Thank you so much,” Lily gushed.

“Anything for my favorite student of death. Now, you remember how to put the skin on, correct?”

“Yes, begin muscle reformation spell then apply the skin.”

“Good. But, in case your memory is fuzzy, I wrote out detailed instructions for you.”

“Thanks, Narron. I’ll call you in a few days and tell you how everything’s working out. Oh, and I’ll take this plant and book.”

“Sounds wonderful, my sweet.”

Once the purchases went through, Lily and Silas start to head out with Narron beside them. He’s polite and opens the door, helping the two out.

“Remember, my little daughter of death, call me if you need help. Muscle reforming can be a real bitch,” Narron said. Silas smirks at the use of the word bitch.

“I will, Narron. Thank you.”

Narron turns his attention to Silas. “And you, cowboy, don’t forget what we talked about.”

Lily looks down at Silas, clearly curious about the conversation the two undead men had. Silas refuses to look at her but gives Narron the best glare he can summon. Narron smirks at the glare, amused with himself and the situation.

Lily doesn’t ask any questions as she walks them away from the shop, but Silas can feel her questioning gaze on the back of his head. He knows she’ll ask about it later, she’s so damn curious. And Narron, with the insufferable grin and supposed knowledge of love, will no doubt continue to tease Silas. Damn lich, Silas thinks.