#I said as I was drawing Vulgora's bust

[soullessseraphim]

Look at me as I realize that I can't draw horns for shit

og headcanon by @roserotz :D

[feed-your-neopets]

Valdemar x Devil!Lucio Fluff (One-shot)

Writer Preface:

First, I haven’t written fanfiction in years. Nor have I read a book recently. So, don’t feel bad about pointing out grammar mistakes or spelling mistakes. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything like this. Also, my knowledge of the science and medical world is pitiful. Please, let me know if I said something ridiculous.

Second, it is cannon that Lucio has a New Jersey accent. It may enhance the story to imagine him with it, because I did while writing this.

Third, this is just slow, awkward, fluffy Valdemar x Lucio stuff. I was trying to piece together how a relationship could even develop between them, and I love the challenge of unlikely, cursed pairings. I was thinking this would probably take place in Muriel’s route (so, smoll SPOILERS from this point on). I would think Lucio’s social circle would be dwindling since – ya know – he merged with the Devil and all. Lucio would definitely be longing for friendship and companionship. Valdemar will humor him if it means they get new things to study. Get that bag, Valdemar.

---

The salon was one of the few rooms left in the palace where one could find some peace. Ironic, as this room was once one of the livelier places in the palace. After all, the salon was where Countess Nadia would entertain her guests. Now, it was an echo of its former self.

Since his resurrection and merging with the boss, Count Lucio ran with a different crowd, and these new guests had a habit of “borrowing”. Not that Valdemar cared about the state of the rooms throughout the palace, nor the drunkards who sloppily paraded through the hallways with pockets full of silverware. However, the room was simply lacking. It was not quite the same without Countess Nadia’s fingers gliding across the ivory keys with precision and grace. Instead of the haunting melodies of a grand piano and the idle chatter of the other courtiers, the room was filled with the distant echoes of intoxicated partygoers reciting a rather impolite folk song about a sea captain’s cousin.

However, Valdemar was paying little attention to the commotion outside and quietly sipped their tea. They chose instead to focus on the decorating choices they felt were an improvement. For example, the dying flowers wilting in waterless vases were a nice touch. Additionally, the portrait that Count Lucio had commissioned in his mother’s likeness had some alterations. It was laying waste on the ground below where it was once proudly hung. The vandalism was done with such intention that Valdemar was certain the count had crossed out the eyes himself. Valdemar pondered if he had done so in a fit of rage. The count had such a temper, and judging from his interaction with his mother, there was a lot of emotional baggage to unpack. While the symbolism was a tad on the nose, Valdemar appreciated the irony none-the-less. It was Lucio who murdered his own mother. It was only fitting he should be the one to remove the light from her portrait’s eyes too.

Without much warning, the doors of the salon burst open with a bang; shaking the few portraits that still hung on the walls. Yet, Valdemar sat unflinching despite the abrupt entrance from the count.

“Alright, I’ll catch you guys later.” called Count Lucio to a chorus of guttural cheers and whooping from the end of the hall. Valdemar peered at the count from over their teacup as they took a long sip. They had been wondering what was taking the count so long. He had been the one who had requested a meeting with them. To keep them waiting seemed in poor taste.

“Crazy guys.” chucked Lucio to himself before turning his attention to Valdemar. “Hey, there you are! Where have you been? You weren’t at last night’s party. You missed Vulgora tackling several new recruits. You should have seen them go at it. We were taking bets and everything.”

“Hm.” hummed Valdemar as they peered into their teacup, finding more interest in the way the tea leaves settled to the bottom of their cup than Lucio’s story. However, Lucio did not seem to notice as he reenacted the punches and kicks of last night’s tussle; knocking over a chair in the process. “But hey, don’t worry about missing it. They’ll probably do it again tomorrow night. You’re gonna love it.”

“I am sure, my count.” lied Valdemar.

Lucio seemed convince Valdemar was genuine, and with an exaggerated groan, he slumped into the chair next to them. Valdemar watched as he adjusted the scabbard on his waist, the end of which clanked aggressively on the hardwood floor. His legs then spread out for maximum comfort as he sunk into his seat. It would seem he was finally situated, and he looked merrily back at Valdemar expecting them to speak first. The quaestor closed their eyes. Admittedly, their patience was wearing thin. With a short sigh, they placed their teacup on the table and prepared themselves to address the count.

“Is there a reason you have called me here today, my count?” asked Valdemar as politely as they could muster.

A spark of realization lit in Lucio’s eyes. “Oh, yeah, that’s right! I gotcha something.” said Lucio as he started rummaging through a small satchel. “I felt like we left it kinda weird at that old broad’s house, and I been wanting to make it up to you.”

“Old broad?” whispered Valdemar to themself as they searched their lexicon for a translation.

“Yeah, you remember. I gave you her heart. I was weird about it, but you were just asking for your payment.” explained the count. “It is nothing amazing, really. You probably have twenty of ‘em, but I was traveling through the market, and I saw it, and I thought - do you know who would like this? Quaestor Valdemar - so, I got it. No big deal, ya know?”

From his bag, Lucio pulled out an adult human skull. Embedded in the eye sockets were large rubies that burned in the orange glow of the setting sun. The count placed his gift in Valdemar’s hand, who made quick note of the condition in which the skull was in. In short, it was nearly perfect. The dental work was most fascinating to Valdemar. Not a single tooth was crooked or missing. No sign of disease or decay. Whoever extracted this specimen knew what they were doing. Valdemar was so transfixed by the skull, they almost forgot Lucio was still in the room.

“Yeah, I thought you like that.” said Lucio as he leaned forward in his chair. “I got that off a guy who was selling all kinds of wild, kooky stuff.”

Valdemar was quiet as they studied the skull. They were far more impressed by the specimen itself than the embellishments. Gemology was not at the top of their list of the most appealing subjects, and frankly, they thought the rubies were rather gaudy.

As they pondered the feasibility of extracting the gemstones without damaging the bone, a visibly nervous Lucio shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the silence between them.

“I -uh- I got it because the eyes remind me of your eyes.” said Lucio. As the words left his mouth, he instantly wished he had just swallowed them instead. He was not prepared for Valdemar's undivided attention. Their eyes were fixed on Lucio. Their expression was blank. Their entire form was eerily motionless. He immediately felt the need to elaborate. “Ya know, because the rubies are pretty - pretty like your eyes.”

To Lucio’s relief, the compliment was enough to break their stare. No one had ever called their eyes pretty before. Creepy. Unsettling. Unnatural. But never pretty. Pretty was a meaningless word. Pretty was objective. Pretty could not be measured. Pretty was unscientific. Yet, the word bounced around in their mind, unextrapolated and uncategorized. Valdemar wanted to dissect its meaning. They wanted Lucio to elaborate. What did it mean to have pretty eyes?

"Hey, is that thing broken?" asked Lucio. who had unknowingly grounded Valdemar from their slow spiral into the definition and interpretation of the word pretty.

"Pardon?" asked Valdemar.

"Did that bastard give me a busted skull?" asked Lucio gesturing to a fissure starting from the bottom of the eye socket across the cheekbone.

Realizing what the count was referring to Valdemar had to stifle a laugh. "No, that is a zygomaticomaxillary suture. You'll notice the second one, right here." They turned the skull to allow Lucio to see the other fissure reflected on the other cheekbone.

"Oh, so it's okay then? It's not broken?" asked Lucio.

"This specimen is in excellent condition." reassured Valdemar. A moment passed between them before the quaestor softly cleared their throat, and managed a polite thank you to the count. They fully intended to investigate the skull further for any clues of what may have lead to the specimen’s demise. They loved a good mystery. Afterwords, it would look lovely in their display cabinet - pretty ruby eyes and all.

“Right, so that guy I got this skull from. He has other things too. Goopy things in jars. Dead things in jars. Dead things out of jars. Drawings of bones and meaty parts. Books. Does any of that sound interesting to you?” asked Lucio.

Valdemar considered Lucio’s offer before replying, “I suppose that I am always in search for new specimens to add to my collection. Additionally, this could be an opportunity to ask the merchant where the rest of the remain’s of this specimen can be found.”

Their response seemed to greatly please the count as he leaned back in his chair. For the past few nights, he had done nothing but party - which he loved to do, and would surely want to do again - but sitting with Valdemar, as the sun lowered into the horizon felt nice. Not to mention, they knew a lot, which Lucio appreciated. Having them around could be quite helpful to keeping his kingdom. Additionally, he was curious as to what was under their bandages. His money was on horns, but it would be fun to confirm his suspicions.

“Great, I’ll take you down there sometime.” said Lucio. “And, if you see anything you like, consider it yours.”

While material possessions never interested Valdemar, the idea of discovering something new was quite alluring. Perhaps, the merchant had a sealed jar of an entirely forgotten disease, or maybe they would uncover an ancient tomb that described a real account of an unsolved death of an entire village. The more they thought about it, the more exciting the prospect became.

“Would now be an appropriate time?” asked Valdemar who had moved to the edge of their seat. Their body was stiff with anticipation, as they leaned over ever so slightly towards him. A coy smile spread on Lucio’s face. He knew the moment he agreed, Valdemar would be sprinting for the door. Frankly, it seemed cruel to make them wait another moment for his answer.

“I’ll have someone fetch two cloaks and a carriage.”

END.

[cela-astral-projection]

Once again she steals away. Then she reaches out to kiss me. And how she takes my breath away. Pretending that she won't miss me. Oh, I would bleed to love her.

"He busted his fucking head in..."

"Oh, yeah. Scourge is a vicious son of a bitch. But, that motherfucker sure did a number on him. I thought I saw his guts spilling out..."

"Get them out, Captain." Celeste bit out at Aedan, looking over her shoulder. Her jaw was tense, and her eyes were narrowed. He gave a curt nod and stepped out of the cell.

"Hey, clear out!  Scourge needs some space," he called down the hall at the other guards. "We need hot, clean water and some cloths. Towels...something. Go get it sorted."

Celeste's visage fell back on Muriel, and it was pure compassion.  He was gripping the sides of the bed, unquestionably in agony, knuckles white. She brought her hand to his cheek, and he flinched away with a roar, snapping his eyes shut.

Celeste recoiled a bit. Not out of fear, but out of respect. It also wouldn't be the first time she had been accidentally struck by an injured patient, lashing out in pain.  "I'm sorry. I should have warned you. You have to let me touch you, though. It will help with the pain."

Celeste could hear the grinding of his teeth. See the way his body was tensed, slick with sweat and carnage.  She wasn't sure if he could even hear her in his distress.

"Muriel, I'm going to touch your face. Stay with me, okay?" she said, her voice calm but firm.

She rested her hand gently on his cheek and closed her eyes. As the magic radiated into him, she could feel him relax. His tension ebbing away.

"There we go," she whispered, stroking her thumb over his cheekbone comfortingly. She felt his hand fall from the bed, limp. He gave a whimper, and Celeste opened her eyes. He was looking up at her, eyes heavy-lidded. She could see the confusion. "It's okay. You're going to go to sleep, and you'll feel much better when you wake up. I'm going to take care of you."

Before she could even finish, his eyes fell shut. Her hand lingered at his cheek.

Should she be afraid of him? She knew how he had become wounded. She knew what he was doing. She knew that this was not only Muriel’s blood that stained him. 

That there would be no helping the other contender.

He was doing his job. Just like Aric. Just like her.

She shook her head to dismiss the thoughts that raced, reaching down to her bag. She pulled a small metal tray and a bottle of antiseptic fluid. She rinsed her hands and arms up to the elbow.

She lifted the cloth that had been stanching the bleeding. The skin was flayed, and the wound was long and deep.

"Captain, do you know if the Count has cleared out?"  she called back, and Aedan stepped back into the cell.

"Why are you asking?"

"It's...a bad wound. I need to know what I should and...shouldn't do."

How much magic is too much magic?

"I don't think he's gone. He likes to come down and prod...fix what you can internally so he doesn't bleed out and stitch the rest."

She scrutinized the wound. "How long before Lucio has got him back out in the arena?"

Aedan shook his head. "We don't have anyone else in custody. It could be days or weeks. It depends on Lucio's mood."

Celeste sighed, somewhat panicked. "I can't stitch him. They won't hold. It'll be six weeks before he's healed enough. If he's lucky. It's in the muscle. He needs surgery, and I'm not set up for that."

"Then...do your thing, and we'll deal with the consequences later." Aedan countered, not sure what to do. 

She shook her head, staring at the wound. There was no good answer. She couldn’t do the right thing. "Lucio knows how wounds heal. You've seen that arm. And you can't tell me nobody else ever landed a blow on him." she said, mostly to herself, running the mental acrobatics in her head.

"Should I get the Magician? What about Red?" Aedan asked.

"No...Asra wouldn't be able to keep a clear head. Muriel needs help now. It'd take Julian too long to get here." she muttered.

She bit her lip, considering when she heard voices from up the corridor.

"Incoming," Aedan whispered before going to attention.

Celeste made a quick wave over the wound, concentrating on healing the vessels and tissues that were most affected. She could feel them stitch and reassemble under her palm. It wasn't perfect, but she didn't have time for perfection. It would serve for now.

Lucio was laughing. Probably half-drunk, if not totally soused. He was flanked by Valerius and Vulgora. The Countess trailed behind with a group of diplomats.

"How is our Champ--" Lucio started, sweeping in. "Aw, fuck. Is he dead?" His face looked equal parts confused and disappointed.

Celeste looked over her shoulder, not moving from her crouched position. "Another inch or so and he might have been." She measured her tone, though she was certain her face spoke volumes. "He's drugged, for the pain."

"Can't 'cha wake him up? I brought guests! I wanna show him off."

"He took an ax to his stomach, My Lord." Aedan offered. "I think perhaps we should let him rest. He's not exactly his beautiful self right at the moment."

Lucio went up on tiptoe, catching the still mostly-opened wound and the viscera that coated him, which seemed to sober him a bit. "You sure he ain't dead? Looks pretty dead."

"My Lord..." she said, forcing the words. "He's going to need to convalesce at the Palace once I get him stable. I need him close to hand in case Quaestor Valdemar, or Doctor Devorak needs to intervene."

"No!" Vulgora bellowed, shrill and harsh, pushing forward past Lucio. "He's too hard to restrain! It's not safe to take him out of his cell! You can treat him here, or not at all."

Celeste flinched at the voice but steeled herself. "That's fine, Pontifex. Would you like me to start digging his grave? Because if we leave him here with an open wound of this size, it's going to fester. It's not safe to stitch. It's going to need to be packed and dressed so it can heal. And, more to the point, He's going to need surgery. He needs to be monitored and in a more sterile environment. He won't live if this gets infected. And it will." She gestured vaguely to the filth that surrounded them. "He's your Gladiator. He deserves better than a slow, painful death in a dank cell, rotting from the outside in. Do you know what gut wounds look like when they fester and go putrid? What they smell like?"

The Diplomats, Nadia, and Valerius, and Aedan had all gone a shade of green. Lucio was wide-eyed. Vulgora was unmoved.  

Nadia, after taking a sharp inhale of breath to compose herself, stepped forward. "Darling, she has a point. A dead gladiator does not have quite the...drawing power. You've put so much work into the Coliseum. I don't think you'll find another Scourge." She offered, looking past him to Celeste, with a silent sympathetic glance.

Celeste bowed her head, thankful for the assist. Her gaze then fell back on Lucio, but her expression softened somewhat, imploring him.

Lucio looked torn. He clearly had not planned on having to make these types of decisions today.

Valerius, clearly disgusted by the whole display, and growing bored, rolled his eyes. "The fiscal implications of losing the Asset would be...notable." he volunteered, "And he is well-liked, for whatever reason. Should he pass from a flesh wound, I dare say there would be quite an upheaval." His measured tone turned wicked. "If we're going to exterminate him, we should sell tickets."

Aedan, thoroughly shocked at his sister's boldness, and the Consul's cruelty, decided to intercede, if for no other reason than to redirect some of the backlash. "If it would appease Pontifex Vulgora and satisfy his Lordship, I will personally oversee security in the interim...should he be permitted to convalesce in the palace." His gaze fixed straight ahead. But he felt Vulgora's lizard-like eyes burning holes in him, and he couldn't help but pull a face, bracing for impact.

Lucio groaned. "Fine! Fine. I don't have all day to stand around debating. Get him ready for transport. I want him on his feet before the week is out."

Celeste opened her mouth to protest, but Aedan shot her a look and mouthed, "Shut the fuck up." Aedan knew this was the best possible outcome, and it wasn't wise to push for more out of Lucio, especially flanked by the Consul and Pontifex.

Celeste pressed her lips into a firm line and stood, straightening herself. She took a deep breath and inclined her head to Lucio with all the faux gratitude she could muster. "Thank you, My Lord. Most charitable."

Lucio's eyes flashed at her tone, and Aedan's rolled back in his head.

Lucio made to step towards her, his fists, alchemical and flesh, clenched. Jaw set. But, Nadia caught his arm.

"Oh, Darling. We shouldn't keep our guests waiting any longer. And, our Champion needs to be taken into care. Let's go home. I'm sure dinner will be waiting." Nadia said, her tone pleading and loving.

Lucio turned to her, and Nadia batted her eyelashes at him. Anyone who knew their dynamic knew that it was performative. She was threatening him, like a mother redirecting her wayward child. Gentle but intimidating.

Lucio huffed, defeated. He turned his eyes back on Celeste. "One week." He repeated, his tone seething.

Celeste nodded, giving her assent.  "One week."

Lucio swept out with his party, all but Vulgora, trailing.

Vulgora lingered for a moment longer, fixing Celeste with a look that made her intestines writhe. She set her jaw, trying not to let her fear creep into her features. Aedan moved to her side.

"Pontifex?" he implored cautiously, eyebrow raised, hand at the hilt of his sword.

Their eyes narrowed, and they bared their teeth.

Then, the tension was cut by a whistle. Lucio, calling out for them to follow. Vulgora growled, irritated, then whirled out, spinning on their heel, sprinting away.

The twins deflated simultaneously.

"By the Gods, Linn. When did you grow such a shiny spine?" Aedan asked. His tone was not precisely respectful. "You're lucky you have the executioner incapacitated. You might have been the last thing on his to-do list before they put you both in the ground."

"One of us has to maintain our backbone." she hissed, shaking her head. "Come on, we're burning daylight. I'm going to try to pack the wound, you get me a carriage. A fucking wagon. Anything. And enough men to move him carefully."

"How many do you think that is?" Aedan asked, genuinely curious.

"He's almost seven feet tall, and he's got to be hovering around 300 pounds of pure muscle. And it's all dead weight. Do the mental math, Brother," she said, back on her knees, digging in her bag for gauze and saline.

Aedan's eyes were darting back and forth, genuinely trying to run the numbers in his head.

"Aric Axel," Celeste spat out, "just go. I don't have time."

"Going, going." He said, jolted from his stupor.  

--

Muriel woke in unfamiliar surroundings. It smelled...clean. Cedar and antisceptic. It was dim, but the candlelight was bright enough to burn his eyes when they flickered open, and he winced, squinting against the light.

He tried to move but felt constricted at the waist. He brought his hand down and found rough fabric binding his core.  

Every movement hurt. Intense tension and a dull throbbing. His head felt foggy. He thought he heard...singing. Footsteps. Water sloshing. He let his head fall back, already exhausted. Softness below him. A pillow. He hadn't had a pillow in...years. A mattress. A blanket.

He winced a bit when he heard the thud of something being placed at the bedside.

He felt the bindings at his waist loosen as hands undid fastenings. And, the pain intensified as the restriction slackened. He gave a loud groan, his head lolling to the side, trying to catch his breath.

"Muriel?"

He cracked an eye open, though he didn't need to. He knew that voice. He knew it from the song she sang. The smell of her perfume.

Celeste.

Asra's Celeste.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," she said, her tone sweet. "How bad is the pain?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but found his tongue dry. He huffed a bit, but the expansion of his chest and abdomen from drawing a deep breath sent a wave of pain through him. And the contraction of his body only amplified it more.

Celeste grabbed his hand firmly between hers squeezing. "I've got you," she said, and he could feel tendrils of energy flowing up through his veins. The pain subsiding as it entered his chest and spilled into his stomach. Effervescent, like bubbles under his skin.

He felt like he could breathe again, and took another tentative breath.

"Be careful, it's just pain relief. You can still strain yourself and tear something. Doctor did a pretty good patch job, but...you're going to be down for a bit."

Celeste's hands were small and warm in his, but her grip was firm.

Once he had relaxed, she laid his hand back down on the mattress and reached for a cup of water. "Here, wet your lips. Little sips." She brought the cup to his lips.

He couldn't entirely open his eyes for any length of time, so he allowed her to administer the fluids. There were a few trickles that escaped him, but she was quick with a clean cloth, dabbing away the excess.

"Is that better?" she asked, laying the cup aside.

"Mm," Muriel grunted. "How long...was I asleep? Where am I?" His voice was still raspy.

"About a day. You're in the palace. In a servant's room."

"Why?" he said, his tone abrupt, but perplexed.

"I had to get you out of there. You needed surgery."

"Or what? I would have...bled out?"

Celeste raised an eyebrow. "That's one possibility."

"Delaying the inevitable."

Celeste made a noise in the back of her throat, the nursing part of her provoked by his lack of self-preservation. Muriel, for what little he allowed her to know of him, had always been a defeatist. She wasn't exactly caught off guard. "Perhaps. But, I try not to let patients and friends die on my watch. Die on someone else's time."

"Friends?" he scoffed.

"Mmhm. Like it or not." Celeste retorted. Though, it stung. They had spent many hours together. Long nights, with Asra. Occasionally on her own.

She liked Muriel. To put it mildly. Though, her feelings were anything but mild.

She wondered when she would be able to stop coaxing him like a stray cat with cream. No matter what she tried, he always seemed to be indifferent.

Celeste had never been all that concerned with who liked or disliked her. It was of little consequence. But, with Muriel...it mattered.

Of course, practically, she knew he was well within his rights to be morose. She would be, too, were she in his place.

"I have to change your dressings. That's why I was taking the binding off. Let me know if you need any more pain relief."

Muriel felt her hands, and the supremely unsettling sensation of fabric being moistened then pulled from the open wound in his stomach. He hissed, though there was no pain.

Celeste examined the removed dressings. She was satisfied with their color. A bit of blood, but nothing too concerning. The wound itself was clean. A few strategically placed internal stitches. Julian had done an excellent job. She could have healed it to near perfection if she'd been able to use her magic, but...it just wasn't safe.

"It will scar. But...scars give character." She offered as she carefully cleaned the site.

Muriel was squirming a bit, the sensation astonishingly unfamiliar. It bothered him. Even in his unease, he was able to bite out a "Fuck character."

Celeste gave a weak chuckle as she repacked the wound with dry gauze, making quick work of it. She placed some fresh cloths over the site and rebound his abdomen. Tight enough to pull the injury together to promote closure.

"When's the last time you ate?" She asked.

"I...I'm not sure," Muriel answered, searching his memory.

"What do you think you can eat? I'd like to try to load you up while I have you, but I'm afraid to force too much and make you sick."

"Don't worry about me."

Celeste patted his cheek. "Don't argue with the Nurse. You're mine for the next six days. Like it or not. There are guards all over, and you are in no condition to run."

"Six days?" he asked, skeptical, and a bit dismayed.

"Yes, Sir," she answered, with almost a lilt in her tone. "Why? Do you want to go back to the dungeon?"

Muriel sighed. "I'm not sure which is worse. Being in Lucio's dungeon or being in his palace."

"I haven't been on your side of things, fortunately. I'd say that a palace is a superior option, all told." she offered, diplomatically. "But, I get the spirit of what you're saying...and I agree. Proximity can certainly breed contempt. And he is...contemptuous, to begin with."

Celeste reached her hand up and stroked an errant hair from his face, fingers lingering at his temple. "Do you want to try to eat? You look tired, still."

"I'll...try," he said, his tone quiet.

"I'll be back in a moment." She smoothed his hair back, then stood. She had just started to move away when Muriel caught her wrist.

"Can I... have that bread? That Asra brings? He asked, eyes half open and voice unsure.

Celeste smiled down at him and nodded. "I'm sure that can be arranged."

"If it's not...too much trouble," he added.

"Don't backpedal when the wish is granted, sweetheart." She slid her hand up into his and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "In fact, you've inspired me."

--

Muriel had lapsed back into sleep by the time Aedan arrived, escorting the baker. He fixed Celeste with an exasperated look. "Your...' baker. '"

Celeste grinned broadly. "I trust you didn't run into any trouble, Captain? Selasi?"

Aedan closed the door as they stepped into the room, eyes narrowed. "You are pushing your luck." 

Celeste rolled her eyes. "That will be all, Captain," she said, waving her hand to dismiss him.

He made a noise of annoyance as he backed out of the room, shutting the door loudly behind him. He then reopened the door and apologized before slinking back out. Muriel stirred for a moment, then stilled, the sound of his snoring echoing off the walls.

When they were alone, Selasi crossed the room to Celeste, a bundle in his hands. He laid the bread on a bedside table and drew a ragged breath. Celeste extended her arms to him, and he stepped into the circle of her embrace. Celeste stared up at him.

Purple eyes.

"Thank you for coming, Love."

Asra bent and rested his forehead against Celeste's. It felt...odd. She was significantly shorter than him, but in this body, the effect was amplified. He was broader, rounder, taller.

"Should I take the glamour off? I think It might worry Muriel...But I don't want to give myself away, either."

Celeste nodded. "It's been quiet, so far. The Captain is...aware of our situation."

"And you trust him?"

"With my life."

"I assume there's a story there."

"Long one, yeah."

"Want to share?"

"Not today."

Asra gave her an incredulous look. Getting her to open up about her past was like...pulling teeth. All the same, he knew, generally, when he was being lied to. He never got that sense from her.

Someday she would open up.  

His visage shifted, and he seemed to melt, like snow flooding into water. And then, Asra was restored to her.

"How...is he?"

Celeste shrugged. "He's as well as can be expected. Resting. You can wake his cranky ass up if you'd like. I got some chicken broth and rice down him before he went to sleep."

Asra looked concerned. "Cranky because of the wound or..."

"...Because he's Muriel. I'm sure the gaping wound doesn't help."

Asra rolled his eyes but nodded. "Sounds about right. You know he's all bark and no bite, don't you?"

Celeste shook her head. "Sure feels like a bite. He still doesn't think I'm his friend. It's been...what? Two years?"

Asra sighed and looked her in the eye. "He knows you're his friend. He's just...It's always only been us. You changed our dynamic. For the better, of course. But, he's terrible at accepting changes. Truly the worst."

Celeste shrugged, feigning indifference. "I'm not everyone's cup of tea."

Asra's tone shifted. "Celeste, you got him out of the dungeon and into the palace. You probably saved his life. I'm sure he'll come around. He just needs time..." he drew a breath, and continued, exasperated "...so, so very much time."

The snoring stopped, and Celeste looked past Asra. "He's waking up."

Asra turned and parted from Celeste, crossing the room to Muriel.

"Hey," Asra said, his voice cautious and tender. He sat on the chair next to the bed,

Muriel blinked the sleep from his eyes, then lifted a hand to rub his face. "Asra?" He asked, unsure of what he was seeing in his half-sleep, magically-induced daze. "You...shouldn't be here," he mumbled.

"Celeste snuck me in. It's safe enough." Asra said, reaching his hand out to touch Muriel's forehead, stroking his hair. "I was so worried, Muriel."

"She fixed me," Muriel murmured.

"Oh, she did?" Asra said, turning his eyes on Celeste with a half-smile. "She's good like that. Did you say thank you?"

Celeste bit her lip and hung back, watching the exchange.

Muriel, coming around a bit more, shook his head. "You really shouldn't be here. Lucio...wants you."

"And as far as anyone of consequence knows, Selasi is here to deliver pumpkin bread. Selasi walked in, and Selasi will walk out." Asra said. "Don't worry. We've got that under control. I won't stay long. I just needed to see you."

Muriel sighed and then winced. "Pain...is coming back."

Asra looked at Celeste. "I can close it."

She shook her head. "Between Julian and Valdemar, someone will figure out if magic gets used to close the wound. I can't think of any scene where that ends well or doesn't get back to Lucio. Either they figure out I've done it, or they assume Muriel has some sort of healing ability...or, worst-case scenario, they link it back to you." Celeste shrugged. "You're the last piece that Lucio hasn't managed to ensnare in this disaster, yet."

Asra turned back to Muriel, shaking his head, unsure of what to say.

Celeste crossed over to them and took Muriel's hand. He could feel her magic flowing into him again, and the pain easing. He closed his eyes for a moment, then turned his face to Asra.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this." Muriel's voice was sorrowful. "I don't want to do this anymore, Asra."

Celeste winced, and Asra's face fell.

"Muriel...I need you. I don't want to lose you." He said, almost pleading.

"You are losing me...I'm losing myself, in there."

Asra looked up at Celeste, and she could see the tears welling in his eyes.

She drew a breath. "If...I may, Muriel. I didn't have the luxury of knowing you before this. But, I have known cruel men. Men with bloodlust in their hearts." She squeezed his hand. "You are not like them. You are doing a job. A monstrous, wretched job that nobody should be subjected to. I have seen you after every match...and I know the remorse you feel."

Muriel was looking up at her now, brow furrowed, but attentive.

"If you had changed, you wouldn't feel this way. We aren't losing you. You're still Muriel." She gave him a compassionate look. "I wouldn't put up with your cranky ass if I thought you were a lost cause."

Asra sniffed but gave a slight chuckle, bringing a hand up to wipe his eyes. He mouthed a "thank you," and Celeste nodded.

"I love both of you...I know what it's like to lose those closest to you. I'll do what I can to keep you together."

Muriel blinked slowly up at her, train of thought thoroughly derailed. "I'm sorry...you...love us?"

Asra's face mirrored Muriels, though he looked much more amused. "You love us?" He asked with a lilt in his voice.

Celeste rolled her eyes. "Of course, I love you. There's...many kinds of love. Don't be children."

Asra clapped Muriel's shoulder. "Our wife loves us." He teased, his words sing-songy.

Muriel's face was not quite so amused. Shocked.

Celeste shook her head, feeling her face flushing red. She made to move away, but Muriel gripped her hand, eyes imploring.

"You don't mean it," he said disbelievingly.

Asra's amusement abated, looking between the two of them. The intensity on Muriel's face, the sorrow in Celeste's eyes.

Of course, he had known. He'd known from the first night Celeste had smuggled him into the dungeons to see Muriel after Lucio had brought him in.

 He never questioned the love between himself and Celeste. But she looked on Muriel with the same affection that they shared. Initially, he'd been confused by it. Not quite sure how to process.

But, as their relationship grew, even such as it was, it gave him hope. The two most influential people in his life. The three of them working as a unit. The fact that she would go to Muriel of her own volition, even when he pushed her away.

It was love.

"Of course I mean it," Celeste answered.

Muriel shook his head, "I--" he looked to Asra, who nodded enthusiastically, trying to suppress a grin. "...Thank you?"

Asra's grin fell, and he groaned loudly, dropping his head to his chest. 

Celeste gave Muriel’s hand one last squeeze and a laugh. “Asra...feed the man his bread. I..need a moment.” She said, as she stepped away, laughing to herself. 

Muriel looked at Asra, eyes wide. Asra fixed him with a disapproving look. 

“What?” Muriel asked, bewildered. 

“You are...hopeless. Completely hopeless.” Asra shook his head, and reached up to grab the wrapped loaf of bread. “You’re so lucky I love you.”