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legendsgalore · 16 days

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Danger in the Deep

The farmer gets injured and collapses in the mine, who rescues them...? 6k words.

“Ah fuck fuck fuck.” You called out, too breathless to even shout, just a stream of consciousness falling from your lips at this point.

You twist in midair, trying to aim so you could come down with a sword stab on the attacking monsters, but you over judged the distance when you jumped and now are too far away. Instead you let yourself land on your feet, close to the edge of one of the water pools around you.

As you catch your balance, waving your arms a little to do so, you feel something hard *cRaCk* into your back and you gasp out in pain. It startles you enough that you topple forward and fall into the water.

“Fuc-” Splash! In you go. Instincts kick in and you fight for the surface, spluttering water as you push above.

But as you’re inhaling air, another *cRaCk* and you cry out in pain.

“Ahh! I swear, to whatever deity out there, Caldarus, or that ghost priestess lady, I will make you regret, ever, being, born!” A little breathy, but you hoped that the trio of iron ore covered rocks currently spitting more rocks at you got the idea.

They just spat more rocks at you and you dove to the side to avoid them, and hurriedly pulled yourself over the bank on the other side of the pool. You’re unsteady on your feet, barely any health left, and stumble once and nearly fall back into the water. On your feet now, you twist to dodge another rock barrage, and then turn back to look at the water, and eye the distance between the two banks.

With one nod to yourself, more for self reassurance, you hold your iron sword out to the side, run and leap over the distance. In midair you twist your shoulder to bring your sword over your head, and your other hand finds a grip on the weapon’s handle.

Just before you land in the middle of the three rocks, you release a battle cry and twist once more so that all your body weight and momentum is behind the sword, who’s point is facing downwards.

You land with an audible crunching noise into the ground, and the shockwave of force knocks all three iron rock monsters back, stunning them. Taking advantage of their momentary distraction you yank your sword out of the ground and start going to town on the nearest one.

It doesn’t even get a chance to recover from being stunned before its existence is forcibly removed by you, and you get to work on the second just as it finishes recovering.

You continue swiping your sword, even as the monster shoots another trio of rocks at you in defense, *cRaCk*, and your stubbornness wins out and it too, perishes.

Just as you catch your breath, something hard slams into your back *cRaCk* and your vision goes black for a moment in pain.

“Gah!” You can’t help but cry out, that hurt so bad.

Whirling around, you see the third monster you had somehow forgotten about. It was already gearing up to launch another barrage of rocks, those three pronged attacks that always hit you no matter how you dodged, thanks to your unfamiliarity with the pattern.

Forcing your feet to move, even when they feel so heavy like your boots were made of pure iron, you push forward and start attacking the last enemy. Once again you ignore dodging attacks in favor of just, killing it already!

You hack and swipe and stab your sword, ignoring the *cRaCk* *cRaCk* *cRaCk* as two attacks graze you, and on the third, you stab the rock into oblivion, but its last attack still nails you in the chest, causing you to stumble and fall. Your head hits the ground, and the rocks, hard.

“Ahgh!” You cry out in pain, again. You swore you might have heard something crack in you that time. Head injuries are no joke you know, but your head is so fuzzy that you can barely even think that.

You lie there for who knows how long, nausea washing up and away like the beach tide, as you breathe into the silence, wavering between holding back your whimpers and being unable to.

The Upper Mines were nothing compared to this. You were so unprepared, no armor, nothing. Three of those rock enemies who all take so many hits and just, keep, attacking.

Finally, your thoughts collect themselves enough that you realize you should probably sit up. The realization that you were so out of it that it didn’t even occur to you before scares you. You sway a lot, but you stay sitting up so you count it as a victory.

Tenderly you reach and push against your sternum where the last attack hit, and the pain is so intense it almost makes you black out.

It’s all you can do to remain sitting up for another stretch of time, but eventually your awareness comes back to you and you feel in control again. Even though you’re not pushing on your likely cracked sternum, your vision wavers and is fuzzy on the edges.

Looking around you, you note that the cavern you’re in is now empty, but the elevator is on the other side of that pool you crossed earlier.

You breathe out deeply, and wince at the fresh wave of pain that causes. Your whimper echoes in the cavern, and you shut your eyes tightly for a moment.

Gathering your willpower, you move your leaden feet again, feeling your leg muscles tremble as you stand up. Giving yourself a moment to adjust to the wave of black spots that rush your vision from the action, you eventually move to the edge of the water pool.

At the edge of the water, you debate internally whether to jump or swim, and you decide that you don’t want to risk being unable to climb back up the bank, so it’s jumping for you.

Pushing down your whimpers, you would shake your head if it didn’t hurt so much, and just force your body to move.

Taking a few steps back, you forcefully push your muscles into action, feeling strength course through your limps and pump out a few powerful steps before leaping over the water. You can’t help but smile in pride for yourself being able to do that much, and that all you need to do is head back down that hallway and then you’ll be right next to the elevator and will just be able to ride it up and out of the mines - until your vision just outright blacks out midair and your jump turns into a crashing leap.

You can’t even twist to try to land on your back, and your legs throb as you land badly, and then they go out from underneath you and you collapse in an awkward pile of limps and, again, your head hits the ground, hard.

____________________________________________________________________________

Balor is very casually leaned against the entrance of the Mines, holding a Snowdrop Anemone in his hand. He turns it over, examining the rare flora.

You had passed by him early this morning and had just simply handed him this very desirable flower. He didn’t understand you. You hadn’t put it in the shipping bin, you had apparently just found it and gave it to him because, he was there?

Your words had been “Just because you deserve it!” And that didn’t make things any clearer.

So here he was, back where he saw you that morning, pondering the meaning behind your actions. He was hoping to catch you as you came out of the Mines, no one in town had seen you since you went in and it was nearing dark, so you were bound to come out any moment.

All of a sudden, despite the summer weather, Balor felt a chill reach up his spine, as if something was permeating his body. It reached his head and before Balor could panic about the feeling he heard something on the breeze.

‘Help….mines….deepest…’

There was no way. But Balor felt that earlier chill seize his muscles and spurn him into action and before he knew it he was by the elevator inside the Mines.

“Hello! Are you there!!” Balor called out your name but there was no response.

Logic told him you should be fine, you had gone into the Mines literally everyday this past week, but that chill lingered in his bones and Balor couldn’t ignore it.

But he didn’t have a weapon and if you really were hurt, him being unarmed wouldn’t help the situation so he turned and ran out of the Mines. He needed to get a weapon.

His chest was heaving by the time he ran up to the Blacksmith’s, where he could see Olric helping March cool down the anvil and forge for the night, it was that late. They turned to look at him, and he watched as their curious but mild expressions immediately morphed into concern when they saw how hurried he was.

“Balor what’s-” Olric began but Balor spoke over him.

“Sell me a weapon now.”

March crossed his arms and frowned, stepping forward. “What for and why do you need it so desperately?”

Balor tolerated March’s prickliness because everyone knew how much he cared but the merchant felt frustration bubble up anyways, he had no time for that right now.

“The farmer is hurt in the mines and I need to go down and help her.”

The brothers’ eyes widened and they looked at each other. For a second no one said anything before they burst into action, Olric running inside shouting over his shoulder; “Gonna fetch the kit!” And March reached into the pile next to the still-cooling anvil and pulled out two swords.

His frown turns into a scowl and he thrusts the weapon at Balor, who takes it and turns to make his way to the Mines.

“Wait the fuck up, Olric is getting the first aid kit.” March calls out, his voice rough.

“Are you..coming?” Balor asks.

March scoffs, “Yeah of course we are. Olric literally worked down there he knows how to deal with all manners of problems. And I’m not just giving that to you, I want it back.”

The blacksmith nods at the weapon in Balor’s hands and he nods in return. Fair enough. But then…

“Why are you coming?”

March scowls even further somehow and holds up the sword in his hands. “Better two than one. Besides, I need to see what she’s gotten herself into this time and if she’s…”

The blacksmith’s face reddens and he makes a “tch” sound and looks to the door of the building. Balor narrows his eyes appraisingly at the redhead. Does he…?

Before the merchant can follow that train of thought Olric bursts out of the Blacksmith’s with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Sorry! It wasn’t where it was supposed to be!” The retired Mines worker calls out.

“It’s fine let’s just go!” March falls in step with his brother as they, without pause, begin running to the Mines and Balor startles and has to catch up to the two.

It’s dark out, enough that fireflies scatter away from the trio as they run to the Mines. Balor is now convinced something is wrong because you’re usually out of the Mines by this point and you always first stop by the Blacksmith’s to make some bars out of the ore you find.

Looking at March and Olric’s faces, Balor knows the same thoughts are racing through their heads.

Heading into the ground floor of the Mines, the men stop by the elevator, and the brothers turn to look at Balor.

“What floor is she on?” March demands.

Realizing that he didn’t know for sure, Balor pauses, before remembering the chill from earlier and that message he heard. “Help…mines…deepest…”

He grips his sword harder and tells them, “She’s on the lowest floor this goes.”

March nods, and turns to his brother, “You know how to work this right? Get us down there.”

Olric hefts his backpack onto his back and says, “All right! Let’s go then!” And is the first to step onto the elevator.

Balor and March join him, and Olric remembers how to lower them so they begin heading into the darkness.

Balor hasn’t been into the Mines before, was content to just let you go and get those precious gems and such for him, and the rickety, old, wooden elevator doesn’t make him feel any better about this trip.

He catches glimpses of floors every so often, every five according to the number counter on the elevator, and they look dreary and dusty, and there are definitely plenty of monsters on them. Balor swears internally.

He on some level knew the danger the Mines posed to you, but to be confronted with it like this almost makes him feel bad for just letting you go by yourself with nothing but a “Good luck!” call.

He would try to deny caring for you as he always does, but by this point he doesn't think he can really do that. You’re his…precious business partner after all. A valued supplier.

March doesn’t swear internally though, his voice isn’t loud enough to echo but it’s still a startling departure from the silence that had only been broken by the creaking of the elevator.

“Fuck. I didn’t realize there were this many monsters down here. Olric, is this typical?” The blacksmith looks to his brother, who shakes his head.

“No, they stayed away from us, ‘cause I think there were so many of us. And we all got given weapons by Errol so even if one did show up we could handle it as a group.”

March swears again, “So that means the monsters are worse thanks to the Mines getting shut down, and she’s been by herself, against multiple enemies. Fucking-I should have said something!”

The blacksmith’s hand is white-knuckled around his sword and he shakes it once, as if he wanted to hit a table to let out his frustration but hitting the rickety elevator is not an option.

The intensity of March’s upset takes Balor aback. Of course anyone would be worried about the new farmer that has captured the heart of the town, but March has also been quite standoffish to them. The merchant’s instincts fire up inside him, something is up here.

And once more, before Balor can follow that train of thought, Olric calls out to them.

“We’re here!” Just before the elevator jerks to a halt.

The stop is sudden enough that Balor has to catch his footing before he stumbles off the shaking platform. Olric is fine, used to it, and surprisingly, March is fine too, glaring into the blueish-toned darkness as if it personally offended him.

Before the elevator stops swaying, March has leapt off the platform and stomped into the darkness. Olric joins after waiting for the platform to stabilize more, and Balor takes a glance at the floor number before following suit.

Floor 35…

From the elevator it’s a long and narrow hallway, where March takes the lead, with Olric close behind him. Balor realizes that at some point, the charge for this rescue mission was taken from him by the blacksmith, and that further piques his instincts that something is up. But this isn’t the time to wonder.

The two brothers are at ease in the caverns, Olric of course being familiar with the Mines, though perhaps not this deep, and somehow March has a confident grip on his weapon. Though he could be masking his uncertainty. Not that Balor could say anything about being out of his depth here.

He’s used a sword of course, but he hasn’t faced any real danger in a long time, not since before the earthquake when he was doing more traveling. But, he thinks back to the Snowdrop Anemone in his pocket, he would do a lot to make sure that you were safe.

The thought scares him, it crept up on him. You did in fact, somehow, despite his efforts to keep people at an arm’s length away, you had wiggled into the small group of people he cared about (aka the town of Mistria).

Perhaps that was what March was thinking through right now too. Balor peers at the blacksmith’s expression, but it’s too dark and he’s too far ahead to get a good read on him. He turns instead to Olric, who looks determined and mildly perplexed?

“Did you ever go this deep?” He asks curiously.

Olric shakes his head. “No, I didn't even, uh, know the Mines went this deep. We only mined copper ore on the upper floors, but uh, I thought the Mines ended at floor 20? I remember there being a sealed door or something…”

He trails off and Balor and his brother turn to stare at him with a weirded-out expression.

“What do you mean they didn’t go this deep? The elevator goes this far at the least and she’s down here.” March demands.

Olric furrows his eyebrows, “Yeah but the elevator stopped on the floor with the door, it was broken and didn’t go further..”

He pauses, opens his mouth, and closes it, and they all turn to stare down the hallway at where the elevator was hidden in the darkness.

“You mean she’s the one who fixed the elevator?! How would she know how, how would she know how to do it safely?! Did Errol and Eiland not consider this?!” March’s voice gets louder as the sentence goes on.

Olric looks stricken, and Balor shakes his head and puts a hand on the blacksmith’s shoulder.

“We can ask these questions later, for now I see some light up ahead.” He points down the hallway and indeed, there is a faint blue glow illuminating a turn in the path.

Breathing out deeply, March turns to continue down the path, and Balor and Olric follow. As they get to the bend, March pauses, and then cries out.

“Fuck!”

And starts running, disappearing from sight.

Balor goes to call after the blacksmith, but then he sees what caused the redhead to run. You’re on the ground, unmoving, and there is a puddle of slime around you, caused by a slime monster that is currently on top of your unconscious body.

March is already there, swinging with the sword, knocking the slime monster off. It lands a few feet away, near the edge of the water and gurgles out some sort of cry. From the water, two more monsters come up.

“Balor!” March calls out, but Balor is already in action, stabbing forward with his sword at one of the creatures.

He trusts that Olric will protect you and focuses on getting rid of these creatures.

One of them jumps a surprisingly large distance and he twists minimally to the side enough to dodge it and slashes down with his blade as it lands, the extra force causing it to bounce on the ground.

As it lays stunned, Balor stabs it a number of times until its slime form melts into the surrounding puddles.

He turns to see March do a well-executed wide slash that hits both remaining slime monsters, one of them melting like Balor’s, and the other bouncing near him. Repeating his bait-and-attack strategy from earlier, the creature is dead within no time.

Looking back at you, your head and shoulders are now rested on Olric’s knees, the man having kneeled down on the cavern floor, and he is digging in his backpack for something. March is already by your side, holding his hand out to your wrist.

“She’s got a heart rate.” March breathes out, his shoulders releasing some of their tension.

Olric nods, “Yeah! That’s good, but, look at her ankle.” He has taken off one of your boots.

Balor gasps as he sees the swollen ankle. It’s nearly twice the size it should be, red splotches littering the skin, though, nothing seems to be poking out that shouldn’t be at the least.

“So you’re going to stabilize the ankle before we move her?” He asks Olric, who for all his general goofiness, is competent in field (mines) first aid.

Olric nods, but March cuts in, “Why isn’t she waking up if that’s the worst of it?” His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks like a mixture of about-to-cry and pissed-beyond-hell.

Olric frowns, his mouth tugging to one side as he laces back up your boots, but tighter, so that they help stabilize your ankle. “Well, we don’t know if that’s the worst of it.”

March pauses where he’s holding your wrist. “What do you mean.”

“What Olric isn’t saying is that she could be bleeding internally, or even that she hit her head when falling, plus who knows how long that slime was leeching off of her.” Balor supplies, folding his arms and holding his chin in his hands.

Olric nods “Yeah! So that’s why we need to move her as soon as I can be sure it won’t make her worse! We were always told to be careful of head injuries and anything puncturing the lungs on the inside!”

March blanches, and immediately sets his head on your sternum, with his ear pressed against it, between your breasts. Balor’s eyes widened at the blacksmith’s actions, but he sees Olric’s lack of reaction, and considers his instincts earlier. He comes to the conclusion that he is probably missing some information and also that in this situation someone was probably going to have to listen to your breathing anyways.

“It’s raspy, and almost bubbling, is that normal?” March’s voice is level, too level, and shaking.

Olric frowns, and Balor feels that chill from earlier return and settle on his shoulders, as if someone else was watching.

No one says anything for a second. March swears.

“Fuck okay we’re going.” He doesn’t say anything else and slides his hands under your unconscious form. He lifts you bridal-style, your head flopping into the nook between his shoulder and neck.

“Ah wait Olric said we shouldn’t move her until we’re sure-” Balor starts, but March cuts him off.

“I don’t care, her breathing shouldn’t sound like that and I’m not going to wait any longer to get her to Valen.”

He heads back down the hallway to the elevator, and Balor looks at Olric, who’s already started after his brother.

“You’re good with this?”

Olric shrugs as they follow March and you. “I only know basic first aid. I can’t tell anything else wrong with her, so I’m gonna follow March here.”

They are moving faster than when they came down the hallway, and make it to the elevator in no time. Wordlessly they pile on and Olric starts it up again. The ricketyness of the elevator feels worse now, feeling that every shake makes your condition worse.

March cradles your body close to his, head leaned down close to your face. He’s murmuring something Balor can’t make out. Despite carrying you for several minutes straight, March isn’t struggling in the slightest with the weight. His legs are bent so that his muscles take the brunt of the shaking, and he’s still holding you with ease.

Despite being muscled and curved from hard labor all day, you look so small curled up in the blacksmith’s arms, and Balor feels some ugly emotion curl up in his chest. He raises a hand to push on his chest with his knuckles where he feels it.

Your presence is such an enigma. You go about your day doing your own thing, but you always stop to do small talk, and often have gifts perfect for everyone out and about. Bees for Luc, handmade Lattes for Nora, an endless supply of Tulips for Adeline despite it being summer, and, gemstones for him of course.

Balor looks at the blacksmith, and wonders what you give him.

Olric is also looking at his brother, an indescribable emotion painting his face. He raises one hand and puts it on his brother’s shoulder.

“She’ll be fine March.”

“You can’t know that, her breathing…”

Olric’s hand is unmoving.

“She’s going to be fine.”

March looks up at his brother, his eyes shining. His eyes flick briefly to meet Balor’s, and then his face flushes and he looks down and to the side.

“...okay. I trust you.”

Swallowing hard, Balor looks to Olric, who is now looking at him. The older man smiles.

“I mean it, Balor. She’s going to be fine. She’s tough and Valen is a good doctor with good medicine!”

Balor feels his own face light up with heat and now it’s his turn to be looking anywhere besides Olric’s warm and confident gaze.

“Yeah, she will.” He agrees.

The rest of the ride is silent. And after reaching the ground floor, the trio head to the Clinic swiftly and wordlessly. It’s late at night, no one is out to see them and your injured state. Balor thinks you probably would want it that way.

Considering how you didn’t tell anyone the dangers of the Mines, just took them as they came, you probably wouldn’t want them to know.

He doesn’t know how he feels about that, but, looking at the two brothers, the merchant realizes that they had at least some idea of the dangers, but were like him and left mainly out of the loop. That ugly feeling seems to root itself further into his chest. He massages the area again.

Valen is, of course, not in the clinic when they walk in. No one locks their doors at night, which Balor thinks is so painfully Mistria.

March yells out when they come in, “VALEN! WE NEED YOU, IT’S AN EMERGENCY!”

There’s a thud and a yelp from upstairs, and after a minute where the only thing Balor can hear is the sound of his elevated heart-rate, Valen appears from up the stairs, clad in a tank top and comfortable pants.

“March did you burn yoursel-Oh no.” Valen’s demeanor transforms once she sees the state of you in March’s arms, going from annoyed into Doctor Mode.

“Lay her down here please.” She instructs March, gesturing to a bed in the corner.

He seems to hesitate, unwilling to let you out of his arms, but after a moment he concedes, setting you down with an amount of tenderness that, before tonight, Balor would never expect to see from the blacksmith.

Valen immediately sets to work, bringing out tools to examine your state.

“Anything I should know about?”

Olric helpfully supplies, “She’s been unconscious for as long as we have found her, her ankle is messed up, I used her boot to try to secure it, and March said her breathing was raspy and bubbling when he listened!”

Valen pauses, “Her breathing? And in the position you found her, do you think it’s likely she hit her head?”

March nods leaning against the window, in what would be a casual pose if every line of his body wasn’t screaming with tension.

“Yes.”

Valen listens to your chest with her stethoscope. She looks up quickly at Olric and Balor feels the chill weigh heavier at the steel in her expression.

“Go get Juniper, Olric.”

Without question Olric runs out of the clinic. Valen continues examining you, carefully undoing the tight laces on the boot.

“Why Juniper?” Balor asks.

“She makes a lot of my tonics.” Is all Valen gives him, and the clinic falls back into silence.

Olric comes back, not quite slamming the door open, and an irate Juniper is right behind him.

“This better be important Valen beca-Oh my!” She stops in the middle of the room once she sees you, unconscious on the bed. She looks at Balor, then at March, and at Valen.

Her demeanor hardens. “What do you need?”

Valen nods “I’ll need some of that potion you tested last week, and a strong Restorative Syrup.”

Juniper frowns, “The syrup is fine, but the potion is barely tested.”

“If it works it’ll be the best thing we can give her, as all of her injuries are internal and I can’t fix those easily. She also has a bad concussion.”

Juniper wrinkles her nose but turns and heads out the clinic without argument, she calls out, “Olric come help me!” And off they go.

A beat of silence and March asks, “What are those going to do?”

Valen looks at him, as if she is mildly piqued they are still here, but tells him, “The Restorative Syrup will stimulate her natural healing to work faster, which is good in case there are any broken bones.”

Balor asks “Why not a full Healing Syrup then?”

“Because it works so fast it may heal the bones wrong.” Valen rebukes patiently.

Balor blanches, and feels the chill from earlier curl tighter around his spine.

“What about that other potion, Juniper didn’t seem confident about it.” March quizzes Valen.

But the doctor doesn’t look bothered by his tone, and just responds, “Juniper is just a perfectionist. The potion is fine, and it’s one that should boost our farmer’s natural healing factor. The Restorative Syrup only makes her healing work faster, what would take a week will take two hours, but this new potion will boost it, so that it will take only an hour.”

That’s…kind of incredible said out loud. Why has he not realized Juniper was sitting on a landmine of cash with those products here?

“But I still need to set the splint so that her ankle heals properly, and she’ll be quite unstable for a few days. No farming for sure, and definitely no wandering around for her. She’s going to need to stay in bed.”

Valen stops talking there, and Balor tilts his head, waiting for her to say more, before he realizes she’s looking between him and March. March looks like he’s in the same boat, his frown small and quirked to the side, eyebrows raised.

Valen raises her own eyebrow, and drawls out the question, “Well? Which one of you two boys is going to make sure she stays in bed? She has animals to feed and crops to tend, someone is going to have to do it for her.”

Balor meets March’s dark-colored eyes, and as he opens his mouth March is faster, saying,

“I’ll do it.”

“You have the forge, and orders to do.” The ugly feeling from earlier nestles next to the chill.

“Olric can handle them for a few days, and it’s not like I’ll be down there all day. You have to go to the neighboring city for a supply trip tomorrow, remember?”

Frowning, Balor realizes March is right. He does need to go get more supplies. Looking to Valen, who, if he didn’t know any better, would say has an amused smirk on her face, the merchant sighs.

“You’re right. March will watch her.” The last part was directed to the doctor, who merely “hmms” in response, focused on wrapping your foot.

The silence feels heavier somehow, March is looking at him strangely. Balor can feel the younger man’s inquisitive stare, but just continues looking at your unconscious face. You look so peaceful. Maybe he can leave some books on your doorstep so you’re not bored while you recover.

Juniper and Olric come back through into the clinic just then. The bathkeeper strides across the room and hands Valen two bottles. She has a self-satisfied expression on her face.

“These are good.”

Valen looks into her purple eyes and holds them for a second. Then nods.

“I know, thank you. I’ll pay you later for them, at a more reasonable hour.”

Juniper seems taken aback, and even though she is standing over Valen it’s like the doctor’s presence is looming over the younger woman.

“W-well, that is..you don’t need to. Just keeping our local farmer alive after all. No payment needed, the…renown is good enough.” She’s visibly flustered, and Balor can see faint traces of amusement in the doctor’s stoney expression.

“I’m going back to bed if that’s all you need?” Juniper looks back at Valen, and given a nod, does so.

The three men watch as Valen examines the tonics, then shifts you so you’re sitting upright with one of her steady hands behind your head. She first administers a purple one, and then a familiar green one down your throat.

Everyone stares at you for a few minutes.

Balor startles as Valen calmly reaches for her stethoscope and listens to your breathing once more. March’s eyes follow her every movement.

The doctor nods once, her expression smoothing out.

“She’ll be fine. Her breathing is clearing up.”

Balor breathed out heavily, feeling the ever-present chill finally fade away. Olric and March similarly look relieved, the former smiling, and the latter’s eyebrows having unfurrowed.

“Thanks doctor! That’s a relief!” Olric says, giving Valen a pat on the back.

She raises an eyebrow at him, but is also smiling. “You did a good job with the laces on the boot. Smarter than trying to do a splint.”

Olric looks bashful, “Ahh well, you know! It’s Errol’s doing with his first aid stuff he used to teach us!”

He looks at his younger brother, who’s still staring at you. Olric’s expression melts slightly, and Balor can almost see the cogs turning in his head as he then says,

“March I’m heading back first. I’ll set something out for you so you eat, okay?”

“..’kay.”

“Thanks doc, thanks Balor! Good night!” Balor blinks at being addressed, still in a daze of relief, mutters a goodbye, and Olric heads out, the door swinging shut behind him.

Valen addresses him and March at the same time as she says, “I will also be heading back to bed. If you remain in the clinic, be quiet, please.”

She turns to head back upstairs but March calls out, looking panicked at the thought of the doctor leaving, “Wait! Are you just going to leave her here? It’s only been a few minutes since the potions were administered!”

The older woman meets March’s heated expression. “She’ll be fine, March, I guarantee it.”

They stare at each other, before March nods. Valen smiles at him reassuringly, and the blacksmith blushes and looks down at you.

Valen turns and heads back up the stairs. Balor stares after her, licks his dry lips, and looks back at March. The blacksmith has already taken Valen’s place in the chair next to you, and the most tender-yet-conflicted expression Balor has seen is painted on his face.

His fist finds its way to his sternum again, Balor frowns at the feeling. The panic is over, can this feeling in his chest just go away please?

March reaches out, and pushes one of the locks of your hair off your face, curling it around your ear. Okay.

“I’m going to get going too, March.”

Balor waits for a response, and then turns to leave after a beat of silence. Just as he touches the door handle he hears behind him.

“Thanks, Balor.”

He meets March’s eyes. “For what.”

Something flickers over the blacksmith’s face, but he responds, “For getting someone, us, to help. For helping.”

Balor felt like he was more of an observer than anything this whole time, but he just accepts the thanks.

“It’s nothing March, just…gotta take care of one of my key suppliers, right?”

It sounds weak to him, and he doesn’t meet the blacksmith’s prying gaze.

“I’m heading out early in the morning, so I will be gone before she wakes. Take care of her for me, okay?”

Balor forces himself to smile and wink at March, who just stares at him with a neutral frown.

The night air is cool, and calming after the events. It’s different from the chill that had gripped him all night.

As Balor heads down to the inn, he ponders setting some Tesserae on the counter and just grabbing one of the beers to help him go to sleep.

#fom #fields of mistria #farmer x march #fom march #farmer x balor #fom balor #fom olric #fom valen #fom juniper #depictions of violence #hurt/comfort

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