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“You’re walking strangely,” Mithrun said, ever eloquent.
Kabru straightened up, suddenly a bit self conscious. He thought he’d been hiding the discomfort just fine. Apparently that wasn’t the case.
They’d just finished fighting off the griffin as best they could, but Kabru had misstepped while running, ankle rolling in a way it shouldn’t. He’d been trying to ignore the pain as the adrenaline wore off, but that was certainly easier said than done.
“Yeah,” Kabru admitted. “I think I twisted my ankle back there.”
Mithrun’s brow furrowed, just slightly.
“You’ll slow us down. Sit.”
Reluctantly, Kabru complied. He took a few more hobbling steps to the nearest chest and settled down onto it, double checking for mimics before doing so. Taking his weight off of the injury really did make a big difference, but the pain was still there, unignorable.
Mithrun knelt down in front of him, wasting no time before reaching for Kabru’s bootlaces. Kabru pushed his hand away before he could move to untie them.
“I’ve got it,” Kabru said firmly. There were a few downsides to traveling with someone who had a one track mind towards a single goal. One of them was that sometimes Mithrun forgot to give any thought to politeness. Or patience.
Mithrun settled his hand in his lap, waiting for him to finish the task.
Kabru carefully set down the griffin egg that they'd worked so hard to snatch before reaching for his boot. He undid his laces easily, freeing his injured foot from the offending leather. By the time he peeled his sock off it was clear that it was already swollen. He extended it out to Mithrun.
“Alright, do your worst,” Kabru said, bracing himself for the pain that often accompanied healing magic.
Mithrun placed a hand over his ankle. Instead of the momentary shock of pain he’d expected, there was the strange sensation of the whole area going numb, like his nerves had been switched off.
He supposed he should consider himself lucky that he was down here with a skilled magic user. From what he understood, dampening the pain involved some fairly complicated spellwork, but perhaps he should have figured that someone versed in something as advanced as teleportation wouldn’t give it a second thought. Still, he imagined it took a while to perfect a spell that would numb pain to such a degree. Even Holm’s healing had usually felt like a sharp pinch at the best of times.
Kabru watched with fascination as the healing magic did its work, the way the swelling went down in an instant, the way the joint shifted back into place seemingly of its own accord.
Mithrun removed his hand. Normal sensation returned the moment the contact broke.
Kabru flexed his ankle experimentally. No more pain, full range of motion. All seemed well.
“You sprained it,” Mithrun reported.
“Did I?” Kabru asked, even though he’d known well that it had been a distinct possibility.
“It doesn’t make sense for you to hide injuries from me,” Mithrun said as he pushed himself back up to his feet.
“I just didn’t want you wasting any more mana until we knew we were safe.”
“I’ll waste more if you die,” Mithrun replied bluntly.
Quietly, Kabru hoped that comment meant that Mithrun would actually extend the effort to resurrect him in a worst case scenario. Assuming Kabru even had enough body mass left for that to be accomplished successfully…
“Stand,” Mithrun said.
Kabru had a half a mind to ignore him for not even having the courtesy to tack on a ‘please,’ but he did pull his boot back on before moving to stand, putting the weight on his newly healed foot slowly. Then he put his full weight on it, took a few steps to test it.
“It seems fine now,” Kabru confirmed.
Mithrun just nodded.
Kabru leaned down to retrieve the egg, taking extra care not to crack it and waste their efforts.
With his own injuries tended to, Kabru took a moment to look Mithrun over. His movements seemed sluggish now, eyelid drooping just slightly.
“How about we rest for the night?” Kabru suggested.
“I don’t feel tired,” Mithrun protested.
“You look tired,” Kabru said. “Come on, there’s got to be a good spot somewhere around here…”
He took a few steps forward, scanning the environment. Mithrun, to his credit, did follow.
-
Kabru walked carefully, trying his best not to spill so much as a drop of the bowl of soup he held in his hands.
As expected, he saw Mithrun again by the main body of the dragon. Falin. Whichever.
Kabru paused a moment to watch Mithrun as he worked, how he’d teleport that sheet into a chunk of meat about twice the size of his body, then pull it away with a graceful twist of his body, leaving two smaller pieces behind. Kabru had seldom seen teleportation magic performed before he met him. It could be a bit mesmerizing to watch.
Kabru shook his head, though, snapping himself out of the daze he’d fallen into. He was on something of a mission right now.
“Mithrun!” Kabru called out.
Mithrun paused in his work, sparing a glance over to him. His hair was a bit mussed now, a smudge of dragon blood across his cheek.
It could still be so difficult to read Mithrun at times, even with Kabru’s skills. Mithrun’s expression gave no clear indication as to how he felt about his interruption. Kabru was trying to learn to be okay with not always knowing.
Kabru came up beside him, presenting the bowl to him with what he hoped was an encouraging smile.
“I brought some food for you. It’s a red dragon noodle soup,” He said, as if that would tempt him. Maybe it could now, a small, hopeful part of him thought. “Senshi recommended it.”
“I’m not hungry right now,” Mithrun turned back to the closest piece of meat, cutting it evenly in half once more. “You should pass it on to someone else.”
Kabru worked his jaw. He supposed he couldn’t use his usual trick of baiting him into eating with the promise that it would help him defeat the demon anymore. He’d have to try something else.
“You know, we all really need to work together to eat everything if were going to get this done properly,” Kabru said, offering the bowl to him once again. “This is important work too.”
And Mithrun did spare the bowl a glance at that, at least. Kabru was hopeful for a moment, but then Mithrun’s gaze shifted.
“You have a burn,” Mithrun said.
Kabru’s eyes fell on the mark on his forearm. He’d already forgot about that. It was about the size of two fingers in width and length. Nothing severe but it was noticeable, and admittedly it did look a bit worse than it did when he last checked, a few blisters rising on the spot now.
“Yeah, I bumped into a stove earlier,” Kabru said, trying to brush past the subject. “It isn’t really-“
Without warning, Mithrun put a hand over the mark. Instead of the sting he instinctively expected at the contact, there was nothing, a sudden absence of pain. Then Mithrun removed his hand and it was like the burn was never there at all.
“Oh. Thanks, but you didn’t have-”
Mithrun staggered forward before Kabru could finish the thought. Kabru caught his shoulder with his free hand, nearly spilling the soup he held in his other one. Mithrun grabbed his arm for support, righting himself.
“Let’s sit you down for a minute,” Kabru said, trying to use Mithrun’s grip on his arm to his advantage by steering him away from the dragon meat.
“I’m not done cutting it,” Mithrun protested, looking back as Kabru coaxed him into taking a step away.
“Just for a minute,” Kabru insisted. “The kitchens have a pretty good supply right now. You won’t slow them down.”
Mithrun relented then, finally let Kabru half drag him to the closest tent with a chair to sit him in. He sat down with an expression that Kabru quietly categorized as a pout.
“You don’t have to look after me anymore,” Mithrun said after settling down. “We’re not in the dungeon.”
“Think of it as common courtesy, given that you nearly passed out,” Kabru said.
“I just tripped.”
Bullshit, Kabru thought. He looked Mithrun over. It was possible he was low on mana, since he’d stumbled specifically after healing him. It was also possible the canaries haven’t been keeping a close enough eye on him in the chaos of the feast, hadn’t quite realized the extent to which he was overworking himself yet.
“If you ate and rested for a bit, I bet you’d have a lot more energy. You’d be able to get everything done a lot faster, too,” Kabru suggested.
“I’m not tired.” Mithrun stood up again, much to Kabru’s dismay. He seemed to be steady at least, but Kabru wasn’t sure it would last. “Someone from my squadron will tell me when I have to eat.”
Mithrun turned to leave.
“Mithrun-” Kabru said, reaching out to grab his wrist.
Mithrun stopped in his tracks. He looked at Kabru’s hand on his wrist, then looked up at him.
Kabru knew there were other ways he could try to manipulate him into it, other strings to pull. Instead, a single word tumbled out of his mouth of its own accord.
“Please?”
Mithrun stood still for a while, long enough that Kabru considered submitting to the embarrassment of repeating himself. Kabru released his wrist, a bit sheepishly, but Mithrun didn’t move to leave.
After a moment, slowly, Mithrun reached out to take the bowl from Kabru’s hands.
-
Running a kingdom came with its own set of risks. Kabru knew this, of course. Still, it was unfortunate that they’d had an incident so soon.
“You didn’t have to follow me back here,” Kabru said.
Mithrun didn’t say anything in response.
When Mithrun had tagged along with Kabru as he headed back to his room for the day, Kabru had hoped he’d at least offer him some sort of distraction. Some conversation at least, something to occupy his mind in lieu of proper work. Instead, Mithrun was unusually quiet, lingered in the center of the room like something that was waiting to be animated.
“You did fine, see?” Kabru held up his arm to the light, showed off the freshly healed skin. There wasn’t even a mark where the knife had struck him. He didn’t expect anything less when it came to Mithrun’s healing abilities. “It didn’t even hurt.”
His assailant had been fairly unskilled in his combat techniques. Truthfully, it had been more of an act of show than an assassination attempt against the king proper, some minor lord unhappy with the recent shifts in power trying to let off some steam. Unfortunately, the element of surprise was still enough of an advantage that Kabru had sustained a strike across his forearm while trying to disarm the man.
Laios was fine. Shaken, but fine. That was what was important. The wound had been a small price to pay to secure the stability of the kingdom.
Kabru was fine too. Luckily, Mithrun had been scarcely ten feet away, had been there to inform him about recent developments in his scouting of the borders of Melini. He had taken on the impromptu role of healer before anyone else could think to act.
“Do you want me to leave?” Mithrun asked. His expression was inscrutable.
With the situation under control and the assailant safely now detained, Kabru had been told to take the rest of the day off. Ordered to, to be exact. By both Laios and Yaad. He would have much preferred to continue working for the day, truth be told, but he wasn’t about to expel himself from either one’s good graces by disobeying. Still, he didn’t see how being unoccupied in his room was meant to help him recover from the incident. Mithrun’s presence was the only thing keeping him from resigning himself to spending the rest of the day memorizing the texture of his ceiling.
“You can stay,” Kabru said.
Mithurn nodded, accepting his verdict silently.
“Come here, sit down at least. Sorry about the mess.” Kabru started collecting the papers that had accumulated on his bed. They seemed to always end up migrating here from his office somehow. He gathered them into a hasty pile and pushed it to the side, clearing a space for Mithrun. There wasn’t anywhere else to sit other than the floor at present. Which was currently littered with clothes.
Truthfully, the mess was the only sign of the space being lived in. There was a bed, there was a dresser of his clothes, there was his armor tucked away in a closet, and not much else. Scarcely any personal effects, no decoration. Certainly nowhere proper for a guest to sit. He probably should have thought of that before letting Mithrun in. How could such a glaring issue slip his mind like that?
“And sorry that the room’s a bit barren right now as well,” Kabru continued. “I haven’t had the chance to move in much yet. I’m sure you can tell it’s been hectic here lately.”
More accurately, Kabru had been much too preoccupied with his work to care about that. It had been a few weeks now, and most everyone else had settled in. He just spent so little time in here he couldn’t really bring himself to see it as much of a priority.
Mithrun obeyed his instructions, sat down on the bed rather stiffly. He was still oddly quiet. Kabru tried to ignore the increasingly awkward atmosphere the silence created. It was a valiant effort.
“Have you eaten yet today?” Kabru asked. “I could wave someone from our staff down and have them bring over a meal. I suppose it’s probably not too exciting to you, but the convenience of that is still a bit of a novelty for me,” Kabru rambled on, trying to fill the empty, terribly quiet room with his voice. “I usually tell them to just bring whatever they happen to have on hand if I don’t have the time to sit down with Laios and everyone for a full meal, but we can request a specific dish if you think you need something more filling.”
Mithrun didn’t respond. Instead, he shifted his position on the bed to face Kabru bodily, expression dark and pointed. It was a posture that was unmistakably confrontational.
Kabru's brow furrowed. “What?” He asked, maybe a bit sharper than he’d meant to.
“You can’t be resurrected anymore,” Mithrun said firmly, his eye practically boring a hole into him. “You need to be more careful with your own life.”
“I know that,” Kabru insisted. Did Mithrun think he didn’t? He wasn’t a child. “I am careful. I’m fine, aren’t I?”
Mithrun suddenly grabbed his wrist, orienting it so the veins of his forearm faced upwards in demonstration.
“Your injury was here.” Mithrun pressed a finger to his inner arm. He shifted his finger over about a centimeter to the right. “If it had been here-”
“Artery, I know.” Kabru took his arm back with a sharp flick of his wrist. “It’s still my duty to protect the king. Laios’s life needs to be placed above mine. You know that.”
Mithrun worked his jaw, placed his hand down on his lap. Then he looked away. Kabru waited for him to say something, but he neither spoke up nor made any move to leave.
They sat silently for a moment. Kabru scrambled for a way to diffuse the new, strange tension that seemed to make the whole room grow cold. He just wanted him to forget about this whole incident as quickly as possible.
“Pretty embarrassing I let him get a cut in at all, huh?” Kabru said with a small smile. “I guess my sparring skills are rusty.”
Mithrun did not take the bait. He continued to stare down at his hands, blankly.
Kabru felt like he was on unsure footing now. Somehow, he suddenly felt he’d rather disarm another knife-wielding would-be assassin than try to navigate this conversation.
He really hadn’t expected the incident to so deeply shake Mithrun of all people, but he could only assume that was the reaction he was now seeing. That was probably foolish of him, an obvious miscalculation. Of course it would be upsetting for anyone to see someone they know get attacked so unexpectedly. Not to mention that they had been spending some more time together after the feast, a spare meal here, a night to see a play there. Perhaps Kabru had underestimated how attached Mithrun had become. The thought made something in his chest twist.
Kabru reached out to him, placing a hand carefully on his arm.
“Hey,” Kabru said softly, aiming for reassurance. “I’m alright. Okay?”
Mithrun looked up at him again, finally meeting his gaze. It seemed Kabru’s guess was right, that this hit closer to what was wrong. There was a strange, strained look in Mithrun’s eyes that Kabru was struggling to place. What was it about Mithrun that seemed to always throw him a bit off kilter?
“You don’t have to be,” Mithrun said quietly. “Someone tried to kill you.”
Kabru kept his hand on Mithrun’s arm, but something in his words made his grip tighten, just slightly. He was right, of course, but it was different to hear him say it so bluntly. It made it sink in a bit more, maybe. After all, if Mithrun hadn’t been there, and if no one else adept at healing magic had been on hand, and if that laceration had been a little bit to the side…
Still though, it was no reason to be upset, right? It wasn’t like this was the first time. Usually he’d be done in by monsters in the dungeon, but early on he had fucked up badly enough to get killed by a human before. Not to mention the incident with those corpse retrievers, whose actions weren’t quite the same but were certainly driven by the same intentions. A stray disgraced minor lord trying to take his frustrations out with a blade was nothing.
…Wasn’t it nothing?
Mithrun placed his hand over Kabru’s, eased it off of his arm so he could hold it between his own two hands properly. Kabru gripped back weakly. It was his turn for his gaze to waver now, eyes drifting to a corner of the room. Now that the adrenaline had thoroughly worn off his head was starting to swim.
He wasn’t upset by this. He wouldn’t let himself be upset by this. It was one cut with a knife, healed almost as quickly as it had been made. He’d sustained injuries much worse. He’d died in ways much worse.
Something in him told him he’d better pull his hand away from Mithrun, insist again that all was fine before running off and hiding somewhere to lick his metaphorical wounds in solitude. A quiet corner of an infrequently visited courtyard, one of the many rooms in the castle still being used as storage until more proper uses for them could be sorted out. He had all sorts of places like that mapped out in his mind, just in case.
But even as a particularly convincing excuse formed in his mind, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud. He couldn’t even bring himself to move.
Mithrun gripped Kabru’s hand just a little tighter, snapping his attention back to him. He looked at him with intent. Even through the haze Kabru suddenly found himself in, he understood what Mithrun was silently offering.
Kabru slumped forward, burying his face in Mithrun’s shoulder. Mithrun freed one of his hands to wrap an arm around him, pulling him in close.
This was pointless, childish of him surely. Barely anything had even happened. He didn’t have the right to be upset, not really.
Mithrun ran a hand up and down Kabru’s back in small, uncertain motions. The touch of someone who was unused to providing comfort and had no choice but to play it by ear.
Kabru told himself he would pull away from Mithrun’s embrace after about ten seconds, a normal amount of time given the circumstances surely. He didn’t need any more than that. But then when those ten seconds were up he found he couldn’t bring himself to. So he added another ten seconds. And then another...
After a certain point, Kabru stopped counting. All he was certain of was that they stayed that way for a long time.
-
“And make sure you visit, alright?” the barkeeper said, waving a finger at Kabru for emphasis. “Don’t you move out of my cellar and just forget all about me.”
“Of course not, I’ll make sure to stop by when I can,” Kabru said with a smile. He’d been slowly moving his belongings out of his now former room over the course of the week. Admittedly, there hadn’t been much to move in the first place. The last handful of odds and ends were currently in a bag slung over his shoulder.
“And hey, you think you could make liquor licenses a bit cheaper while you’re up there?”
Kabru chuckled good naturedly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Here,” the barkeeper said, placing a mug of beer on the counter in front of him. “On the house. For old time’s sake.”
“Thank you,” Kabru said, settling down on the closest bar stool. He supposed one drink wouldn’t delay him too badly. It would be rude to refuse. “Sorry for any trouble I’ve caused you.”
“None at all, none at all,” he said, waving a hand.
With a final smile he stepped away, shifting his attention back to the other patrons. It was a weekday evening, but it seemed it was always busy here no matter what time of day or night. The noise that came with that was one thing Kabru certainly wouldn’t miss about staying in the basement.
Kabru lifted the mug of beer, taking a slow sip. He decided to take this as an opportunity to fall back on his habit of people watching. His interest fell mainly on a table of familiar elves only a dozen or so feet away…
Kabru gave them another glance, briefly, so as not to draw their attention. It seemed Fleki, Lycion, and Pattadol were here today, for some reason, getting drinks. Or rather, Fleki and Lycion were getting drinks. Pattadol watched on, sitting ramrod straight and seeming to be trying to exude as much authority as possible. A valiant effort while watching after two drunken coworkers at barely the start of the evening.
Kabru assumed Fleki and Lycion were having one last drink before being sent off back west, either to beg for a pardon in light of their work here or to have their illicit magic skills applied elsewhere. They’d been lingering in Melini, likely in light of the shaky establishment of the new kingdom, the queen probably keeping them around as a precaution in case she saw some kind of opportunity in the uncertain state of things. Given that the chain of command had become increasingly settled in the new kingdom as Melini found more solid footing, he suspected their luck was running out. It was only a matter of time before they’d have to return.
He’d noticed them when he’d first come back up from the basement, of course. But the whole situation with them had put him off on engaging with them directly if it could be avoided. Surely keeping tabs on the going-ons of anyone actively working under the elven monarchy would be useful, though. If he really made a reach he could say he was practically on the clock right now.
So he sipped his beer, trying to be subtle as he listened in on them. Fleki seemed to be lamenting something at present, quite loudly.
“Ugh, just imagine, I could’ve had it all! Luxury, leisure…” she started. Kabru noticed three empty mugs about the size of his own around her.
“More time for mushrooms?” Lycion said, his voice smooth enough to almost miss the hint of teasing in the comment.
“That too!” Fleki exclaimed, either too drunk to notice she was being made fun of or too confident to care. “But of course mister death wish has to screw it all up.”
“It’s not a death wish,” Pattadol said defensively, brow furrowing. “He’s taking on very important work here, and he’s certainly the most qualified for it.”
“With no resurrection spells,” Fleki said, unimpressed. “Death wish.”
“He was undefeated before this particular incident,” Lycion said. “Perhaps he does stand a chance.”
“Do you want to stay with him then?” Fleki asked, pointing so close to Lycion’s face she was nearly touching the tip of his nose.
Lycion’s smile diligently remained on his face, but visibly became more strained.
“That’s what I thought,” Fleki said smugly, taking another sip of beer.
“Perhaps if things were different…” Lycion said, seeming to be reminiscing on something now.
“Oh no, not the lovesick puppydog routine. I’m not drunk enough yet,” Fleki said, faking a gag.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Lycion said evenly. If the comment bothered him he was doing a good job of hiding it.
“This time,” Fleki said. She placed a hand on his arm in a mock comforting gesture before continuing. “It’s okay Lycion, I’m sure Mithrun would really suck in bed anyway.”
“Fleki!” Pattadol exclaimed, her face now bright red.
“What?” Fleki said, gesturing with her beer and spilling quite a bit of it on the floor in the process. “C’mon, we all know he’d probably just lie there.”
Before Pattadol’s indignant sputtering could form a coherent reply, Lycion spoke up again.
“I just mean day to day there might be challenges. If one only had him as a teammate.”
“He’s usually not that bad once he's out of a dungeon. It wouldn’t have been much more work than usual,” Fleki said.
“I was thinking more along the lines of, say, if one were to get injured while low on mana. With only Mithrun as company,” Lycion continued.
Something about that sentence seemed to make something click in Fleki’s mind. She sat up straighter, slapping a palm against her forehead.
“Aw shit, I didn’t even think of that.” Fleki downed more beer, polishing off what seemed to be the fourth mug of the night. She put the empty mug down with the others and let out a sigh. “I guess that’d be a problem either way… there’s just no winning,” Fleki finished the thought by dramatically dropping her forehead down on the table.
“So it goes,” Lycion said with a shrug, taking a sip from his own mug.
“I swear every time he healed me it felt like he was breaking two new bones,” Fleki said, not yet lifting her head from the table but pivoting to face towards Lycion again.
Kabru continued to listen in silently, trying not to let it show on his face that he felt a bit thrown by this new information. He’d never felt so much as a pinch whenever Mithrun healed him. Had he simply improved since he last had to use his skills on anyone in his squad? Kabru couldn’t really imagine him taking the time for that given the way he was animated solely by the desire for revenge and self annihilation during that time. Did he just not bother muting the sensation with subordinates specifically? It wasn’t like Mithrun was immune to the sort of superiority complex rampant among elven nobles. But then, it wouldn’t make any sense to breed resentment among his team with blatant favoritism like that, would clearly only hamper his goal of defeating the demon with no benefits.
…Was it possible this was something he only did with Kabru? What reason could he possibly have for that, what strategic advantage? He’d been reliant on Kabru to take care of him, but he’d been reliant on the other canaries as well. So what had made Kabru different? Unless… maybe his reasons weren’t necessarily something based on strategy.
Kabru had noticed some signs early on, the way Mithrun’s gaze lingered on him, how it would trace over his body. He’d noticed it even back when they were in the dungeon, though not quite at the start. Kabru knew he was attractive of course, he wasn’t shy about that, but he hadn’t thought much of it at the time. He’d seen Mithrun’s approximation of him through the shapeshifter after all, figured there was little more to it than simple observation, at best perhaps fleeting curiosity. Not true desire, of course. But now? As the time they spent together began to lengthen, as touches started to linger? As he still caught Mithrun watching him sometimes? He’d suspected, just a bit, there was something more to it. Could this be related? Was it ridiculous to even try to draw such a connection?
“How is it even possible for him to be so bad at it?” Fleki continued, snapping Kabru’s attention back to the scene at hand.
“Technically it is safer not to take any painkilling measures” Pattadol said, an official, matter-of-fact tone slipping into her voice.
“Safer?!” Fleki exclaimed. “You’re telling me you think Mithrun cares about practicing magic safely? With how he teleports?”
“He tries his best!” Pattadol said, once again on the defensive.
“Have you ever even gotten healed by him before?” Fleki asked, pointing at her for emphasis.
“W-well, no, but-” Pattadol started.
Unfortunately, it seemed Kabru had slipped up a bit while trying to process all of this, had zoned out while facing the wrong angle. In a moment that certainly should not have happened, he and Fleki locked eyes. And worse yet, he saw her eyes widen in recognition.
“Hey, that tallman guy’s here!” she said, gesturing widely, seemingly not caring how many other patrons heard her yell at him from two tables away, apparently. Kabru did a quick calculation in his head as to what the odds were that they’d chase him if he made a break for the exit. With their level of intoxication, it was probably fairly high. He’d have to just see how this played out, it seemed. Her tone seemed light, he doubted that she wanted any sort of fight.
“Kabru,” Kabru corrected. He did not think he would miss the rest of the canaries very much once they left.
“Sure, yeah,” Fleki said, waving a hand dismissively, probably already forgetting again. “You know all about this right? After spending all that time stuck alone with Mithrun?”
“Know about what?” Kabru asked, aiming for innocent curiosity. He wasn’t about to let them know he was listening in on all of that. He also stood from his seat at the bar and reluctantly walked over to their table, hoping that would make Fleki at least consider controlling her volume. Lycion gave a displeased look but made no move.
“That he's bad at healing,” Fleki said. “He never thinks to suppress the pain at all. It’s awful, right?”
For just a moment, Kabru considered disagreeing. This was, of course, not his experience in the slightest. But he also got the feeling revealing that wouldn’t be right, that it might reveal something about Mithrun that a more guarded version of himself wouldn’t want others to know.
And besides, if he was honest, she’d probably project all sorts of meaning onto that revelation, would find it a point of curiosity and amusement, and who knew how long he’d be stuck here in that case. On the other hand, if he agreed with Fleki, his use as a point in her argument would be fulfilled immediately, and it would be much easier for him to slip away sooner rather than later.
He opted to lie.
Kabru summoned up the best false grimace he could manage, face scrunching up as if recalling a memory of extreme pain.
“God, yeah,” Kabru said. He even made sure to rub at his neck a bit, as if feeling bad about speaking negatively in this way. “I try not to even remember that.”
“See?” Fleki said to Pattadol.
Pattadol crossed her arms. “Maybe he just hasn’t performed that sort of spell in a while. He could just need a refresher…”
Fleki rolled her eyes.
Kabru took this renewed bickering session as his opportunity to quietly slip away.
He stepped out of the bar, let the chill of the air wash over him as he began to walk. He’d need some time to think this over, to decide how to proceed from here. It was something of a crossroads, wasn’t it? To decide whether to act on this or simply keep the knowledge to himself? He supposed there wasn’t much of a rush, now that Mithrun had confirmed he’d be staying in Melini for the foreseeable future. They had the time. For now, at least.
-
Preparations for the ball were so intensive that Kabru found himself wishing the celebration would start already, purely so it could be over.
Practically everyone in the castle was preparing for a grand harvest ball, largely intended as a display of Melini’s abundance and newfound power. It was to be the first major royal celebration hosted in the kingdom, unless the feast of the red dragon counted, and it had to be completely perfect if Melini was to be established as a dignified power to be reckoned with. Kabru had been wasting no time personally ensuring everything would be perfect. Sleep had been a secondary concern at best lately, admittedly.
“Everything looks really good so far!” Laios said proudly, looking over the main dining hall. The tables were all set out now, as well as most of the decorations. Strings of leaves and simple light spells dazzled the room.
“It’s been coming along pretty well,” Kabru agreed. “But there’s still a lot to be done, unfortunately.”
“Has the kitchen been stocked for the feast yet?” Laios asked. Food continued to be top priority for him. Which was fair enough, Kabru supposed. That alone could make or break the celebration.
“Mostly,” Kabru said. “We’re still waiting on the last shipment of eggs…”
“These decorations are so beautiful!” Marcille said, eyes tracing the entirety of the room. She brought a hand to her cheek. “Ah, I still need to decide what to wear for this! Oh, and I guess I’ll have to find someone who can pick out a suitable hairstyle for a ball, too...”
Kabru, admittedly, stopped paying much attention to Marcille’s words as she continued. He noticed as a group of people lugging some larger crates entered the room, with Mithrun tagging along behind them. Kabru had asked him if he’d be able to use his teleportation abilities to help bypass a staircase or two while they moved some of the larger boxes of supplies around, and much to his surprise Mithrun had agreed without much hesitation. He must not have had much else scheduled for today, he supposed.
Kabru continued to watch him as the others filed out, giving Mithrun waves of thanks as they left. The job must be done now.
“Do you want to go talk to him?” Marcille asked, snapping Kabru’s attention back to her.
“Well, I suppose I should check how moving everything went,” Kabru said.
“Uh-huh” Marcille said, something mischievous in her voice. She seemed to be… invested in his and Mithrun’s companionship at present. “Go ahead! Me and Laios will just be flitting around here for a while in the meantime.”
“It’ll just be a moment,” Kabru said. “I’ll catch up with you two in a bit.”
Kabru slipped away, walking to Mithrun, who stood alone now. Sensing his approach, Mithrun turned to face him. Did he imagine it, the way Mithrun’s eye softened when it fell on him, just a bit?
“Hi Mithrun, how’s everything going?” Kabru asked.
“Fine,” he said. “I believe this is everything that needed to be moved.”
“Perfect! Thank you for agreeing to help out, by the way,” Kabru said, placing a friendly hand on his arm.
“It’s no issue,” Mithrun said.
“You’ve been pacing yourself, right?” Kabru asked.
“Yes. Your staff has been ensuring that.”
Kabru nodded at that. They better have been, since he’d pulled two of them aside and instructed that rather strictly.
“And you?” Mithrun asked.
“What about me?”
“Are you pacing yourself?”
“Oh,” Kabru said. He waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll pace myself once everything is set up.”
“That’s not really-”
“Ah, this is the silverware, right?” Kabru asked, walking over to one of the crates. “The kitchen said to leave this with them. I think they want to check we got the right ones.” With admittedly a bit more effort than expected, Kabru gripped the crate and started to lift it. It was certainly on the heavier side, but it was manageable.
“I’ll do it,” Mithrun offered. “I’m here already.”
“No, it’s fine, I’ve got it,” Kabru said, trying his best to hide any strain in his voice as he took a few steps. “I’m sure you’ve used enough mana already. It won’t take long t-”
Kabru slipped. He wasn’t sure if he’d overestimated his strength, or if the floor was a bit more recently polished than he expected, or if he was just exhausted and had grown clumsy, but he fell forward, the corner of the crate jamming into his hand on impact, crushing it into the floor. A searing pain flooded every open space in his mind. He’d definitely broken it.
Kabru grit his teeth together as he fought down the urge to cry out.
Mithrun was beside him in an instant. The crate was gone, presumably teleported elsewhere. A hand wrapped itself carefully around the one Kabru instinctively clutched to his chest, the pain melting away. Despite the sudden lack of sensation, he swore he could feel the cool flow of Mithrun’s mana as he healed him, weaving its way through skin and muscle and bone. After what couldn’t have been more than a second or two, Mithrun pulled Kabru's hand away from his chest carefully, as Kabru tried to process the fact that he was now unharmed.
“Are you alright?” Mithrun asked.
Kabru nodded. Mithrun’s hand was still entwined with his own. It was strange, the way the cool burst of mana was replaced with a pleasant warmth now.
Unfortunately, he heard the clatter of footsteps heading towards them then, and the reality that a lot of people probably just saw that sunk in. He took his hand back with a quiet thanks, tried to hide any traces of embarrassment.
“Kabru! Are you okay?” Marcille exclaimed, rushing over. Laios trailed behind her, looking equally concerned.
“I’m fine, Mithrun got it,” Kabru said, holding his other hand up to placate her. He pushed himself back up to his feet, and Mithrun wasn’t far behind.
“You’re sure?” Laios asked.
“Yeah, definitely,” Kabru said.
Laios paused for a moment, bringing a hand to his chin, an almost cartoonish representation of thinking for a while before speaking.
“You know, you’ve been working pretty hard to help set everything up,” Laios began. “I think all day, too? Maybe you should step away for a little while. Taking breaks is healthy.”
“What? No, I don’t need to do that. I just wasn’t paying attention. I’ll be more careful now.”
“I agree with the king,” Mithrun said. “We should check that everything was healed correctly. I acted quickly.”
“It’s alright, really,” Kabru insisted. “I should probably go help with the-”
“Kabru, you just broke your hand. Go take a break,” Marcille said, cutting him off.
“We don't need you to be here right now,” Laios chimed in.
“Laios, don’t say it like that!” Marcille exclaimed.
“Huh? I just meant-”
“I know what you meant,” Kabru cut him off. Usually anytime Laios tried to explain himself he just dug himself in deeper, and then he and Marcille would be here all day. “Alright, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if we stepped away for a moment. Just to check everything was healed.”
Mithrun seemed to take that as a cue to leave. He took Kabru’s wrist and started tugging him away from the group, like it was natural. Kabru turned back to Laios and Marcille before they got further than about two feet away.
“Wait, but make sure that the-” Kabru started.
“Stop worrying! We’ll be fine!” Marcille insisted, making a shooing gesture at them. “Go!”
Reluctantly, Kabru turned away, letting Mithrun guide him out of the main ballroom and into a quieter area of the castle. He had half a mind to break away and resume working, maybe somewhere else in the building where Marcille wouldn’t be around to scold him. Mithrun’s grip on his wrist was a weak one, after all. It wouldn’t be hard to slip away. Still, he didn’t.
It was strange, he usually couldn’t stand when people insisted on looking after him like this, but with Mithrun it was tolerable. He supposed it probably felt less stifling since the fussing was mutual, since Mithrun would increasingly take the ways Kabru checked in on him and reflect them back in return. Did you eat today? When did you last get a full nights sleep? Or take a proper break from your work? It could still be a bit frustrating, but it wasn’t like Kabru could complain without being a hypocrite. Touché, he supposed.
Mithrun led him down the hall to the nearest unoccupied room, which seemed to be a storeroom being used to hold chairs for the ball at present. Convenient, Kabru thought as Mithrun gestured for him to sit down.
After carefully picking up Kabru’s hand again, Mithrun checked it over methodically. He tested the joints, squeezed a few muscle groups experimentally, a sharp focus in his eye all the while. It was cute to see him being so thorough with him like this. Was it conceited that Kabru took a bit of pride in being able to tease desires like this out of him without even trying?
“Is there pain?” Mithrun asked, finally looking him in the eyes properly.
“Not anymore,” Kabru replied.
Mithrun released his hand, seemingly satisfied now. Kabru flexed his fingers experimentally. All was well, of course.
He hadn’t brought up what he’d discovered about the way Mithrun used healing magic with him yet. There was never an organic time to ask about it. Not to mention that a part of him was a bit nervous about the answer, about whether he’d simply been imagining any possible significance.
But they were alone now, and once again Mithrun had been so careful to make sure nothing hurt. Maybe it was just the sleep deprivation, but Kabru was feeling daring enough to take the risk.
“You’re usually pretty good about that,” Kabru said casually.
“About what?” Mithrun asked.
“Managing the pain. It never hurts when you heal me,” Kabru clarified. “To be honest, I’ve wondered a bit why you go through the trouble.”
“…Do you want it to hurt?” Mithrun asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Th-that's not-,” Kabru said, stumbling over himself. He cleared his throat. “I just mean that I’ve heard you usually don’t take the time for it.”
“No,” Mithrun admitted, looking away. It was the only indication he gave that he might be nervous. “I suppose I usually don’t think to with others.”
“Why do it with me then?”
“I always remember to with you.” Mithrun said the words simply, like it was obvious.
“Is there a reason?” Kabru probed.
“I don’t know,” Mithrun said. It was possible he was just being evasive, but considering that Mithrun still struggled with understanding his own thoughts and feelings at times, it was equally possible he was being genuine. In Kabru’s opinion, the slight furrow in Mithrun’s brow hinted at the later this time.
“…You feel different from other people,” Mithrun continued, seemingly unsure of the words.
“Not weaker, I hope,” Kabru said, trying to tease a bit more elaboration out of him. And maybe he did want the reassurance as well, wanted to know for sure that Mithrun just didn’t think he was too young or delicate to handle pain.
“It’s not that,” Mithrun said firmly. “It’s because…” He paused again, clearly struggling to find the right words. His brow furrowed even deeper. Kabru fought the urge to bring a thumb there and ease the tension out himself.
Mithrun looked back down at Kabru’s hand. He reached for it vaguely, and Kabru reached out to him in turn, tangling their fingers together again. Mithrun stared at their joined hands like he had to convince himself that Kabru was fine again, that the injury was gone. In a tender gesture he hadn’t done before, he started to run a thumb over Kabru’s knuckles, slowly. Mithrun looked back up at him then, opened his mouth to speak.
“I don’t like when you’re in pain,” Mithrun said. The words weren’t spoken so much as something that fell out of his mouth. He seemed especially unsatisfied with them.
Kabru laughed. “Well, I definitely appreciate that.”
“That’s not right either.” Mithrun said, frustration apparent.
Mithrun paused for another moment, seeming to gather his thoughts before trying to articulate himself again.
“You feel like…” Mithrun was still squinting, still rubbing a thumb over Kabru’s knuckles. He took a breath before continuing. “You feel like someone I should protect when I can. Someone important. That’s why I make sure it doesn’t hurt.”
Kabru stilled at that. Protect? He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the sentiment, how to label the conflicting feelings that it sparked in his chest.
“You don't have to feel responsible for that,” Kabru said, the words coming out on their own before he could think twice about voicing them. “I can handle myself on my own.”
“But wouldn’t you prefer it? Not to have to?” Mithrun asked.
Kabru paused, letting the words sink in. For the first time in a long time, he was at a loss for what to say.
Did he want that? He wasn’t sure. His instinct was not to trust such a thing when offered, to keep Mithrun and everyone else at a safe enough distance away. To be warm but not quite vulnerable. To avoid putting himself in a position where such protection could grow condescending or cloying, or else be twisted into something used to hurt him. He’d spent long enough trying to escape that the first time, hadn’t he? That room where nothing could hurt him (except, of course, when it did), where he didn’t even have the space to breathe?
But he had liked the way Mithrun treated him, hadn’t he? The revelation that Mithrun apparently saw shielding him from pain as uniquely important? That Kabru had stirred this desire in him, apparently even when they were still in the dungeon? Before Mithrun could even recognize that bit of fondness for what it was, when all he thought he could ever want was revenge? Kabru liked the feeling of knowing he was something important to him. He wanted more of it. That much he could say with certainty.
And maybe Mithrun was right. Maybe some small, half-buried part of himself did long to be cared for in such a way. Maybe it could be nice to choose that instead of having it forced on him, and then suddenly taken away the moment he disobeyed. Even if it might take some getting used to.
Could they find some sort of balance there, then?
Kabru didn't realize how quiet he’d been until Mithrun spoke again, snapping him back to the present.
“Never mind, don’t answer that,” Mithrun said, looking away again. “Your hand is fine. You can-”
Mithrun tried to slip away, but Kabru’s grip tightened, stopping him in place. Mithrun looked back at him, uncertain.
"I do appreciate you taking the extra time for me, just to be clear," Kabru said. "I think it's sweet of you.”
Mithrun said nothing, watching him carefully. Kabru felt like he could get lost in that dark eye of his.
"Although, I do hope you haven't been giving unfair treatment to those in your squad in the meantime," Kabru added as an afterthought.
"They don't ask me to heal them anymore," Mithrun replied.
"So I've heard," Kabru said. "As for your question..." He continued, fighting not to let his own nerves show. Being honest felt like pulling teeth. He knew Mithrun didn't deserve anything less right now, though. "I'm not quite sure, to tell the truth."
Mithrun seemed like he was about to try slipping away again, but Kabru plowed on ahead.
"...But maybe we could try to feel that out a bit? Together?" Kabru suggested carefully. "If that's alright with you."
Mithrun looked up at him like he was seeing him for the first time. Kabru swore he could see the gears turning in his mind, watched something click into place. He saw his ears twitch just slightly from where they stuck out from his hair. Cute.
"...It is," Mithrun said, something cautious yet hopeful in his voice.
They stayed that way for a while, letting the moment linger. Mithrun looked down at him, traced the contours of his face with his eyes. Kabru couldn’t help but notice how his gaze caught on his lips, the way it lingered there. He could still hear the muffled sounds of people setting everything up through the door, bustling around, calling out to each other as they moved this and that back and forth. They felt miles away now.
“I think I want something,” Mithrun said, breaking their silence.
“And what's that?” Kabru asked.
“I expect you’ve been able to deduce it by now.”
“Maybe,” Kabru said, giving him a lopsided sort of smile. “But it’s rude to assume.”
“Do you want the same?” Mithrun asked.
“If you ask, I’ll tell you,” Kabru said, not unkindly. It wasn’t just to tease, he did want Mithrun to ask him properly. Considering the uncharted territory of Mithrun’s new desires, he preferred the certainty of it. Even if he was quite sure now that he hadn’t miscalculated.
Mithrun reached a hand out experimentally, lightly touching his cheek. Kabru tilted his head, leaning into the touch. Mithrun traced a thumb over his cheekbone carefully, like he was something precious. Kabru hadn’t let himself be touched like this in a long time, usually couldn’t stand it, but… once again, this sort of thing just felt different with Mithrun. His rare moments of affection never felt smothering.
“I don’t know if I’ll feel it right,” Mithrun said quietly.
“There isn’t one right way,” Kabru said, giving his hand a squeeze in reassurance.
There was another pause, long enough this time that Kabru thought Mithrun might have lost his nerve. Before Kabru could prompt him he spoke once more.
“Can I kiss you?” Mithrun asked.
“I’d like that,” Kabru said.
Mithrun leaned towards him slowly, as if expecting to be pushed away. Kabru let his eyes drift shut as Mithrun’s lips pressed against his own. They had a roughness to them, Kabru knew he was still struggling to keep up with moisturizing, but he found he didn’t mind. The soft warmth of his kiss was pleasant all the same.
Mithrun pulled back again, searching for something in Kabru’s face. He seemed to find it before Kabru could ask if he was alright, because he leaned back in. When Kabru met his lips again he was more confident this time, like he was remembering.
Kabru reached out blindly, wrapped an arm around his waist to try to pull him closer. A bit of an awkward positioning they had here, with him on the chair and Mithrun standing over him. Mithrun seemed to notice this, he broke away before trying to lean in closer, bracing himself on the back of Kabru’s chair with one hand to compensate. Kabru probably could have just stood back up but Mithrun was already moving back in, placed a hand at the back of his head to position him right, tilting his head back before meeting his lips once more. Kabru felt something dangerous flutter in his chest at the gesture, upon feeling his slim fingers tangling themselves in his hair, guiding him.
The kisses grew deeper then, became infused with a hunger. Kabru tried to savor it, was pleasantly surprised by the initiative Mithrun was taking. He hadn’t dared to hope for that, to be made to feel so desired by him so soon. It was a heady sort of feeling. How long had Mithrun kept this to himself? Did he realize how badly he'd grown to want him, taking note of the new yet familiar desire as it bloomed slowly within him? Or did Mithrun's current actions surprise even himself?
When Mithrun started to nudge at his lips with his tongue, Kabru tightened his hold around him, tried to press their bodies together as he parted his lips for him. Boldly, Mithrun shifted positions again, hooking a leg over him and settling down to straddle his lap, not breaking the kiss as he did so.
Kabru moaned softly as he felt Mithrun’s tongue slip into his mouth, felt the warm weight of his body pressing into him, pining him down. Kabru dug his fingertips into Mithrun’s back, suddenly needing more, which Mithrun was apparently more than happy to provide.
…And then, before they could proceed further the door swung open. Their teeth clinched together uncomfortably as Kabru flinched toward the sound, breaking their kiss.
“Kabru! Do you know where Mithrun teleported the-” Laios started, stopping short when his eyes fell on the position they were in, Mithrun still very much perched in his lap.
For a moment everyone was silent, as if waiting for someone else to proceed.
“…Is this healing magic?” Laios asked, breaking the painfully slow moment.
And unfortunately Kabru’s “yes” came out at the same time as Mithrun’s “no.”