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One
Fire crackled merrily inside the hearth despite the late hour, casting flickering shadows all over Olruggio’s atelier. There was a strange sense of peace to be found when working at that time of night; everyone else was asleep, and the only sounds were those made by both the fire and his pen scratching against paper, ceaselessly writing down different signs and sigil combinations.
Olruggio would like to say that the peace and quiet helped him focus, that his productivity doubled in the face of nighttime tranquility… but the crushing weight of deadlines kept him from feeling anything other than pure, unadulterated stress.
He groaned loudly and his pen clattered against the desk, splotches of ink falling all over yet another discarded spell.
Frustration made him slump back in his chair, one hand running through his hair and tugging just enough to ground him. Olruggio was familiar with the feeling of burning out, and he knew there would be no more work to be done that night.
“I should clear my head,” he muttered to himself.
The wind outside whipped at his hair and clothes as he exited through the back door of his atelier. Olruggio closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then stretched out his arms until his spine gave a satisfying crack.
It was a nice night outside, not too cold despite the breeze rustling through the fields. The sky was clear and the moon was waning; a perfect night for stargazing.
His eyes were inevitably drawn to Qifrey’s side of the atelier. Unsurprisingly, there was warm light in his windows, the only disturbance in the atelier’s darkness.
Olruggio let his feet take him back inside. He padded across the bridge and knocked on his friend’s door.
“Come in!” came the faint reply from inside.
Qifrey was sitting hunched over something, his back to the door and a small lantern on the desk next to him. Olruggio stepped inside and closed the door behind him softly, careful not to disturb the apprentices sleeping in their rooms with any noise.
“Oh, I thought it might be one of the girls,” Qifrey commented, briefly glancing at him over his shoulder. “Commission giving you trouble, dear friend?”
Olruggio didn’t respond; instead, he crossed the room in a few large steps and fell face-first on the bed with a muffled groan. Behind him, Qifrey chuckled.
He shifted his head on the uncomfortably lumpy pillows to see that the other witch seemed to be sewing something — a small white dress, it looked like.
“You need t’replace these pillows, Qifrey,” he said, mouth muffled against a pillow.
“I’ll make a note of it.”
They stayed in companionable silence for a short while, Qifrey’s soft humming as he mended the dress filling the room. Olruggio already felt himself dozing off, but forced himself to stay awake.
“Latest commission’s givin’ me a headache,” Olruggio said at last, rolling over so that he was laying on his back. Even the mattress was lumpy — how the hell did Qifrey sleep on it every night? “Couldn’t figure out a way to make the contraption exactly how the lord commissioner wants it.”
“Very demanding, these lords,” Qifrey hummed.
“And they want everything done immediately,” he grumbled. “No regard for my sanity whatsoever.”
“Could you not request an extension?”
Olruggio huffed and spread his arms across the bed, a touch dramatic.
“I don’t like askin’ for those. They always get tetchy.”
“Maybe I could take a look at it tomorrow, if you want. A fresh pair of eyes might see something you don’t.”
“Sure, if you don’t mind. Thanks, Qifrey.”
“It’s no trouble, old friend.”
Olruggio stared up at the ceiling, still thinking about the contraption but at least with a lesser sense of doom. On the desk, Qifrey snapped off the sewing thread with his teeth and held out the dress to give his handiwork a once-over.
“Is the lantern too dim?” Olruggio asked suddenly.
“Hm?” Qifrey blinked innocently at him, lips still pursed with the little bit of thread dangling from between them.
“You’re squintin’ a bunch.”
“Ah,” he picked out the thread from his mouth and smiled, the crafted one Olruggio knew well. “No, the light is perfectly fine. It’s just difficult to make out white thread on white cloth.”
Olruggio didn’t mention that he had been squinting earlier as well, whilst cooking dinner, and the other day reading a book by the hearth. Something about Qifrey’s smile told him not to push it, and he was too tired for it anyway, so he just pocketed that little bit of information for later.
Silently, Olruggio watched him finish mending the dress. Despite his earlier frustration, he greatly enjoyed nights like these, where he could share a room and quiet companionship with Qifrey, and act like everything was alright in the world.
These nights were fleeting, few and far between.
Rationally, he knew Qifrey had secrets. Olruggio was just worried they would grow too big for him to handle, or drive him to make rash decisions. Back in Serpentback Cave, Qifrey had been ready to pursue the Brimmed Hat, forgetting about the apprentices in his rage. It fell on Olruggio to bring him back from the edge, but could he keep reliably doing so when Qifrey never let him in on his secrets?
Olruggio didn’t realize when he’d closed his eyes, but was suddenly startled awake by fingers carding through his hair. He cracked one eye open and saw Qifrey gently smiling down at him, soft under the warm lantern light.
“Sorry.” He tried to scramble into a sitting position, voice thick with sleep. “I’m, uh, gonna—”
The word leave died on his lips as Qifrey splayed a hand on his chest, effectively stopping him. Olruggio looked up at him, hazy and surprised.
“Don’t,” Qifrey muttered, voice so low he almost didn’t catch it. “You can stay here a while. It won’t bother me.”
His expression was hard to read, oddly intense. Olruggio looked away before a blush could fully take ahold of his cheeks.
“If you’re sure…”
“I am.”
Slowly, Olruggio reclined back on the bed again and closed his eyes. It wasn’t the most comfortable of surfaces, what with the aforementioned lumps, but he was tired enough that it didn’t matter.
He heard Qifrey shuffling around the room, and imagined him folding the dress carefully, setting the lantern on the bedside table, getting ready for bed. A little nightly ritual that Olruggio hadn’t been privy to in years, and he didn’t dare open his eyes again lest he disturb it.
Eventually, exhaustion won out, and Olruggio let himself drift back into sleep.
When he woke the next morning, it was to a thin ray of sunlight filtering through thick curtains, and the space next to him empty. The sheets there seemed undisturbed, except for a spot by his head.
Two
“And this,” Qifrey said, between fits of coughing, “is why you always think carefully before mixing earth and wind sigils in your spells.”
Tetia smiled apologetically, furiously waving away the remains of her sandstorm. Agott held her vacuum spell high to suck in all the sand, while Coco and Richeh scuttled back and rubbed at their eyes.
“Wind’s a fickle thing,” Olruggio commented as he stepped into the living room, taking in the scene with his arms crossed over his chest. “Should I fetch the broom?”
“No need,” Qifrey smiled up at him. “Agott has drawn a very useful spell for us.”
“Sorry, Master Qifrey!” Tetia squeaked.
As their Master gently corralled the girls back to the lesson, Olruggio sprawled on the couch with a sigh. He had overindulged for lunch and now it weighed heavy on his stomach, sapping all his energy.
Qifrey gave him a very brief, knowing look before focusing his attention wholly on the apprentices. He launched into a short lecture on wind spells, reassuring Tetia about her accidental sandstorm and teaching them how to avoid creating one in the future. It was good background noise, Olruggio thought as he adjusted his position on the couch and grabbed the blanket folded next to it.
He truly enjoyed Qifrey’s teaching voice; he was always so patient when explaining things, so gentle with an undercurrent of confidence and joy. Leagues away from the sullen boy Olruggio had met at the Great Hall and, somehow, still the same person.
Before he could fully drift off , something pinched his leg. Olruggio jolted, and something soft and furry launched itself to his chest.
“Agh!”
“Brushbuddy!” Coco exclaimed.
The girls, little devils that they were, laughed as he grappled with the brushbuddy. Even Qifrey seemed to be hiding his laughter behind a slender hand.
Olruggio finally managed to take hold of the squirming creature and held it away from his face with narrowed eyes. A small piece of paper poked out of the brushbuddy’s little mouth.
“Ah, so that’s where it went,” he grumbled, taking it from the little critter. It was one of the scrapped designs for his latest commission, which must have gotten lost amid the folds of his shirt.
Qifrey resumed his lesson, still looking a little too amused, and Olruggio set the brushbuddy down on the couch next to him. The creature immediately curled up against his arm, a warm, fluffy weight, and he carded his fingers through its white fur.
Sometimes, when Olruggio was feeling particularly melancholic, he wished he could bury his hands in soft white hair and forever keep them there. Alas, the brushbuddy was the closest he would get to it.
He watched idly as the girls attempted another earth and wind combination spell, this time with far more successful results. Agott helped Tetia with the signs where she struggled the most, while Coco listened in and Richeh adapted them to her own style. They were clever little things, flourishing like flowers in bloom under Qifrey’s careful teaching.
“Why are you making that weird face, Master Olly?” Tetia suddenly asked.
Ack!
All four girls stared at him, and Olruggio immediately shifted so he was lying on his opposite shoulder, his back to them. The brushbuddy squeaked as it was pressed against the couch cushions.
“Olly, stop distracting them,” Qifrey chastised lightly, and Olruggio felt his face flushing a dark red.
“I’m nappin’,” he grumbled. Giggling ensued.
They settled after that, mercifully. Olruggio pressed his face against the back of the couch and burrowed into the blanket until he felt his blush receding.
It was easy to drift off like that, with Qifrey’s gentle voice cradling him to sleep. Olruggio desperately hoped he didn’t snore — he would never hear the end of it.
Three
The edge of the windowway had been tampered with and jutted out more than necessary; that was the only explanation Olruggio could find as to why he was now laying face first on the floor.
A stifled laugh from above caught his attention, but it took him a moment to place it. His head felt floaty but heavy at the same time, and the way the room kept spinning certainly didn’t help matters.
“Hullo, Qifrey,” he slurred, cheek pressed against the stone.
Another laugh and, oh, Olruggio would stay on the floor forever if it meant he got to keep hearing it.
“Need a hand, old friend?”
“Please.”
He took Qifrey’s hand and let himself be hauled to his feet, secretly marveling at his friend’s strength. Where did he keep those muscles hidden? Olruggio so desperately wanted to know, because surely those twig-like arms shouldn’t possess that much power.
“Um, Olly…?”
Qifrey’s tone was uncertain, and Olruggio realized he had been intensely staring at his friend’s forearm for a good minute. He quickly took a step back, stumbled again, and just barely managed to brace himself against the opposite wall.
“S’rry.”
“Nothing to apologize for. I’ll get you some water; it will help when you wake up in the morning.”
“If I wake up,” Olruggio grumbled. “Hiehart always chooses the strongest wines.”
He followed Qifrey to the kitchen with unsteady steps, leaning heavily on the walls as they went.
“Here.” Qifrey offered him the vapor bubble and carefully helped with aiming the water into his mouth, instead of letting it dribble down his chin and to the floor. Olruggio felt a little less dazed as the minutes passed, and he sat on the couch with his head thrown back.
“Room’s spinnin’,” he mumbled. Qifrey sat on the other end of the couch, one leg pulled up and white robes pooling about his waist. “Why’re you so far away?”
“I’m right here, Olly.”
“You know what I mean.”
The longer Olruggio sat there, the more his senses sharpened, and the alcohol-induced haze slowly receded to a more manageable level.
If he rolled his head to the side just so, he could see Qifrey’s expression bathed in firelight.
“You’re angry,” Olruggio stated. Qifrey arched one eyebrow, looking at him with a small smile.
“I am not.”
It might have been enough to convince anyone else, if not for the fact that it was Olruggio asking.
“Is it the drinkin’?”
“Of course not.”
“Then it’s the company.”
It couldn’t be anything else, Olruggio reasoned. Qifrey only got that certain look in his eye whenever he went out drinking with Hiehart, even if he never voiced any complaints aloud. Olruggio tried to find a way to word his thoughts, finding them muddy and slippery in the haze.
“You shouldn’t— shouldn’t worry,” he stumbled over his own words. “‘m not gonna run off with Hiehart.”
“I don’t see why I would be concerned about that,” Qifrey said, primly. He wasn’t looking at Olruggio anymore; instead his eye was squinting at the dying fire in the hearth. The sight tugged at something in Olruggio’s brain, but before he could grasp that thought, it was already gone.
The pounding in his head was getting hard to ignore.
“I wouldn’t leave you and the girls,” he mumbled, so low that he thought Qifrey might not have heard him at first. “‘s just work, after all.”
“I know that.”
“Of course you do.”
They sat in silence, Qifrey still staring ahead and Olruggio pretending not to be watching him and doing a sloppy job of it. Heaviness tugged at his eyelids, making them droop, but he forced himself to stay awake. Just a little longer, to drink in the sight of Qifrey’s profile by the firelight for a bit more.
“I was thinking of making pancakes tomorrow morning,” Qifrey said after some time. He was wringing his hands in his lap, Olruggio noticed. “I could bring you a plate, if you aren’t yet awake.”
An olive branch. Olruggio took it readily.
“I’ll try t’wake up. Can’t be settin’ such a poor example for the girls.”
Finally, Qifrey turned to him. The smile on his face seemed more genuine than before, none of that strange tension pinching at the corner of his eye. Olruggio matched it, all too aware that his own smile was probably dazed and sluggish.
“Thank you, Olly.”
“Psh,” Olruggio made a dismissive gesture with his hand, waving Qifrey’s gratitude away. “‘m the one who should be thankin’ you.”
“Whatever for?”
Olruggio sat up with a frown at Qifrey’s wide-eyed expression. His hands moved wildly as he spoke.
“What d’you mean whatever for? You keep us fed, you’re always cleanin’ and makin’ sure the girls are alright. You even take care of me when I drink too much! Does that seem like nothin’ to you, Qifrey? Because it seems like a whole lot to me!”
“Lower your voice! The girls are sleeping!” Qifrey stammered and averted his gaze. There was a lovely rosy blush high on his cheeks.
“You know I’m right,” Olruggio pressed, voice lower.
“You are too drunk, Olly.”
“‘s the only reason I can say all this,” he mumbled, feeling a rising blush of his own.
Qifrey’s expression was gentle, almost shy when they locked eyes again. His hands were fisted in the cloth of his white dress.
“Drink some more water,” he murmured softly. “It will do you good.”
Olruggio obeyed, because his sudden outburst had left him thirsty. But mostly, it was because Qifrey had asked. His movements were slow, weighed down by the wine, and it took him a couple of tries to get the stream of water just right. Once finished, he placed the vapor bubble down and leaned back on the couch.
His right hand brushed Qifrey’s arm and they both froze.
“Sorry,” Olruggio mumbled. In all his gesturing, he had accidentally drifted too close to Qifrey, who was all but pressed against the arm of the couch.
He didn’t move away. That particular crease in the couch cushions was much too comfortable, and Olruggio found himself leaning his head back again to close his eyes for a minute.
The sound of the fire crackling was soothing, lulling his spinning mind to sleep. Olruggio didn’t know when exactly the darkness crept in, but he felt Qifrey shift, and then something warm covered him.
His hands closed against the plush blanket they kept next to the couch, and he wished it was Qifrey instead. Still, he fell back into the haze. The thought of Qifrey sitting next to him, watching him, was more comforting than any blankets in the world.
Four
It wasn’t unusual for Olruggio to find himself in the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning, desperately cobbling together a midnight snack or drowning his commission-related sorrows with a bottle of wine by the hearth.
This time, thankfully, was the former.
He had just taken a bite of his messily put-together ham and cheese sandwich when footsteps shuffled into the kitchen. Olruggio tensed.
“Master Qifrey?” A small voice called out.
It was one of the girls. His shoulders slumped in relief — he really wasn’t looking forward to Qifrey lecturing him on his sleeping habits.
“Not him, sorry lass,” Olruggio replied.
Tetia’s teary face emerged into the dim circle of lamplight. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, and she was hugging herself with trembling arms.
“Everything alright?” he asked, immediately putting the sandwich down and focusing all of his attention on her.
“S-sorry,” she stuttered. “I had a nightmare.”
It didn’t take more than a brief wave for her to come flying into his arms, pressing her face to his shirt. There would be damp spots there later, but Olruggio couldn’t bring himself to care.
“Shh, it’s alright,” he comforted her, crouching so they were the same height and adjusting her head so she hugged him around the neck and shoulders instead. “Want to talk about it?”
Tetia made an indistinct sobbing sound against his shoulder, so he gathered her in his arms and rose to his feet, trying very hard to ignore any ominous creaking sounds coming from his back and knees.
He sat on the couch with her, pulling the blanket over her shoulders as she calmed down. Tetia sniffled and rubbed her hands over her eyes.
“It was stupid anyway,” she said, voice still trembling a little. “There was a dragon— no, two of them. And they swept you and Master Qifrey away. A-and I couldn’t do anything about it! My spells were all useless!”
“Good thing your Master and I can beat a dragon then, hmm?” He tried to soothe her, one hand clumsily stroking her unruly pink hair. “And your spells are never useless. Qifrey told me about the Serpent’s Bed of Sand, and that was mighty useful, wasn’t it?”
“Well, yes, but Agott, Richeh, and Coco helped. I couldn’t do anything by myself.” Tetia retorted.
“You are still an apprentice,” Olruggio told her firmly. “One day, you will grow into a very fine witch, and will take down any dragon in your path.”
“B-But—”
“Ah-ah, no buts. Want a sandwich?”
“… only if it looks better than what you were eating.”
“Very nice. I ought to take back my offer.”
Olruggio ruffled her hair affectionately and went into the kitchen to make a (hopefully) better version of his sandwich. Tetia didn’t stay long on the couch, coming up to him and leaning against his skirt. She watched him put together the food with an appreciative look, then readily took it along with a glass of water.
“Thank you, Master Olly,” she mumbled. It was strange to see her so subdued. Olruggio’s heart ached.
“Not your Master,” he said, reflexively. “Thank you for tellin’ me about your nightmare.”
She gave him a small smile, face briefly lighting up. “Thank you for thanking me!”
They ate together sitting on the couch, each with their own sandwich. Olruggio finished first and cleared away any stray crumbs, then helped Tetia get rid of hers. Once it was done, she scooted close to him, curling up against his side.
“I don’t wanna go to sleep,” she muttered. Olruggio put an arm around her and held her close.
“Want me to tell you a story?”
Tetia nodded, and so he started with his tale.
“Alright… there was once a small child, not much older than you are now, and he was trapped in a prison underwater,” he started. If Qifrey heard him, Olruggio would be in for a scolding, but it was only him and Tetia there. “You see, he longed to see the outside world, for he had never seen the sky, nor the stars, nor felt the grass under his feet. So, he stole a map and used it to sneak out of the prison.”
“Really?” Tetia gasped, eyes wide as she looked up at him. “That’s smart!”
“Aye, he was a very smart boy.” Olruggio smiled softly. “But what the boy didn’t know was that the outside world was full of dangers. Thankfully, he had an even smarter friend that helped him escape a herd of wild liongoats that were about to trample them.”
“Oh no!”
“The friend drew up a wall of smoke and light and made himself appear like a big shadow monster so the liongoats were scared away. With just his magic knowledge and a few tools, he followed the boy down into a cave filled with sawbushes, even though the boy had pushed him away before.”
“The boy sounds a bit mean,” Tetia mumbled. She already sounded drowsy, Olruggio noted with satisfaction.
“Oh no, he was never mean. The boy just wasn’t used to having friends. But his friend, the smarter boy, soon made him change his mind. And together, they would live to go on many adventures…”
Tetia’s head dropped against his side fully, the rise and fall of her chest evening out as she fell asleep. Carefully, as to not wake her, Olruggio drew the blanket over her again and adjusted her position slightly so her neck wouldn’t ache later.
He leaned back against the couch cushions, exhaustion crashing over him all at once. The hour was late, and he was spent. Olruggio felt his eyes slip closed against his will and, soon enough, his breathing fell into step with Tetia’s.
In the doorway, Qifrey stood still as his Watchful Eye and his apprentice fell asleep together, blanket almost slipping from their shoulders. He had been watching for a while, listening to Olruggio’s story with a mixture of fondness, embarrassment, and some mild irritation. A warm feeling curled in his chest, almost too much to bear.
He left silently, closing the front door softly behind him. In the distance, the lake shimmered under the pale moonlight. It was penance enough for his comfort that night, Qifrey supposed.
Five
Olruggio had known for a while that Qifrey was tampering with his memories.
He didn’t know exactly what, nor why, but he knew Qifrey was doing something that left his memories riddled with empty gaps that became more noticeable each time. And the trigger seemed to be whenever he attempted to pry into the other’s secrets.
It must have to do with Qifrey’s failing eyesight; Olruggio knew that much. He’d found crudely sketched diagrams for a lens spell in several of his notebooks and, paired with the way Qifrey kept squinting at everything, it was easy to form a conclusion.
He waited. Silver Eve came and went, and the snowy season started right after. Qifrey, like everyone else, was distraught by the events of the festival, but he hid it better than anyone.
It was in the days before snow started falling all over the Naakiwan Downs that Olruggio finally confronted his friend.
They were outside, enjoying the last few days where the cold was still bearable at the turn of the season. The girls played around the garden, practicing earth spells on some empty flower beds that Olruggio hoped Qifrey wasn’t too attached to, and the two adult witches were sitting on a sunny patch of grass with their hats sitting on the ground next to them, watching the apprentices from a short distance.
“Richeh seems to be doin’ great with these,” Olruggio commented, watching as the shortest apprentice built a beautiful spire made of crystals, dirt, and stone that might work to conceal beastwards.
“She has always taken well to earth spells,” Qifrey agreed with a soft smile. He was squinting in the girl’s direction, Olruggio noted. He had been doing a lot of that lately.
“When do you reckon they’ll be ready for the third test?”
Qifrey’s expression turned pensive, a frown knotted between his eyebrows.
“I would give them a few more seasons yet. Particularly Coco and Agott have great ambitions related to the Tower of Tomes, and I would dread for them to take the trial unprepared.”
“Makes sense, yeah,” Olruggio nodded. “I remember us takin’ it early because a certain someone was too eager.”
Qifrey let out a small laugh, but it wasn’t enough to cover the brief shadow that crossed his face at the mention of their third test. Olruggio remembered him saying that he had found nothing about his past in the Tower of Tomes, bringing his life’s search to a screeching halt. Now he wondered whether there was something else to it.
“In any case,” Qifrey said, neatly side-stepping the subject, “it’s good to let them enjoy their learning process for now. I remember the stress of the fourth test, and I don’t wish to force that on the girls before they are ready.”
Olruggio recalled their fourth test better than the third; countless nights spent poring over books, drawing until his fingers and wrist ached, having to bear witness to other apprentices breaking down in every corner of the Great Hall library. He watched their girls smile brightly when Agott succeeded in casting a complicated spell, and had to agree with Qifrey. They deserved to enjoy learning magic for as long as they could.
“Coco has been having nightmares lately,” Qifrey suddenly said in a low voice, seemingly out of the blue. “I think Silver Eve was too much for them.”
“A damn mess is what it was,” Olruggio muttered.
“Mind your tongue, Olly; they might hear you.”
“They’re too far. And I’m right.”
Qifrey wrung his fingers together, a nervous habit he had never quite managed to shake, one that Olruggio secretly found rather endearing.
“I just… worry about them. We can face the horrors wrought on Silver Eve, but they are still young. I wonder… how long we will be able to protect them from the harsh truth of magic.”
“They already know plenty about that,” Olruggio pointed out, not unkindly. “Best we can do is stick by their side for when they need us.”
Qifrey looked away from the girls and at him, a warm look in his eye.
“Well said, old friend.”
They watched the girls for a bit longer, and Olruggio kept turning Qifrey’s words over in his head. He also worried about protecting the apprentices, but there was a glimpse of desperation in Qifrey’s voice as he said it. Something deep and raw, vulnerable in a way Qifrey seldom was.
Olruggio steeled himself. He watched his friend out of the corner of his eye, the way he idly smiled, focused on his students.
“Qifrey,” he started. “How long has your eyesight been going?”
It was like a spell had been cast over him. Qifrey immediately stiffened, his expression turning carefully blank so fast it almost felt like he had never been smiling in the first place.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Olly,” he deflected. Olruggio knew better than to believe that.
“I’ve seen you squintin’ a great deal lately,” Olruggio pressed. He leaned forward without realizing, and Qifrey abruptly flinched back, putting some distance between them. Qifrey’s hand knocked into his hat with the movement. He pulled it onto his lap, hands splayed over smoke-colored fabric.
“I have always been sensitive to light. You know that well,” Qifrey said at last, eye fixed on his hat.
“I know that, but I also know this is somethin’ else. Just the other day, you could barely make out the spells in Richeh’s notes. Those things are tiny, but not so much that you should have trouble with them.”
Qifrey stayed silent. Olruggio wondered what his next excuse would be, how he would attempt to evade the conversation next. He wasn’t expecting for him to address the apprentices instead.
“Girls!” he called out, voice ringing clear across the garden. At once, four heads turn to them. “It’s getting quite late, could you please get inside and freshen up before dinner?”
Clever bastard.
The girls filed back into the atelier, Richeh dragging a very muddy brushbuddy with her. Coco gave them one long, last look as the front door closed.
“I don’t believe this talk is suited for young ears,” Qifrey said finally. He was turned away, his back to Olruggio.
“We are having this talk, then,” Olruggio replied.
At long last, Qifrey turned to him. The hollow look in his eye unnerved Olruggio with its intensity. It wasn’t an expression he had seen before, but it felt eerily familiar somehow.
Ah, right. I must have forgotten.
“I couldn’t possibly convince you to drop the subject, could I?” Qifrey asked, a pleading note in his voice.
Olruggio sighed and fisted his hands in the grass, frustrated.
“I just want to help you, Qifrey. Nothin’ more.”
“I know. You always do.”
“Is that why you’ve been erasin’ my memory?” Olruggio leaned forward again, all too aware of his desperation. “So that I won’t help you?”
Qifrey gave him a smile, but it was all wrong. It was sad, and wobbly, and there was a shimmery sheen to his eye, almost like tears. His hands gripped the hat tightly, knuckles going white.
“Yes, Olly,” he whispered, like a death sentence. “That is exactly why.”
No questions about how he knew, merely grim acceptance. Olruggio’s eyes grew wide.
“Why won’t you let me, Qifrey? There must be somethin’ I can do, anythin’.” The words left his mouth in a torrent: fast, jumbled together, desperate. “What’s your plan otherwise? To just keep recklessly chasin’ after Brimhats even when your apprentices are in danger?”
Qifrey flinched as though struck. Both Silver Eve and the Serpentback Cave were too recent, too fresh of a wound. But Olruggio meant every word; he would help Qifrey, hold him back from the edge, whatever it took. He just wanted to be let in.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Qifrey muttered, almost as if speaking to himself.
“Then tell me,” Olruggio insisted. “Let me help you. You know I’d do anythin’ to help. You know why.”
You know I love you no matter what, went unsaid. Qifrey knew it anyway; Olruggio had never done a particularly good job of hiding it.
“I’m sorry, Olly,” Qifrey said tremulously. He shook his head, and white hair shifted to fall over his eye. There was something amid the strands — Olruggio narrowed his eyes, catching a glimpse of silver.
He leaned forward, one hand reaching out to offer comfort in any way he could. Qifrey didn’t move away; he let Olruggio’s fingers brush through his curls as one lone tear fell from his eye. It was breaking Olruggio’s heart, little by little.
Then he saw it. A small silver leaf, protruding from where Qifrey’s right eye should be. Olruggio felt his mouth open in surprise, eyes widening, and then Qifrey lunged forward, capturing his lips in a tearful kiss.
Olruggio froze, but quickly regained his bearings and kissed back. It tasted of salt and the berries they’d enjoyed after lunch, and of something more uniquely Qifrey’s.
Ever since they were teenagers running around the Great Hall, Olruggio had wondered how Qifrey’s lips might taste. Countless nights he had spent picturing how his friend would act, feel, what he might sound like if Olruggio ever gave in to his urges and kissed him.
He had always managed to restrain himself and had, over the years, learned to live with the longing and the desire, with the knowledge that Qifrey would always keep Olruggio and his feelings in a delicate balance. Close, but also at arm’s length. And Olruggio would stay anyway, because he loved him, because he couldn’t picture a life without Qifrey in it.
After all that time, a kiss from Qifrey should have felt like a reward. Like a culmination of decades-long yearning, and everything Olruggio had ever wanted.
Instead, it tasted like a bitter goodbye.
Something fell over his head, covering his eyes. Olruggio tried to pull away on instinct, but Qifrey held him in place, and a wave of drowsiness suddenly came over him.
He registered his body swaying, hands cradling him, his head falling on Qifrey’s lap.
And then nothing at all.
+1
The weeks following the silverwood removal had been rather strange.
Qifrey spent half of his time recovering in the Medical Spire, and the other half at the atelier trying to sneak past Olruggio and the girls to do chores. More than once, Olruggio had to force him bodily back into bed. Qifrey always protested, wanting to feel useful, but Olruggio held firm.
Olruggio himself wasn’t sure how to feel. Finding out he was responsible for getting the both of them stuck in an endless loop of secrets and memory erasures for years was off-putting to say the least, but he knew with unshakeable certainty that he would do it all over again if needed.
He just… wished he could have done something more to help. Qifrey had been suffering for decades right underneath his nose, and Olruggio’s only solution had been to leave him alone to deal with the pain, again and again.
The memory erasure seal had been an easy fix, that day right outside the Tower of Tomes, but Olruggio had been a teenager then. He could have improved on it, left clues for himself to find, done anything to deal with the silverwood earlier. His very job —hell, his whole life— was about inventing ways of making people’s lives easier!
And yet, he had thoroughly failed in helping his closest friend, offering nothing more than a meager, temporary balm in the shape of his memories.
Qifrey should resent him for it, Olruggio deserved that much — but, somehow, he didn’t.
Besides all of his conflicting, self-deprecating emotions, Olruggio was of course relieved that Qifrey was alright. His eyesight had worsened after the procedure, but he could still see, especially after Olruggio enhanced his glasses with yet another spell.
Most important of all, Qifrey could finally relax.
And relax he did. As the days passed, Olruggio found himself discovering a side of his friend he had never expected. Qifrey turned into a clingy creature, with him and with the girls. He was always touching them in some way: a guiding hand on their heads or backs, a hug, a brush of fingers through their hair.
Olruggio loved it, but it was also driving him mad.
The first few times, he was very flustered by the constant touch, but he felt he was gradually growing accustomed to it.
“Please tell me if it bothers you, Olly,” Qifrey told him one day when it was only the two of them in the kitchen. Olruggio had been piecing together a midnight snack, and Qifrey snuck up on him not long ago to wrap his arms around Olruggio’s waist from behind. It was incredibly distracting. Olruggio wished he would never let go.
“Not at all,” he muttered, even though what he wanted to say was please hug me forever.
“Glad to hear it,” Qifrey hummed into black hair, his hold tightening briefly.
To anyone that saw them, they must look like a pair of lovers. The thought made Olruggio feel hot all over as he shamefully let himself sink into the illusion. Maybe, if he turned his head just so, he would be rewarded with a peck to the lips.
They drifted to the kitchen table together, one of Qifrey’s hands lingering on his forearm. Olruggio mourned the phantom touch around his waist.
“How come you’re up this late?” he asked to distract himself from dangerous thoughts. “Hopefully not stressin’ over anything.”
Qifrey smiled affectionately and placed an elbow on the table, leaning his head on his hand. Under the dim light of a nearby lantern, he looked like something out of a dream.
“I found myself unable to sleep. Nothing to worry about, dear friend.”
“If you say so,” Olruggio muttered around the last bite of food. He wiped his mouth and carried the plate to the vapor bubble to clean it.
“What about you? Did you finally finish that commission?”
“Yeah. Right pain in the… uh, behind. But I managed. This was my celebratory meal.”
“How wonderful!” Qifrey clapped his hands together, making sure not to be too loud lest he woke up the sleeping girls. “A celebration pairs well with wine, does it not?”
Olruggio shot him a grin and opened a cupboard near his head, fingers closing around the neck of a familiar bottle.
“You’ve just read my mind.”
They made quick work of the silvernectar wine between the two of them, enjoying the sweet flavor and easy company. Qifrey talked about a field trip he was planning for the apprentices the next week, and Olruggio was content to listen as they drank. At some point, Qifrey had undone the braided collar of his shirt, exposing the pale column of his neck, which made it slightly difficult for Olruggio to concentrate on anything else.
A mixture of the wine, the satisfaction of a commission well done, and Qifrey’s warmth against his side was making him sleepy. Olruggio tried not to show it, but Qifrey picked up on his state anyway.
“You should get to bed, Olly. It’s quite late.”
Olruggio barely restrained himself from saying don’t wanna or something equally as childish, but he did give Qifrey a sceptical look.
“I’m not leaving you to drink out here alone.”
Qifrey chuckled lightly. He was doing more of that lately, a small, tinkling sound that Olruggio kept in a spot very close to his heart.
“Then we will both go to bed. How does that sound?”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
The wine was getting to his head. It must be that, and not Qifrey’s intoxicating closeness, what made him stumble as they stood up from their seats. Olruggio automatically grabbed onto Qifrey’s forearm for stability, and felt himself flush when the other’s arm snaked around his waist to stabilize him.
Qifrey giggled as they made their way downstairs, wine drunk and unsteady on their feet. Olruggio let himself be led to Qifrey’s room, and collapsed on the bed the moment the door closed behind them.
“Move over,” Qifrey demanded, climbing up next to him.
Olruggio rolled on his back and felt a weight settle next to him. There was a moment of hesitation, and then Qifrey inched closer, curling up on his side. Olruggio exhaled in surprise.
“Sorry—” Qifrey began to move away, but an arm around his shoulders kept him in place.
“Stay,” Olruggio said hoarsely. “Please. I’m just still getting used to it.”
Qifrey melted into his side again, white hair brushing against the bare chest that peeked out from Olruggio’s lopsided shirt collar.
“I’m also getting used to it,” he mumbled after a beat, voice so soft Olruggio had to strain to hear him properly. “It took a great deal of restraint to stay away from you. To reject you, time and time again.”
Olruggio heard the apology between the lines loud and clear. He carded his fingers through Qifrey’s fluffy hair soothingly, hoping to ease some of the ache in their hearts.
“You’re safe now,” he said at last, injecting as much certainty into his tone as he could. “And you can do anythin’ you want now. I’ll be here anyway.”
Qifrey shifted a little, pressing the side of his face on Olruggio’s chest. When he next spoke, his warm breath tickled the little bit of exposed skin, voice a thin, thready whisper.
“I love you, Olly.”
Olruggio swore he felt his heart stop. His eyes widened, mouth opening and closing unable to form the appropriate words. All of a sudden, every inch of contact with Qifrey felt electrifying, like they were both on fire. Those four words were everything he had longed to hear, and for a moment, Olruggio wondered if it wasn’t all a wine-induced dream.
He was snapped out of his jumbled thoughts by a light snore over his chest. Very carefully, Olruggio tilted his head to see that Qifrey’s eye was closed, his chest rising and falling evenly underneath that tight-fitting top.
Unbelievably cute.
Olruggio let his hand thread through Qifrey’s white hair, and leaned his head back against the pillows, deliriously drunk in love. The next morning, they would talk about decade-old feelings, about everything that had happened, about their path forward. But, for the time being, they would both sleep.
With a content smile, Olruggio dozed off as well, lulled to sleep by Qifrey’s soft breathing against his chest.