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We had barely escaped that cave alive. Even Morga had taken enough damage to allow us to return to the inn to rest for the night. Vulgora had used as many sneaky tricks and black magic spells as she knew to try and crush us. Morga’s weapons and Muriel’s blows only proved to be a distraction, and my magic wasn’t nearly strong enough to take her down alone. We had fought for what felt like hours until finally Muriel and I hit her hard enough and at the same time that she actually faltered. Not wanting to risk it, she had fled in the same manor as Lucio, leaving us with nothing but a violent sound that I could neither describe as laughter or screaming.
I still heard that sound ringing in my ears.
From the moment we had left the cave until now, I felt like I had been controlled by a puppeteer. I walked back with Muriel in silence, I let Muriel ask the strange little man for our room again, and even as I sat on the bed while he cleaned the blood of off my body, I was still trying to wrap my head around how we had survived.
The wet cloth he was using brushed over a rather large cut across my collar bone, and I instinctively hissed and retracted slightly.
“I’m sorry,” Muriel said, but his other hand remained wrapped gently around my upper arm. “I have to clean this off.” I nodded. I could feel that my face was almost expressionless, I felt so exhausted that just furrowing my brows seemed to cause my head to ache. I looked up to where Muriel was kneeling before me, and was surprised by the compassion and understanding in his usually stoic eyes. Then, I saw the blood splatted on his face, on his cloak and chest.
I had let him down that day. I wasn’t enough to protect him. I wasn’t strong enough, my magic wasn’t strong enough to keep him from getting hurt, and even though he wouldn’t tell me, I know by those scars that he had been hurt, had been failed in the past.
“Your clothes are covered too,” he said, intentionally leaving out that word. Blood. His and mine. Why wasn’t I enough? There was a cut along his side, just bellow his rib cage, and I knew that had I been a little faster at blocking the chunk of rock that Vulgora had sent flying his way that I could have prevented that.
He must have seen the guilt in my eyes. I felt his hand move up to hold my face, gently trailing a few of his fingers into my hair.
“You can’t blame yourself for this,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Trust me, it doesn’t make it any easier.”
I didn’t know what to say to him, didn’t know if I should apologize or ask if he was okay or just leave it alone. The longer I kept quiet, the more tears began to pool in my eyes. I bit them back, I was already weak enough today. I shouldn’t be crying. I heard a sign from Muriel, and it sounded pained.
How badly had I hurt him today?
“You should get out of these clothes.” He blushed immediately after saying the words, suddenly realizing what that would mean. We hadn’t packed any spare clothes aside from the warm cloaks, and mine wasn’t large enough to wrap around my entire body.
“Hold on,” he whispered, removing his cloak and taking the wet cloth to it. Quickly, he removed almost all of the blood stains from it and laid it down beside me. “I’m going to go stand over there,” he pointed to the division in the room that hid the bathtub, “you just get out of those and cover yourself with this, okay?” I felt myself nodding again, but in truth I didn’t know if I had the strength in me to even stand. He started to move away, and I immediately felt my chest tighten as panic started to flood my senses.
“No, please don’t leave me!” I found myself saying before I could stop the words, tears coming back in full force. He fell back to his knees in front of me and put a hand on either side of my face.
“I promise, I won’t.” What I didn’t see then was just how deeply he understood my pain. All those years he had spent in the darkness desperately craving for someone to be there for him until finally he just gave up and accepted that he was beyond saving. He could see that same terror and hopelessness in my eyes, and I think that day was one of the first times where he truly began to realize just how much he cared for me.
He fought with himself for a moment before he came up with a plan.
“I’m going to take off your outer layer, alright? I’ll put my cloak around you, but then I need you to take the rest off yourself, okay?” After I shakily nodded, he carefully moved his hands to my shoulders for a moment before quickly unlaced the front of my top, slipping it off and pulling up his warm cloak around me. I spent a moment just enjoying the cozy feeling of the thick fabric before doing as he had asked, blushing as I removed even my underthings and flinching as I realized they were also soaked with blood in places.
Muriel didn’t even look at the clothes, he just quickly tucked them away to be washed later and returned his hands to my shoulders. Did he know how comforting that touch was? How badly I craved for him to keep his hands on me for as long as possible? They were a reminder that I hadn’t completely failed him, that we were both still here and alive.
His smell was everywhere now, myrrh and forest and something so deep and soothing that I felt the ache in my head lessen ever so slightly. I couldn’t help but bury my nose in the fur, inhaling deeply as I train to regain control of myself.
Muriel just sat there with me, comforting hands resting on my shoulders.
He was still covered in blood.
“Let me clean you,” I said, the words taking more energy than they should. “Please, I . . . I need to . . . do something . . .” Trailing off, I tried to reach for the towel in Muriel’s hand and practically fell into his lap in the process, my head spinning and aching.
“Careful,” he said quietly, those gentle hands still holding me tightly. “Here.” He moved me to sit on the floor in front of him, leaning against the bed, and put the towel in my hands.
I was clumsier than I should have been, but I managed to wipe the blood from his face and side. When I tried to use my magic to heal them, he stopped me.
“You shouldn’t,” he said, holding my hands in his to stop me from moving them to his wound, “it’s not that deep. Wait until the morning, once you’ve rested. I don’t want you to pass out again.” He blushed at the memory, and I felt my face warm too.
“This does feel very familiar, doesn’t it?” I tried to smile a little, because I could see the small curve of his lips and I just wanted to be free for a moment. But then my head started to ache again and I was brought back to a moment of screaming and fighting and running and suddenly I couldn’t breath. The lamp lit on the floor beside us was a fireball being thrown at my head and Inanna’s paws scratching against the wood floor was the sound of rocks crumbling above us ready to fall at any minute. I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around Muriel’s neck, hiding my face in his shoulder as I tried to block out the things that I knew weren’t real.
I don’t think either of us noticed our bare chests being pressed together, his arms wrapping further around me without a second thought.
“I’m sorry-“ I cried into his skin, interrupted by my staggering breaths. “I couldn’t stop her . . . I couldn’t protect you. I should have protected you!” He squeezed his arms tighter around me.
“You did the best you could,” he whispered, his own voice shaking, “you did protect me. I would have died in there without you.”
“But you didn’t even want to go in there!” I protested. “I should have listened to you. I just charged into that cave . . . I didn’t listen . . . Gods I was so stupid-“
“Listen to me,” he said, pulling his head back only far enough to look me in the eyes, our noses still touching slightly. “You are not stupid. You did what I would have done if I had only been brave enough. I’m glad that you didn’t listen to me, do you know why?” He waited patiently for me to answer, and when I shook my head, he continued. “Because now we know that they can be beaten, and they know that we aren’t afraid to fight back. We made Vulgora turn tail and run, and that’s no small feat.” He lightly brushed a finger over my cheek to wipe away a stray tear.
For the first time that night, I really looked into his eyes. And for once, he didn’t avert his gaze or turn away. There was a certain comfort in being this close to him, in almost seeing into his soul and having him stare into mine. He was still blushing madly, and the sight made me smile.
“Thank you, Muriel,” I said as I once again shoved my face into his shoulder. “Thank you.” I hoped that he heard every hidden word I had spoken. Thank you for cleaning me up, thank you for holding me, thank you for fighting beside me, thank you for showing me a new side of you, thank you for the warm cloak on my shoulders and the forgotten ache in my head, thank you for being here with me. Thank you.
“This was your first fight, that much is obvious,” he said, and I couldn’t keep in that small laugh that it brought, his own chest rumbling against me,” but I . . . I know how you’re feeling. And . . . And I won’t lie to you and tell you that it gets easier. But you are so much stronger than you know . . .”
I must have fallen asleep on his shoulder, because when I woke up, I was still wrapped in the smell of him, in his cloak, but there was a blanket on top of me and Muriel wrapped tightly around me. I tried to press back against him, to get closer to the source of all that beautiful warmth, but he woke up then and, with his usual blushing face, tried to argue that it was only because I kept shivering and he couldn’t sleep because of all the shaking.
Alright, Muriel. I won’t push you, but maybe someday I’ll get to hold you like this again.