The Living Pay The Debt
Team: Aschenputtel
Prompt: Schreibaufgabe: schreibe in der Ich-Perspektive (fürs Team)
Wörter: 743
Fandom: Collegia Magica Trilogie von Carol Berg
Charaktere: Dante, Portier de Duplais
Spoiler: Spielt am Ende von The Soul Mirror und es wird einiges erwähnt was in dem Buch passiert
Plot: Zwei Männer reden nicht über ihre Gefühle während sie sich eine Wohnung teilen.
Mods! Ich hab noch keinen Tag und Collegia Magica auch noch nicht
I knew that refusing Portier's offer would have meant a continuation of my stay in the sorcerer's hole. He assumed that this was the reason I had accepted. I gathered as much from his mumblings in one of his less clear moments. (There were many of those in the first few days and I was surprised that he'd ever been lucid long enough to yell at the King about my innocence). I had not denied it. In his fevered state, Portier wouldn't have remembered anything I told him anyway. Besides, he was rarely alone. His room was crawling with what must have been every high-ranking member of the Collegia Medica. King Philippe had sent for them of course and every single one in the vicinity of the city had healed his command. For once, I couldn't bring myself to care about the high-born and their privileges. Not that I would tell that to anyone.
After a few days, he had recovered so much that his mind was again firmly anchored in this world though he still got tired quite easily. He didn't bring up my reason for accepting his offer again and neither did I. It didn't change anything after all.
The physicians still visited daily. He wasn't in any immediate danger of losing his leg anymore but to keep it like that required a variety of potions and salves. None of them liked me being in the room with them. Most just coughed politely and insistently. I ignored it and when it got too bad asked if they should really look after a patient since they clearly sounded sick themselves. Only one of them asked me to leave. When I asked why he explained that he was a Master of the Collegia Medica and that he did not work with somebody looking over his shoulder.
Neither Portier nor Anne would be able to help me if I set the man on fire here and now. Besides, I could miss and hurt Portier instead. So I just gritted my teeth and hissed: "Don't worry, I won't look over your shoulder." And before he could say anything else I added that two Masters were responsible for Portier's current state and that one of them had been from the Collegia Medica. He didn't say anything after that though I didn't need my eyes to know that he wasn't happy about it. Somehow I had missed that fact that Portier could overhear our conversation.
"You know," there was some shuffling from his direction and he whimpered quietly. Probably he was trying to prop himself up in his bed, "I don't think there is more than one physician who wants to kill me because he thinks my death will power a ritual that wreaks more havoc on this world than the Blood Wars did. I'm not in danger anymore."
He was right of course. And even if he wasn't me staying in his room all the time wouldn't help him. It was more likely that the foolish Peacock was right and that Portier was a Saint Reborn who couldn't die than that I would be capable of doing anything to save him.
"Would you rather I left you alone?"
Another whimper. Hadn't any of those fools given him something for the pain? "No. But I want the people who are trying to save my leg be undistracted. And will be distracted if they worry about you breaking all their bones because you think they are involved into Gautieri's schemes."
Again he was right. But before I could point out that I had never broken all bones in someone's body, he continued: "But now it's late. I think I'll take my sleeping potion now."
He didn't add perhaps this time it will work as these fools promised and give me a dreamless sleep. The only reason I'd never woken from his nightmares was that my own nightmares always woke me much earlier. It was better this way since it meant he didn't know about mine. Knowing Portier he would probably find a way to feel guilty about that, too. He felt bad enough now, thinking he was just waking me from well-deserved sleep. He'd never understand that even without the nightmares I would prefer being awake to sleeping, or rather waking up after sleeping and being surrounded by darkness.
I could not explain him that. So I just wished him a good night and left for my own room.