Chapter Text
VALEN
The sun filtered into the clinics backroom, casting a soft glow across the long weathered counter that Valen had spent many morning and evenings having meals. She sat at the little table tucked beside the window, breakfast a simple cucumber salad that had a rich texture that was both filling and healthy. It was quiet, save for the occasional creak from the wooden beams above and low whistle of wind sneaking in through the windowsills.
This building was old , built by her great grandfather close to two centuries ago, it had seen a few renovations over the years to improve its stability and expand its halls, yet the core design had changed very little, a testament to the innovative minds that had always been at the heart of this community.
She sipped her tea and sighed as it warmed her body, eyes wandering to the walls that housed more documents and records than she could count in a day, this clinic had shrunk over time, both in stature and importance. Three generations ago, it had employed three doctors and an assistant nurse . Now, it was just Valen and her ledger. She had some very distant cousins in the capital who ran their own little branch but they hadn’t written in decades, nor did she expect them to. The ties had loosened and frayed, like everything else.
They never had many children in the family. never more than two a generation. Most often, just one. That was how it had been for her father too, an only child who learned medicine under his own father and raised his daughter with a careful hand and a dry wit that still ran in the family if her capacity to annoy Juniper held any weight. She would always smile recalling a memory of him in this room, treating Landen whose forearm was dislocated after catching a falling hunk of wood.
"I think I'm goner this time doc" Landen would say with a sense of drama that would be amusing to hear him say nowadays.
"Unfortunately, you'll still be going to work tomorrow"
"Father, bedside manner!"
"Stop fussing, Valen. It's a break, not a funeral"
"But the arms crooked"
"Then we sit it straight. That's what we do"
As she took a last bite from her breakfast she scrubbed the and washed the plate clean before hanging it to dry on the rack. She pressed a hand against the worn wood of the table and exhaled. She hadn't slept here since the wedding, it just made sense given Hazels farm was actually a better location for a clinic given that Hazel was already growing more and more of the plants she needed to keep her clinic supplied, there was also its closeness to the wilderness that hid all sorts of herbs. In theory she could reduce her clinical expenses by up to 50% if she could stop shipping them from the capital.... Hazel.
The heavy silence between them and the last nights guilt sat heavy on her chest, she was back in the place where everything had started. She hadn't meant to push Hazel, truly. But somewhere along the way she'd confused love with nudging, staging the world just right so her wife would say yes to the idea of a family.
But it wasn't about just raising someone. That was the part she could not quite articulate. Something had stirred in her after giving Maple, Dell and Luc their flu shots, watching the way they flinched and giggled, blissful and unbothered by the long-term. Perhaps incapable of having that sort of comprehension at their age. She wanted to care for someone on some level, yes but it was deeper than that. Legacy maybe? Protection. It was... something she still didn't have the words for. Relive old memories vicariously through a child, a personal hang-up that she was forcing on Hazel. That wasn't fair.
Valen had visited the towns supply house with Adelines permission a bit after breakfast. Ledger and quill in hand. The cool air still lingered in the beams and the stone, and she had the whole building to herself-until the unmistakable sound of expensive heels clicked against the old wooden floors.
“Well, if it isn’t our town’s most overqualified inventory clerk,” Juniper drawled, arms folded, an arched brow raised.
Valen didn' glance up from her paper as a she made notes. "Did you need something, or were you just wandering around hoping to disturb someone working?"
The witch brushed back her purple maid and laughed lightly. "I'm wounded.". She drifted closer, her perfume sharp but not unpleasant. "Elsie suggested I come find you, we've noticed you've been a bit more scarce today"
"I've not felt too chatty today, I would have been a little brisk with both of you"
"True enough" Juniper said, circling the doctor with arms folded below the chest. "And here I thought you were only get sharp with me when I flirt Infront of your wife"
"Juniper..."
"I'm kidding... How is she doing though, Hazel?"
Valen paused her pen for a just a moment, then resumed scribbling. "She's processing. Quietly."
"Hmm" Juniper would look thoughtful for a moment, she didn't usually apologies for things she said. "I didn't meant to cause trouble, Elsie either. We thought it might help, all those little suggestions"
Valen made a note and flipped the board to the next page. "Well, it didn't"
"Yes well, forgive me for thinking a bit of peripheral encouragement might warm her to the idea. You two always seem like you're orbiting something bigger. I thought maybe, a nudge would help"
"She told me... " Valen spoke evenly. ". That it felt like I was setting a stage. That I was maneuvering her instead of listening"
"Fair..." Juniper muttered under her breath "Chalk it up to charm of a pretty witch and her meddling instincts. We may have overstepped. Just a little"
Valen finally looked at her.
Juniper shrugged. "Alright, a lot... But, a teacup. A science kit. One book,” Juniper defended, holding up her fingers. “Not exactly manipulation. Just... suggestion.”
Juniper’s smirk faded as she gave it a bit more thought. Her lips parted, then closed again as if reconsidering what not to say. Finally, she sighed and tilted her head back. “That one’s on me, then.”
“No,” Valen murmured. “It’s on me. I didn’t stop to ask if she was ready. I just assumed I could ease her into the idea.”
Juniper gave a wry smile. “Well, you're not perfect. Don’t faint.”
Valen rolled her eyes. “You’re not helping.”
“I never am,” Juniper agreed brightly. Then, after a pause: “Look, I don’t always say things right-shocking, I know, but I really was just trying to help. We all were.”
Valen looked up at Juniper and to her surprise there was no smugness in her expression now, only a bit of hesitancy. The sort of hesitation that came when someone wanted to admit guilt without dragging it into daylight.
"I know" Valen sighed
The witch stepped back. “Come for drinks tonight? I promise not to suggest child-sized teacups or strategically placed picture books.”
“I’ve got work,” Valen said, voice even but softening.
“Of course you do.” Juniper gave her a half-salute, then turned on her heel. “But if you decide to stop being married to your clipboard, you know where to find me.”
Valen watched her go, then turned back to the ledger. The numbers didn’t seem as sharp as they had before.
The museum was always a nice place to visit when there was not much else to get up to. The smell of aged paper and oiled wood, wax polish and heavy iron that hadn't shifted in decades. It was not lot large, Mistria was hardly a place of grandeur, but it had grow over many years, its room becoming slowly filled with bits of history, carefully curated and displayed.
Valen entered the building just after midday, her coat still dusted with sunlight.
"Ah. I recognize those shoes anywhere" came a voice from the counter. Errol emerged from behind, sleeves rolled and build thick with age, beard, silvery and dense in a manner that suited him like a badge of his tenure
"You never stopped counting footfalls, I see" Valen noted with a faint smile, her coat shiting over her shoulders as she glanced about the place.
"Only yours" he replied then gestured to the inner hall. "The new wing's ready for viewing, if you're not too busy to grace it with a glance"
"I had the time today" Valen walked past him. "What little knick knacks has Hazel found recently?"
"Enough to open a new wing in the museum. She still won't give any notes though. Thinks her penmanship is Illegible"
"Silly girl" Valen mused aloud. "She's made so much progress with that already"
"Your wife is half the reason we even have a new wing" Errol said in agreement. Figured no need to pressure to sign all of them"
The exhibit was small but deeply personal, glass cases arranged in a half-circle, each with a plaque written in Hazel’s tidy, careful hand. There were stone tools from the old quarry trails, coins from trade caravans long gone, fragments of hand-painted tiles unearthed from under someone’s porch. One display held a half-finished star chart inked in brown on fading paper. Valen paused there.
“She found this in an abandoned cabin, near the secret woods. Of all places,” Errol said, his voice quieting beside her. “Apparently it was used to line a drawer of bottles.”
“She kept it rolled up in a Tube for weeks,” Valen murmured. “Kept worrying the ink would flake.”
They walked on.
“Still got the artifact rotation on display from the old trade roads,” Errol said. “Figured I’d hang onto it a while longer. Folks keep asking after the compass with the mismatched needle.”
Valen followed without protest. The trade road exhibit was older, less personal perhaps, but still rich with character. It held objects far-flung from Mistria: chipped ceramic from coastal cities, a shattered astrolabe with an unknown maker’s mark, and that odd compass resting in a worn leather pouch. Valen paused before it.
“I still don’t understand how it points due east,” she murmured.
“Neither do I,” Errol said, with a small laugh. “But the caravan that brought it swore by it. ‘Straight to the sea,’ they claimed.”
Valen allowed herself the faintest smile. “Not everything useful needs to be understood.”
She bid Errol farewell soon after, with the promise to return next week. The sun had dipped lower by then, the streets golden-edged and quiet. Valen walked with her hands in her coat pockets, the town familiar under her feet, but her mind adrift.
Her thoughts wandered back to a night nearly a year past—some long, frustrating evening in the clinic when she’d been buried in supply ledgers,
Glass vials would clink together, the flame under the copper basin flickering unsteadily as Valen leaned over her notes for what felt like the tenth time that evening. She had a tight window to get this new tonic synthesized-an energy restorative that wouldn't interfere with standard medication or cause nausea in older people. A tall order and the fact that nothing was working had the doctor wondering if she bit off more than she could chew.
A chalk circle marked the limits of her workstation. The air smelled sharp with citrus and undertone of singed herbs. On the wall an hourglass clock ticked steadily onward, half an hour left before the reagent she'd brewed earlier would expire. If she couldn't blind with the catalyst before then, it would be useless, and she'd have to start again. Again.
Valen muttered under her breath, adjusting the dropper as a pale green swirl turned an ugly, clotted gray.
"Damn it"
Hazel appeared at the doorway, a scarf holding her hair back, and her sleeves rolled up with an apron from cleaning. "I've made dinner"
"Without looking away from her chalkboard Valen tapped her chin. "You can put it in the freezer for me. I'll heat it before bed"
"Still not stabilizing?" she asked softly.
If Valen weren't so absorbed in her work she would find it amusing how Hazel used a word she didn't really understand, s
It was a correct term though in this context.
“No,” Valen sighed. “No matter how I adjust the ratio, it’s either too volatile or too inert. The mix keeps collapsing the chain, and I can’t bind the stimulants without it.”
Hazel stepped closer, hands resting lightly on the table’s edge. She didn’t look at Valen’s notes, she never did. Instead, she glanced over the arrangement on the table, her gaze lingering on the heating basin and the damp towel sitting beside it.
After a pause: “You’re heating it too fast.”
Valen blinked. “What?”
Hazel nodded toward the copper basin. “You’ve got the flame open too wide. The fluid’s evaporating too early. Try slow heat over longer time. That’s what I do with sealing wax—it sets better when it’s not rushed.”
Valen stared at her. “This isn’t wax, Hazel. It’s a stimulant compound. It has to be time-locked between two infusions or-” But then she caught herself, let the protest trail off. Her hands dropped to her sides.
“...Right. Slow the burn,” she muttered. “Couldn’t hurt to try.”
She adjusted the flame. The change was subtle, a softening of the glow. Then she tried the sequence again. For a moment it looked promising, holding its color. But halfway through the final stage it fizzled with a soft pop and clouded gray again.
Valen sighed and rubbed her brow. “Close, but still not it.”
Hazel was quiet, watching the way Valen’s shoulders sagged.
“I’ll sleep on it,” Valen said eventually, untying her apron. “It’s too late to keep pushing.”
Hazel nodded. “I’ll clean up,” she offered.
Valen gave her a tired smile. “Thanks.”
She left the lab, the soft tread of her feet disappearing down the hall.
The next day Valen entered the lab in the morning, she stopped in the doorway.
The compound was sitting in perfect suspension. The heat basin had been cleaned, the flame snuffed. No notes beside it. Just results.
Hazel was already in the kitchen by then, humming softly as she boiled water for tea.
Valen didn’t say anything right away. She just picked up the vial, held it to the light, and let herself feel the quiet warmth in her chest.
Valen stepped quietly into the kitchen, the vial still in hand, held up between two fingers like it was both evidence and mystery.
Hazel glanced over from the kettle. “It worked?”
Valen nodded, slowly, eyeing her wife with faint suspicion. “Perfectly. Which is troubling, because I didn’t do it.”
Hazel didn’t quite smile, but there was a twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth. “I didn’t touch your notes.”
“Of course not. You just solved the reaction without them,” Valen said, setting the vial down on the table. “I don’t know what you did, but I’m going to have to have you on hand more often.”
Hazel poured the tea. “So that’s why you proposed,” she said dryly. “The truth comes out.”
Valen blinked at her. Then grinned. “Caught me"
Hazel handed her a cup without ceremony. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to unionize.”
Valen accepted it with a huff of laughter. “I’ll have you know, the clinic offers excellent imaginary benefits.”
Hazel leaned against the counter, blowing on her tea. “Mm. I’ll take it under advisement.”
Valen looked at her for a quiet second, the grin fading into something softer.
“You know, I really don’t know how you figured it out.”
Hazel shrugged. “Didn’t have to. Just knew what didn’t work.”
Valen shook her head in quiet awe. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” Hazel murmured, tapping her mug to Valen’s, “here we are.”
The scent of seared fish and thyme greeted Valen as she stepped through the door, setting her satchel on the bench by the coat rack. The lights were dimmed low, warm and steady. From the kitchen came the quiet clink of cutlery and the bubbling sound of something finishing on the stove.
Hazel glanced over her shoulder, her hair loosely tied back. “Teritha’s fish,” she said simply, “Thought it shouldn’t go to waste.”
Valen unwound her scarf, loosening the chill from her shoulders. “Smells like you’ve done it justice.”
They ate without fanfare, two plates, two chairs, no centerpiece. Barley toasted in butter. Lemon rind over the fish. Simple, nourishing, quiet.
Small talk carried them through the meal. Shipment delays. Errol’s new exhibit. How the early chill might linger this year. But when the plates were scraped clean and they stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink, Hazel washing, Valen drying, the air shifted.
“I’ve been-” they both started, voices overlapping.
Valen gave a small, dry smile and gestured. “Go ahead.”
Hazel blinked, then nodded. “I just... I know I haven’t been easy to talk to lately.”
Valen shook her head. “That’s not on you.”
Hazel passed her a plate. “It is, though. I get quiet when I don’t know what to say. That doesn’t help anyone.”
Valen took the plate, drying it slowly. “I didn’t make it easy, either. I’ve been circling. Trying to find the right way to bring things up, and just... making you feel cornered instead.”
Hazel frowned. “You were trying to be gentle.”
“And still I pushed.”
There was a pause, not heavy, but dense.
Hazel reached for the pan, voice even. “I didn’t know how to say no without making it sound like I didn’t trust you.”
“I don’t think that,” Valen replied quickly. “I never thought that.”
“I know,” Hazel murmured. “But it’s how it felt. That I couldn’t say what I needed without disappointing you.”
Valen turned slightly toward her. “You didn’t disappoint me.”
Hazel passed over a mug. Their fingers brushed. “I think I did.”
Valen dried it in silence. Something too taut sat just behind her breastbone.
“I shouldn't have walked out last night,” she said. “I left when I should’ve stayed and asked how you were really feeling.”
“I should’ve spoken up sooner,” Hazel said at the same time. “It wasn’t fair to expect you to guess.”
They both went quiet again, their reflections barely touching in the sheen of the dark window.
“You always want things to go right,” Hazel said, rinsing the last of the dishes. “And I’m not good at being... someone who needs something. It makes me feel like a burden.”
“You’re not a burden.” Valen’s voice came low, but firm. “You’re my wife.”
Hazel gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “I know. I just didn’t know how to be that, with all this.”
Valen’s hands paused, knuckles tightening slightly on the towel. “And I didn’t know how to hear you without trying to solve you.”
That landed heavier than either meant it to.
Hazel’s brow creased. “I don’t need solving.”
“I know.” Valen set down the mug too hard, then flinched at the sound. “I know. That’s the part that keeps getting away from me.”
They both stood still, steam rising off the dishwater, the last few bubbles popping quietly.
Hazel turned off the tap. “I’m not mad at you.”
Valen shook her head, voice soft. “I’m mad at myself.”
A silence stretched between them like a thread drawn too tight. Then Valen stepped away from the counter, wiping her hands, preparing to retreat to the washroom, just to collect herself, maybe to breathe.
Before she could make it two full steps, Hazel’s voice stopped her.
“Wait.”
Valen paused, her back half-turned.
Then arms slipped around her from behind, smaller, but steady. Hazel pressed her forehead lightly between Valen’s shoulder blades. Her voice was quiet, but clear.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “For not speaking sooner. For leaving you guessing. I’m not good at all this talking. But I don’t want to keep you out. I really don’t.”
Valen turned slowly. Hazel’s arms fell only enough to let them face each other, eyes meeting in the low kitchen light.
“I’m sorry too,” Valen said, her voice a little hoarse. “For not listening better. For pushing ahead like love would fill in all the gaps.”
Hazel gave a small, shaky smile. “That’s a very romantic flaw.”
Valen let out a breath of a laugh, one hand reaching to brush Hazel’s cheek with her thumb. “You feel smaller than you look when I’m holding you.”
Hazel leaned forward. “Maybe I’m just more tired than I let on.”
Valen pulled her close, resting her forehead against hers. “Then let’s rest. Together, this time.”
Hazel nodded, and they stood in the stillness for a moment longer, the knot between them finally beginning to loosen.
After a moment Hazel would lean forward and kiss Valen affectionately, the doctor naturally returning the gesture. It was brief but full of emotion once they eventually pulled away.
Seconds passed by, the dishes were done, the oil lamps that lit the house dimmed, Neither of them said it, but neither moved to start their usual nightly routines. Hazel lingered in the doorway, Valen half-rested against the edge of the kitchen counter, fingers idly flexing like she hadn’t quite shaken the weight of the earlier conversation.
“Do you want to do something?” Hazel asked finally, her voice quiet but steady.
Valen looked over. “Something?”
Hazel shrugged. “Not talk, not chores. Just... something. Together.”
A beat passed. Then Valen gave a small nod, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I still have that oversized Jigsaw packet Aldia Weekly printed last winter. No one’s managed to finish it.”
Hazel’s lips twitched. “Challenge accepted.”
________________
The puzzle started with a bit of space between them. Hazel sat cross-legged on the floor, the edge of the coffee table pulled closer, her sleeves pushed up and her fingers sorting through a pile of loose pieces. Valen sat on the couch above her, legs tucked under, box propped open on her lap.
“A thousand pieces,” Valen said, skeptical. “Who bought this?”
“You did,” Hazel replied, without looking up.
Valen squinted at the box cover. A coastal village at dusk. Boats in the harbor. Too many warm yellows and moody blues to count. “Right. During that brief, manic holiday phase.”
Hazel slid a few edge pieces into a corner. “You were convinced we needed more activities for downtime.’”
“Sounds like me,” Valen muttered, then set the box aside and leaned forward. “What’s your system?”
“Edges first. Color groups next. You want sky or sea?”
Valen tapped her chin. “Your choice.”
Hazel nudged a pile toward her without looking. “You’re sea.”
It was a slow start. A piece here, another one there. The room was quiet but warm, the fire crackling low in the hearth and the occasional rattle of rain on the windows. Tea had long gone tepid beside them. Every now and then, Valen offered a piece Hazel had missed. Hazel mumbled a soft thanks without breaking rhythm.
Bit by bit, the distance closed. Hazel shifted to lean back against the couch between Valen’s knees, pulling the puzzle board closer to them both. Valen didn’t say anything about it—just adjusted slightly, letting her legs frame Hazel’s sides. Her hands worked from above, head tilted, fingers brushing against Hazel’s every so often as they worked.
“You’re getting good at this,” Valen said after a while.
Hazel huffed. “I've always been good with my hands”
Valen smiled. “Can’t argue that.”. It took restraint to not make a dirty joke out of that statement.
Hazel glanced up at her, eyes softer than usual. “I like this better than crosswords.”
“I know.”
Valen’s voice was quiet, not teasing. Just a note of appreciation in it.
They kept going. The pile of unplaced pieces shrank. Their conversation stayed light, scattered between observations about odd cuts and overly similar shades. Around two a.m., Hazel fetched the blanket and draped it over her lap and Valen’s legs, settling a little more snugly back against her. Her head rested lightly against Valen’s chest.
Valen blinked at the shift in posture, then gently brushed Hazel’s hair back and kept working.
By three, they were nearly finished—Hazel fitting together the buildings, Valen working on the sea and dock. Hazel wasn’t saying much anymore, but she was still there, warm and present.
“You ever get the feeling you’re doing something stupidly small,” she said softly, “but it matters anyway?”
Valen didn’t look up. “Most of the time.”
Hazel slid in a tiny chimney piece. “Good. Then I don’t feel so silly.”
Valen hesitated, then let one hand settle lightly on Hazel’s shoulder. “It’s not silly.”
They didn’t finish until four. The final piece, one of the little boats, clicked into place under Hazel’s fingers. She sat back with a low exhale.
“We did it,” she murmured. “All thousand.”
Valen leaned forward, arms resting on Hazel’s shoulders as she looked down at the full scene. “It’s... satisfying. In a deeply irresponsible way.”
Hazel gave a sleepy sound that might’ve been agreement, then leaned her head back against Valen, a slow, deliberate shift.
She didn’t say anything else. Just stayed there. Warm, still.
Valen didn’t move for a long while either. The puzzle sat complete on the table, tea cold, lights dimmed to a soft golden haze. Hazel’s weight felt good. Steady. Intentional in a way she wasn’t always. Eventually, Valen’s eyes drifted shut, her cheek resting against Hazel’s hair.
They both drifted off that way.
...
The morning sun wasn’t kind.
Hazel stirred first, blinking against the brightness. Her back ached. Her knees were stiff. Valen’s arms were still loosely draped around her, and the corner of the puzzle had been smudged from someone shifting in their sleep.
Valen groaned awake like someone surfacing from a coma. “What time is it?”
Hazel tilted her head. “Too late to pretend we made good choices.”
Valen rubbed her eyes and frowned down at the puzzle. “I think my brain is stuck in piece-matching mode.”
Hazel stretched, spine popping. “You said downtime. You didn’t say it would cripple us.”
Valen gave a soft sound that might’ve been a laugh, but it came out hoarse. “We’re doing this again.”
Hazel looked up at her, eyes still a little bleary but warm. “Yeah. We are.”
“Coffee?” Hazel asked over her shoulder.
“Regret?” Valen mumbled, already slumping into a chair.
Hazel’s lips twitched. “One full cup of each.”
The clatter of mugs followed. Exhausted but light. Side by side again. For once, in sync.