Work Text:
Marcille was up to her fucking neck in paperwork. It was an overflow from her usual work flow from being Royal Magician and also working on figuring out what the hell was really going on with Falin. She was swamped day and night with papers and studies, of her own making and from other members of Laios' court. It barely left any time for her to eat, and certainly cut out any hope of her going in for any sleep. Sleep?! Now?! When Minor Baron Von Toron from the duchy of Who-Gives-A-Shit was visiting tomorrow for another plea that the half-elf could barely keep track of, or when another fruitless experiment to gauge Falin's wellbeing needed to be fussed over for a healthy eight hours?
Marcille yawned, wobbling up from her mountains of paperwork. Her head was killing her, throat scratchy and eyes raw, blurring. She was a wreck, she needed a break.
Her hand instinctively reached toward her coffee mug to chug some more liquid energy, but was disappointed when her hand found only empty space. Hadn't she had a mug here before? Ugh, no, that's right, she had left it in the kitchen. Great, now she'd have to take an even longer break. Good excuse to grab food, though.
She trudged her way out the door and down the halls of the Royal Castle, barely able to keep her eyes open. Her lovely mage outfit, which itself was now disheveled and unkempt, hung on her body like a ten-trillion ton weight, dragging her down, down, down-
She smacked face first into a wall.
It wasn't a wall.
"Hey, Marcille!"
"Hiiiii, Faaaaaalinnnnnnn..."
"Whoah, are you ok?!"
Marcille groaned, rubbing her forehead and looking up. "Ughhh... I'm fine. Just too busy with work." She was met with the kind and caring eyes of her friend, luckily not in one of her 'weird' states.
Well, weird was a bad term. Falin was weird, and Marcille liked that, so the moments when she acted out of character were best described as... uh, other, yeah.
Other. Not bad, just different.
"I heard, are you sure you're good? You don't look it, you've been holed up in that room all day. Seems like it's been that way for the whole week." Falin held Marcille's shoulders, keeping her upright. "Do you need to rest?"
"N-No, I'm fine." Marcille lied through her teeth, "Just gonna go get breakfast and some coffee, then I'll be good."
Falin blinked, "Marcille, it's dinnertime."
"WHAT?!" Marcille turned her head and, sure enough, the castle had grown dark and gloomy outside. The sun was gone, and the moon had taken its place. She groaned, "I didn't realize how late it had gotten."
"How long has it been since you've slept?"
"Uh. No comment."
"Marcille..."
"I got sleep like... on a monday?? That was a couple of days ago, I think."
Falin's soft expression grew more concerned. "You've gotta take care of yourself, I know your job is super stressful, but if you don't sleep-"
"Then nothing bad will happen!" Marcille argued, "I'm not gonna keel over, I promise. It's just a bit of exhaustion. I put myself through worse for my magic academy certification, and I was only bedridden with consumption and a barely functioning mental state for two months! That's record recovery time for most students!"
Falin looked like she wanted to say something, but bit her tongue and nodded. "Just promise me you'll get some sleep tonight?"
"Sure, sure, whatever." Marcille walked past her friend and towards the dining hall.
Falin stayed behind, a little less than happy.
Marcille had promised Falin she'd sleep.
She lied.
Her desk was covered in a mess of papers and notes and magic tools, candles, and empty cups and plates. She thumped her head repeatedly on the table, trying to get through the next set of papers, but she just couldn't concentrate.
"Ughhhhhh, fuck, just... need to grab some books or something..."
She slowly picked herself up, stumbling over to the bookcase. The library had become her second home now, even if her bedroom was literally behind a door in this place, it had been so long since she actually stayed in there. Her nose sniffled, only the lowest of the symptoms she had found herself afflicted with. Headache, exhaustion, body aches, sore throat, and the list went on.
Ah well, it's nothing some healing herbs and pipe weed and five beers and a head injury and more work and killing herself couldn't fix.
Thump went her head against the bookshelf, and she groaned.
Falin watched Marcille from a crack in the library doors, biting her lip. Oh, Marcille was always too eager to push herself to the breaking point, Falin had known that to be a habit since her academy days, but it seemed to have only gotten worse in her time working under Laios. The stress must have been killing her.
Falin wished she could use the hundreds of healing and recovery techniques she knew from her time as a healing Cleric to help her, but the issue wasn't expertise: it was getting past Marcille's near impenetrable wall of stubbornness. Falin might've gotten better at asserting herself with others, but with Marcille, all the weirdness surrounding them made it so Falin had no backbone when it came to her. She could tell her mountains of healing knowledge would go in one ear and out the other.
Falin could see that Marcille was suffering. Falin couldn't let her suffer.
Falin just couldn't help her, she didn't have the passion to do so. She needed... She needed...
Yellow-Eyes fluttered her eyes open as she lulled The Other into rest. Usually, she would be eager to wrestle control away from her, but right now was different. She wasn't doing this out of her own selfish desires to court the kind half-elf first before Falin, but under their mutual desire to protect Marcille.
Yellow-Eyes slammed the door open, stomping forward towards a now-startled who flew into a storm of hands and books flinging about before landing on the floor. "H-Hey?! What the hell- AH! Falin?! Wait, how long have you been watching me, I wasn't-"
Yellow-Eyes stomped over and loomed over her with the firmest-yet-still-gentle expression she could muster. To Marcille, it looked like Falin was trying to bore a hole into her skull through anger alone. But Yellow-Eyes didn't know that. All it cared about was the fact that Marcille looked SICKLY. Deep, bruised bags under her eyes, messy, unkempt hair, a body that was thin and weak and looked like a gust of wind would knock her down. She was pale and sickly looking, and Yellow-Eyes wouldn't have it.
"You're ill."
"No, I'm not! Look, just- Let me-"
Yellow-Eyes leaned down, and firmly bit Marcille's wrist. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to drag her forward. In a rather uncomfortably craned-neck position, she dragged the half-elf through her exclamations of protests out of the library and down the halls.
"Where the hell are you taking me?! Stop, I don't need- AGH!"
"Yrrr rrmm." Yellow-Eyes mumbled, dragging Marcille's struggling form into her bedroom.
"F-FALIN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Marcille shouted.
Yellow-Eyes released her grip and shut the door behind her, turning and pointing a finger firmly at the bed. "You. Rest."
Marcille stared, dumbfounded. "I can't. I have too much work to do, and- Ack!"
Yellow-Eyes scooped up Marcille into her arms and plopped her down into her bed-nest. The half-elf had barely enough strength to keep herself up, and she fell back onto the sheets and comforters with a soft groan. In all honesty, it was like dealing with a stubborn hatchling that couldn't stop squirming and complaining. Maybe she didn't have direct experience with those, but parental instincts (or were they maternal now? Damn this confusing mess of gender identities...) guided her well.
First, the nest, and Marcille’s dressings. Yellow-Eyes stumbled over to a nearby dresser, digging through the various articles of clothing to find the softest and warmest things to lay out on the bed. She could practically smell the sickness on Marcille, and while dragons weren't exactly masters of human healing and medicine, Yellow-Eyes could definitely provide draconic comfort to her prospective mate.
"Here." She sat Marcille up, beginning to tug at her gaudy human work clothing, pulling her arms through the sleeves and throwing the garments onto the ground. Marcille, despite her protests, seemed too weak and tired to fight back.
"W-Wait, Falin, seriously, I'm not- Hey! What are you- HEY!" Marcille was now in her underclothes, and Yellow-Eyes had to fight the urge to stare. Now was not the time to indulge her own desires, her focus was solely on taking care of Marcille. She went to stuff Marcille into the nightgown, only for the half-elf to snatch it from her.
"I... I can do this part."
Yellow-Eyes turned away, heading over to her vanity. She could see her own reflection and Falin's own tired, worried eyes staring back. She grabbed a comb, and came back to the bed, sitting next to Marcille. She chomped the comb into her mouth, and began to preen Marcille's hair. She knew Falin would've used her hands, but dragons always used their teeth to groom. Since their body's teeth were ill-suited for that, using her mouth to maneuver the comb was the next-best way to skillfully untangle knots and messes.
Marcille sat silently, watching her through the mirror with an awkward expression. Yellow-Eyes could sense her hesitance, and she sighed. "Whrt?"
"Shouldn't you be using your hands?"
"No. Yrr wnt me trr?"
Marcille's face grew bright red, and she turned away. "Uh. No, this is fine."
Yellow-Eyes couldn't stop the toothy smile from growing on her lips. "Grrmph." She mumbled, continuing to preen the half-elf. Soon, her hand was moving on its own, and it found its way to Marcille's hair. The smooth locks slid easily through her fingers, and she hummed with a content expression.
For the final step, Yellow-Eyes grabbed up a bunch of the soft nesting material Marcille had, her plush blankets, and bundled them around her. She then gently pushed the half-elf down, tucking her in and giving her a little kiss on the forehead.
"Stay."
"But I have wor-"
"STAY."
"Ok, ok!"
Yellow-Eyes took a step back, admiring her work. The first part was down, now comes the second. She stomped back out of the room and down the halls, grumbling as she fought against Falin's clothes. Why did humans need to wear so many layers?! And picked the most bland ones too…
She reached the kitchen, shoving past the chefs and workers there. Sure, Falin and Marcille might trust OTHER humans to make their food, but many a dragon were felled by ingesting something they hadn't seen prepared from beginning to end. In the midst of the busy kitchen, Yellow-Eyes began to make stew. Human cooking was a lot more complex than simply eating a hunk of meat raw, but... these were one of the few things Yellow-Eyes preferred over its old ways. Cooking was like horde-making: Gathering the right pieces that came together, only instead of gold and treasure, it was ingredients and broth. She had seen the human version enough to know how to replicate it.
The humans tried to stop her, but were quickly pushed aside. Yellow-Eyes didn't have time for distractions. This was for Marcille.
She returned to the bedroom, a steaming bowl of stew in hand. The half-elf had barely moved, and was now lying on her side and staring up at Yellow-Eyes. She shot her a prideful grin, fluffing up her neck feathers and presenting the food with a flourish. "I have prepared you food. Far more delectable and hearty than anything your puny royal attendants could make up."
"O- Oh. You made this yourself?" Marcille asked as Yellow-Eyes plopped back down in Marcille's nest, crossing her legs and holding the bowl carefully.
"Indeed. I made it in the same fashion I would make a horde, with the utmost care and consideration for what could possibly end up in it."
"That's, uh. Very considerate, I think." Marcille sat up, rubbing the back of her head.
Yellow-Eyes held the bowl to her own mouth. "Now, I shall feed you in the way other dragons feed stubborn hatchlings: regurgitation."
Marcille's hands shot up to yank the bowl away from Yellow-Eyes. "NONONO, we're NOT doing that! We're not doing that!"
Yellow-Eyes' head tilted. "What?"
"No feeding me your spit, no."
"But... That's how it's done..."
Yellow-Eyes strangely saw Marcille blush like a wildfire, as if she were attempting courting instead of trying to heal her. What was attractive about Yellow-Eyes pressing her mouth into Marcille's and forcing steaming hot liquid into her as she held her close in an embrace?!
Nothing Yellow-Eyes could find!
She growled. "Fine, I shall use your... utensils." Yellow-Eyes begrudgingly got up and grabbed a spoon from a nearby empty plate, and sat back down in front of Marcille, dipping it into the hearty beef stew and bringing the spoon gently to her lips.
Marcille hesitated. "I, uh. Can do this myself."
"Let me."
Marcille blinked, and slowly opened her mouth, leaning forward and wrapping her lips around the spoon. Yellow-Eyes felt a shiver go up her spine as she watched the half-elf pull the utensil out, chewing and swallowing. She smiled softly, and nodded. "Good."
"Falin, this-" Marcille swallowed, "Look, this is very nice, but I still need to work! I'm not that sick-"
"Lies."
"Ok, maybe a LITTLE, but still, I'm not at death's door. I can keep working."
Yellow-Eyes sighed as she brought another spoonful of the stew up to Marcille's mouth, blowing on it a bit. "You are, and I am stopping you. You are going to stay in this nest and eat all this stew, and you're going to let me take care of you. No more arguing."
The dragon's eyes softened. "I do not want you getting hurt. You work like an elder dragon protecting its horde to its death, and I worry... I worry..."
Marcille looked down, her own expression softening. "I... I'm sorry. I'm just always so worried about you Falin, and I worry about the kingdom I'm responsible for too."
Yellow-Eyes smiled. Marcille cared with all the love and passion of a powerful mage, like the old master the dragon used to know. "And you can take care of Fal- of me, after you take care of yourself. Eat."
Marcille nodded, taking the next spoonful and eating it.
They sat there in silence as the bowl emptied, and Yellow-Eyes couldn't stop the pridefulness from swelling in her heart. She had provided for Marcille. She set it aside, and gently pressed Marcille into the comforting bedding again, before climbing up over the half-elf and dropping her weight atop her. Marcille wheezed as Yellow-Eyes curled around her.
"Wha-"
"Sleep. You're not leaving my sight. And I'll keep watch over you until I can trust you not to harm yourself."
"Falin, you're being unreasonable."
"So are you. So stay."
Yellow-Eyes was not leaving the bed, no matter how much the half-elf wriggled and struggled. Eventually, Marcille sighed, and snuggled against Yellow-Eyes' form, pressing her face into her chest plumage. "Mmm... You're really comfy, Falin. Maybe I can rest here for a bit..."
Yellow-Eyes' expression fell. Right, The Other. As far as Marcille was concerned, Falin had taken care of her. Falin had been the one to get her to sleep, to feed her, there was no chance Marcille would ever attribute this to Yellow-Eyes. The dragon pouted, hugging the half-elf closer and nuzzling into her hair.
"Hey, Falin?"
"Y... Yes, Marcille?"
"Thanks."
Yellow-Eyes' breath caught in her throat. She supposed, if it comforted the half-elf more... She was okay with Falin taking the credit for now.
"You are welcome, Marcille."
Yellow-Eyes waited a little longer after Marcille had fallen asleep before she herself drifted off.
Falin blinked her eyes awake, looking around to find herself in the darkened quarters of Marcille's room. It was then that she noticed a soft weight against her chest. She looked down, gasping quietly to see Marcille drooling against her chest, softly snoring as those bags under her eyes slowly disappeared.
Usually, Falin would squeak or panic at the sight of finding herself in a situation she didn't remember getting into, especially one that involved Marcille, but seeing her friend cared for and finally sleeping was enough to make her heart swell with warmth. She leaned her head back and relaxed, wrapping her arms around her.
Whoever kept doing this for her and Marcille... She was starting to hope they'd keep it up.