Chapter Text
One second Lucio was haunting the halls of his own wing, long since abandoned by most of the palace staff and the second he was in an unfamiliar room. A string of loud and colourful curse words escaped his mouth as his head collided with something harshly before realisation hit.
He was corporeal.
Lucio buzzed with excitement, not bothered by the lingering headache and examined his surroundings. It was some sort of office, he found, and found no interest in the contents of the owner’s things. He stepped out into the hall of the building, relishing the feeling of the floor under his boots, the feeling of the wall against his human hand, the air he could breathe. He was back and he was alive.
“Whoever’s there, I’m armed, come into the light with your hands in the air.” A familiar voice snapped sharply, a few rooms nearby having light summoned into them. (He earnestly doubted a lantern made such a bright light.) Lucio obeyed slowly, walking into the room to observe his opponent.
(He/They/She) was small and looked like (he/they/she)’d rather death than anything else at this point. It was an odd contrast to the bright eyed magician he’d seen in his wing before. (He/They/She) didn’t hold any recognition of who he was either. (His/Their/Her) clothes were… less in layers than most were usually, which was odd, and (he/they/she) didn’t seem to be casting an illumination spell.
“You can’t tell me what to do.” Lucio replies in a hiss, keeping his gaze steady with (his/theirs/hers). It definitely was the same magician Nadia had hired to figure out who killed him, but something was off. (He/They/She) didn’t seem to have the magical essence (he/they/she) had before. If only he’d gotten (his/their/her) name.
“Anyhow,” (He/They/She) hummed, unaltered by his tone and jabbed the thick, metal stick in (his/their/her) hand, (decorated in paints of words Lucio couldn’t read from where he was) into Lucio’s chest. Not hard enough to hurt or move him, but merely to assert the implications of just that. “Who are you?”
Lucio couldn’t help but growl. The magician had no doubt to who he was when they met in his wing, why would (he/they/she) be questioning him now? “I and your beloved count.” He spat, metallic arm twitching angrily. He wanted to make (him/them/her) remember who he was. He wanted (him/them/her) to suffer for forgetting. “Lucio, ruler of Vesuvia. You should know this!” Violence wouldn’t get him out of this situation well, so he held himself back, a talent he’d learnt over his years of ruling.
The magician clicks (his/their/her) tongue and shakes (his/their/her) head. “Never heard of it.” (He/They/She) remarks curtly. “Some kinda cult in the area?” Sarcasm dripped from (his/their/her) voice like blood and Lucio shuddered with suppressed anger. It’s been so long since he got his hands on anyone. However, he kept himself back, to the point Nadia might’ve been impressed.
“It’s not a cult.” He growled. “It is my kingdom. This is my kingdom!” he was getting defensive and he knew it, but he also knew this magician was a local. Why would (he/they/she) pretend not to know of (his/their/her) homeland? (He/They/She) blinked slowly.
“Vesuvia doesn’t exist on any map I’ve seen, dude.” Words swept slowly from (his/their/her) lips, Lucio could see (his/their/her) guard lower ever slightly, though, he had definitely given no reason for this action. (His/Their/Her) gaze on Lucio was wary, but in a more… pitiful way than it had before. Lucio hated it. “And we don’t use the term ‘count’ for our rulers.”
Lucio felt all of his anger momentarily subside. In almost a panic he examined the surrounding room.
A couch that look ten times more comfortable than any he had back in the castle pressed against the wall, a small table below his knees in the middle of the room, a weird black rectangle his eyes lingered on floating on the wall. The living room (he thinks that’s what it was) opened into what looked like a kitchen only a noble could afford with a few appliances Lucio couldn’t name and donning a window that opened out to a large balcony of some sort.
“This isn’t- this…” he bolts towards a glass door and (it takes him a second) slides it open. He rushes to the balcony railing (there was actually a mini pool out here, it was a large outdoor area), leaning over to look out at the streets below.
The few carriages he could see below moved a lot faster than the ones back in Vesuvia and had long beams of light to show the direction they travelled. There were more lights somehow standing over the street, illuminating other tall buildings, much taller than anything Vesuvia ever built.
Lucio swivelled on his heels to look at the magician, who’d abandoned the metal stick (he/they/she) had before and leant casually against the door frame with (his/their/her) arms folded, watching him. He couldn’t place (his/their/her) expression to any specific emotion. It was some mixture of caution and curiosity.
“What did you do to me, witch!?” he snaps at (him/them/her), stepping towards the magician and jabbing a golden figure into (his/their/her) chest.
“I don’t-.” the sentence died in (his/their/her) throat, expression changing to confused pity. “Are you okay- like-.” The magician tapped (his/their/her) temple. Lucio was very offended, and made a mixed noise of a gasp and scoff.
“I am not retarded.” He hissed, stepping closer and standing a fair bit taller than the magician, though (he/they/she) didn’t express fear of any type. That only irritated Lucio more. “This place, this… this world, it’s of your creation, witch, take me back to my kingdom!”
“I don’t understand what you’re asking me.” (He/They/She) says, though the pity does seem to be less evident in (his/their/her) eyes now. There’s a pair of dark sounding growls and the magician turns to face two pure white furred dogs barring their teeth at (him/them/her).
“Mercedes! Melchior!” Lucio beamed happily, forgetting his argument moments prior, and warmly accepted the pair of dogs running to him on his call, ecstatically peppering his face in doggy kisses. To allow this to happen, the magician had to step out of the door way. (He/They/She) wandered behind Lucio and lingered mid-step. (He/They/She) then slid the balcony door open more and squeezed past the little family reunion and further into the building.
Lucio followed with curiosity, the dogs at his heels, and lingered in the doorway of (his/their/her) bathroom, simply watching as (he/they/she) rummaged through the cabinets beneath the sink.
“What are you looking for?” Lucio asked, his silver eyes gazing over the magician’s form suspiciously.
“I heard you swearing when you got here, by magic, I’m assuming.” (he/they/she) starts, not again continuing until (he/they/she) saw Lucio nod slowly. “I noticed you have a massive fucking cut on the back of your head earlier.” Lucio paled and the headache from earlier suddenly made… a lot more sense. He could also see the blood seeping down his neck in the mirror, staining his clothes.
“Oh.” Lucio looked back at the magician, whom had gone back to looking through (his/their/her) cabinets. “Are you a doctor?” Lucio’s voice was surprisingly… not seething with anger. Just wary curiosity.
“I am educated in the field of medical treatment.” The magician mused, causing Lucio to cock an eyebrow curiously. “Besides, if you sleep with a head injury I can’t promise you’ll wake up.” (he/they/she) shrugged. The smaller of the dogs growled at (him/them/her) and the taller whined.
“Fine.”
The magician motioned for Lucio to sit on the edge of the bathtub as (he/they/she) continued to ruffle through the draws. “What’re you even looking for? You didn’t answer me before.” Lucio mutters, feeling the edge of the bath dig into his buttocks.
“Hush.” The magician replied, pulling out a small white box with a green cross and placing it on the basin. Lucio scoffed and rolled his eyes, but kept quiet and (he/they/she) continued to open the box and pull separate supplies from it.
The two dogs sat protectively sat at Lucio’s feet on the tiled floors and growled at the magician as (he/they/she) got near. “I’m just trying to make sure he doesn’t die in his sleep.” (he/they/she) quips to the dogs. They consider (him/them/her) then allow (him/them/her) to step into the bath. “Damn dude, what did you land on?” she asked, dabbing a white wipe to the back of Lucio’s scalp. It stung and Lucio took in a deep breath before he could answer.
Lucio held his breath and cringed at the stinging but held through with it as the magician cleaned up the blood and wrapped a bandage around Lucio’s head. “What’s your name?” Lucio asked as (he/they/she) was wrapping it.
“What? Oh. My name is (Y/n).” Lucio hums and the pair fall into quiet. (Y/n) finished the bandage. “It’s not bleeding that much so we’ll just have to wait for it to heal.” (He/They/She) says.
“We?” Lucio asked, tilting his head curiously as (Y/n) packed up the box and placed it back in the cabinet. When did they become a partnership?
“Well, you’re certain of your story, right?” (Y/n) picked up the bloodied wipe and tossed in in the bin as she replied.
“Yes.” Lucio muses, his eyes glinting suspiciously again. He wondered what that had to do with anything.
“If I set you out on the street with that you’ll be sent to a mental hospital, and I can’t have that on my mind.”
“Mental hospital?” Lucio questioned, following (Y/n) out of the bathroom and back into the kitchen.
“It’s a place for people that aren’t right in the head, or are a danger to themselves if left on their own for too long.” (He/They/She) explained simply.
“Sounds horrible.” Lucio shudders.
“It is horrible.” (Y/n) replied.
Lucio wanted to question her further, but a whine from his dogs caught his attention. “Do you have anything to feed them?” He asks.
“I don’t have dog food.” (Y/n) retorts with a sigh, opening the door to a large white box.
“They eat pomegranates.”
“Why do they- actually no. I don’t care.” (Y/n) shakes (his/their/her) head. “I don’t have any on me though, I could go shopping, I am in need of more food…” (Y/n) trailed off in thought before coming to a decision. “Yeah, okay, I’ll go shopping.” (He/They/She) grunted as (he/they/she) leaned forwards to pop the joints in (his/their/her) back.
“I shall be accompanying you.” Lucio declares, confidentially raising a thumb to his chest like he was bravely volunteering for something dangerous. (Y/n) paused what (he/they/she) was doing and stared at him for a second.
“What? We’re not-. Not right now.” (Y/n) says, stopping him from touching the front door. On closer inspection, he wouldn’t have gotten past the locks anyways.
“Why not?” Lucio pouting, expressing the anger of a child not getting what they want. His usual routine as it were.
“It’s three AM, no worthwhile shop is open at this time.” (He/They/She) says. Lucio groans and rolls his eyes.
“But they’re hungry.” He says, referring to the dogs. (Y/n) hums to herself, looking over to the white furred canines curiously.
“Dogs eat…” she trails off and walks back into the kitchen, Lucio and the dogs trailing behind curiously as she opens the white box once more. Cold air washed out of it and a minimal amount of food was inside.
“Does watermelon sound good?” She was looking to the dogs for an answer. They looked at each other, then to Lucio, then (Y/n). “I’m going to take that as a yes.” She says, pulling half a watermelon from the cold enclosure wrapped in a thin, clear material.
(Y/n) tore the clear wrap from the melon and balled in up, dismissing it to the side as (he/they/she) grabs a cutting board and knife. Lucio poked at the ball of thin material, curiously, then looked up to watch (Y/n) cut through the watermelon and then more so, so it was in reasonable sized pieces for the dogs and places it on the ground for them. Melchior was the first to sniff at the melon and decide to nibble on it. Mercedes followed and the pair began to hungrily dig into the fruit.
“You aren’t hungry by any chance, right?” (He/They/She) asked Lucio.
“Uh… I- no. I’m not-.” There was a thud from another room and a low grumble. The dog’s stop eating, their ears perking up and facing the direction where the sound came from.
“Another one.” (Y/n) sighed. There was a small squeaking sound and (Y/n) paled.
“SHIT!”