Chapter Text
She fell asleep by the fire.
Muriel, for once, is frustrated by the quiet--he has far too much room to think. Far too much time to consider the events of that day. Absently, he runs his fingers over the wounds Fey had tended. What was raw and bleeding mere hours before now looked to be weeks old, and far neater than many scars he’d gained from lesser wounds. If he focused, he could feel the slight remnants of her magic like electricity under the skin.
It’s uncomfortably intimate, being healed by someone. Muriel can still feel the gentle drag of soft fingertips on his skin--can still feel Fey’s careful intent, the way she handled him like spun glass that might shatter at one wrong touch. Face warm, he stares down at his hands for a moment before shaking the thoughts from his mind. His eyes land on Fey’s sleeping form, drooped over the small stool by the hearth, her cheek squished against folded arms. That can’t be comfortable. Muriel’s eyes flick to his empty bed. It’s not much, but the least he can do is save her from a backache and a crick in her neck in the morning. It's not like he'll be getting any sleep regardless.
He should move her.
Before he can second guess himself, he’s gingerly scooping her up in his arms, careful to hold her away from his body. She stirs slightly, murmuring softly in sleep, her fluffy hair slipping into her face in the process. As carefully as he can, he lays her down on the bed--his bed--and pulls the furs over her. Despite himself, he gently sweeps her hair out of her face.
Inanna noses his leg with a huff, startling him slightly. She gives Muriel a knowing look, and he watches in disbelief as she hops onto the bed to curl up against Fey’s sleeping form.
Muriel flushes, turning abruptly back to his pile of furs in the corner. Propped against the wall, he tips his head back to stare at the ceiling--anything to keep his eyes off the figure sleeping peacefully across the room. He’s once again struck by the shocking intimacy of his situation. For so long, there was no one but Asra, but suddenly this other fluffy-headed magician is in his life--in his bed!--whether he likes it or not.
Whether he likes it or not, Muriel has a decision to make. He’s not sure how to feel, which is unusual. With anyone else, there’d be no question. Just let them forget.
But with Fey… it occurs to him how callous that would be. She’s missing so much already--having been there for Asra through everything, he’s uncomfortably familiar with what she lost. Before now, he’d never been confronted so directly with a chance to give her the myrrh--they’d been nothing but passing strangers. There was no need to remember him.
But now, to not give her the charm was a choice. One he didn’t think he could stomach without guilt. He recalls her own guilty reaction when she thought it was her fault she’d forgotten him. She didn't deserve yet another memory-related hangup. Besides, it would be frustrating if she forgot. Watching her struggle to remember him each time they ran into each other by happenstance would be worse than just… having to deal with being known. Probably.
Muriel sighs.
In the morning, he thinks. He’ll give her the myrrh in the morning. Immediately, something softens within him at the idea. In the dark, he can just see the vague rise and fall of her breathing beneath the furs, Inanna tucked beside her. It’s soothing.
As he drifts off, some quiet part of him considers that it’s not just for her sake that he’s choosing to let her remember. Muriel can’t quite shake the memory of her healing touch, of her gentle insistence that he allow her to take care of him. He’s still baffled by how hard she’d pushed herself, expending efforts that he frankly didn’t feel worthy of. Maybe the quiet part of him that wants more of that is selfish.
Maybe... it wouldn’t be so bad to be remembered.