Work Text:
Dagon lays on the bed, delirious from his injuries. He had been reckless…again. He needs to be stronger. He has to be. How else can he expect to be able to take on the Shadow? He needs to be stronger, better, for his people who are no longer with him.
Niccolo Machiavelli sits beside Dagon on the bed, uninjured. How could this god be so foolish? He has once again become injured due to his own reckless actions. Machiavelli is used to this, injury from taking on an enemy isn’t new. What he isn’t used to, is how much he was bothered that Dagon had taken an injury for him.
“I’m sorry,” the fish god whispers, “I’m sorry that I’m putting you through this again.”
Niccolo frowns, but takes his hand, “I’m alive today because of you. Why did you protect me? I’m a horrible man. Heartless even.” He thinks of his dear Marietta. He should have been better to her, for her.
Dagon chuckles, then flinches. “You are not heartless. You have a beating heart, you are alive. “
The Italian shakes his head, thinking of the past. “My wife used to call me a heartless monster. She was right, still is. You should not have put yourself in harm's way for the likes of me.”
A scaly hand reaches up to touch his cheek. It’s surprisingly soft, gentle. A smile is on his lips, “You’re not like that with me.”
“You’re…different. Better than other people.” He doesn’t want to admit that he cares for him too much.
Dagon grinned, “Your heart’s not completely frozen, Niccolo. The fact that you view me as an exception is proof. Your humanity’s not lost…just hidden.”
Machiavelli looks at Dagon, contemplating. “Then if you’d like to see more of it, you should take better care of yourself.”
He smiles wide, “Ah, but a cold man like you? How else am I supposed to drive that caring side out of you?”
“...You’re impossibly infuriating sometimes. If you had died, I’d….” What would he do? Would this heartless heart actually feel sorrow? He believes so, but it scares him that he doesn’t know. “I’d…”
Dagon reaches up, grabbing the Italian’s shirt to pull him closer to him. He wraps both arms around him in an awkward hug. “I know…” he whispers, “I’ll be more careful next time.”
Niccolo frowns, biting his lip, trying to keep it together. “You better…You’re going to make this immortal heart have a heart attack.”
“I promise that I’ll be more careful, you have my word. I truly enjoy being by your side, Niccolo Machiavelli.”
Niccolo gently holds him, not wanting to make his injuries worse. Somehow, he thinks that with Dagon by his side, that there’s a chance he’ll live this immortal life better than his previous one. Somehow, he’ll make it through.