Chapter Text
Laios awoke in a cold sweat, gripping his stomach with one hand and stifling a groan with the other. Damn, that parasite wasn't letting up. Marcille had been hitting him with healing magic at regular intervals throughout the night, but it didn't take long for the pain to return. And it was a pain he'd never really experienced before.
A part of him was almost intrigued, excited even, by the idea of a parasitic monster eating through his stomach, becoming one with him, feeding off him as he had fed off its previous host. Like what Senshi had talked about, being already factored into the ecosystem of the dungeon. But any pleasant feelings or ideas were quickly overridden amidst the pin prick sensations that never dulled, and his mouth felt as if it was stuffed with cotton and sawdust.
He rolled over and meagerly tried to reach at his water skin, his fingertips grazing the outer shell. He shifted closer slowly, given that he was still in his clamorous armor, and was just able to wrangle it by its strap. Salvation. He lifted the skin to his lips and uncorked the lid, eagerly anticipating the flood of cool liquid, only to be met with a lone lukewarm drop. He grimaced and let the water skin fall on his face. He must have drunk the rest in another now forgotten instance of wakefulness.
He glanced around, contemplating waking up Marcille, but she had already done enough for him tonight and was now sleeping solid as a rock. He couldn’t interrupt that, but she was the only one close enough to rouse without yelling, a yell that at the moment he couldn’t muster even if he wanted to risk the verbal abuse of Chilchuck and the stern reprimand of Senshi. He sighed and braced himself, bringing his torso upright. The sudden shift made him clasp a hand over his mouth to contain any vomit, but none manifested. Somehow, the desire to vomit was worse than the actual sensation.
Alright, here was the game plan. He’d slowly crawl to the nearest water fountain in the hall outside the room they had made camp in for the night and fill up his water skin, then slowly crawl back to his bed roll. It might take half the night, but he didn’t care.
He leaned forward and put out his hands to catch himself, extending his legs from beneath himself and resting on his chest. When he was in the army for all of five minutes, one of the first things they drilled him in (other than the privilege of receiving a good beating) was the so-called “army crawl”, or a high crawl, and for that skill alone he was thankful for his time in the service. Arm by arm, he crept over the cobblestone, keeping form to make sure his armor didn’t scrape the floor and alert anyone. It took a few minutes, and half a dozen breaks to regain his breath and grip his stomach, but he made it to the threshold of the door.
He could see the fountain in the distance, probably no further than 10 yards, but it might as well have been a mile. He continued his trek, trying to admire the shimmer of the interior ocean of the fourth floor. It was still, save for the occasional flitter of an ambiguous tail peaking above the surface. If it wasn’t so salty, he’d stick his face right and drink his fill, but the only sources of fresh water on this floor were those fountains, few and far between.
He finally arrived at the base of the fountain, a steady trickle of water filling a wide concrete basin. At this point he couldn’t muster as much as a grunt with as dry as his mouth was, and he hoisted himself up on the edge to drink. He dunked his head in the pool and lapped up the water like a desperate dog, interrupting his fever induced frenzy only for breath. He drank what must have been gallons, his stomach twisting and pain flaring as he satiated his thirst, and he collapsed in a heap on the floor below the fountain, coughing and choking, his vision a blur of colors.
He collected himself and reached for the water skin he had slung on his belt, only for his grasping fingers to find empty air. Figures. In his desperate haste, he had forgotten his water skin. God, he was helpless like this, and he hated feeling helpless, just like he had when he lost Falin.
He’d rest here then, and drink when he was thirsty. It was sort of risky, but he didn’t really care at this point. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool concrete, looking down at his weary body. It was time’s like this he got…Reflective. No, realistic. It was his fault Falin was eaten by that dragon, it was his fault every time they had died in this place, it was his fault he and his sister were even here to begin with. He should’ve just become a farmer, or stayed a merchant’s hand, built a life, no matter how meager, for him and his sister. Maybe, maybe his dad was right…
“LAIOS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE!?”
His eyes shot open and he found…A pair of knees? He looked up and saw Marcille, hair undone and face reddened with rage, standing over him with her staff flailing. Uh oh. He was busted.
“Oh, hey, Marcille.” He offered weakly, and she cursed under breath before smacking him squarely on the head with her staff, a cool dose of healing magic giving him temporary relief.
“YOU IDIOT!” She sighed and turned from him, collecting herself as she muttered under her breath. She turned back to him and bent down to his level. “Why didn’t you just wake me up if you were out of water? Do you know what could have happened to you out here? You’re in no state to walk, let alone fight off a fish man.” He looked at her absentmindedly, really only absorbing every other word.
“I’m sorry.” It was all he could offer her, and he looked down dejectedly. Her brow furrowed and she sat beside him pensively. “Laios…Are you alright? I mean, besides the whole vomiting and fever because you’re an idiot thing?” He chuckled indifferently at her humorous reproof, but said nothing. His head flopped on her shoulder, and she began to softly pet his straw like hair, caked in dungeon muck and tousled by restless sleep.
She continued. “I mean, we haven’t really talked about what happened. I’m sure you have a lot of complicated things going on in your head right now.” Her assertion was almost doubting in tone, but she was right. He breathed deeply and leaned into her further.
“It’s all my fault, Marcille.” He said, his vision unfocused. “I pushed us, I led us down there. It should’ve been me, and then maybe Falin could be free from her selfish, stupid, brother. Free to marry Shuro, or free to study magic with you, or…” She placed a finger on his lips and he looked up at her from his perch on her shoulder.
“You stop that Laios. Falin followed you willingly. We all followed you willingly. And we still are. Falin loves you, she looks up to you. No one blames you, least of all her. Falin…” Her voice faded, but she continued shortly. “Falin sacrificed herself for all of us, and we’re risking the same for her. That was your idea. The minute you awoke on the surface, you were already determined to save her. That’s not selfish. Falin is free to make her own choices, and you know what? She chose you. She chose this life.” A blush engulfed Marcille’s face as she gave her speech, and Laios looked at her, mouth agape and eyes welling with tears.
“T-thank you Marcille.” He embraced her with all the strength he had, and she returned the hug and resumed petting his head. “It’s alright Laios. We’ll save her.” He choked back a sob and broke the embrace, wiping the tears from his face. Marcille was staring at him, tears streaking down her own cheeks. He instinctively reached forward and wiped them from her chin, his hand resting on the side of her face. She blushed and leaned into his hand.
“You’re right, Marcille. We just have to keep moving. For Falin.” Marcille nodded slightly in agreement, and Laois couldn’t help but notice just how beautiful she was. If he was being honest with himself, he had never really noticed. In this light, the turquoise hue of the fourth floor reflected in the corner of her green eyes, her hair was undone and uneven, and her lips, chapped and parted, wore a small smile. He caught himself staring and retracted his hand, but Marcille reached out and took it again.
“Look, Laios…” She started, looking at him with a warm gaze. “After all of this is said and done…” She faltered again. “Well, I really appreciate you. A-and Falin.” Her blush was all consuming, and so was his. “You’re the closest family I’ve ever had apart from my parents, a-and, I don’t want to lose that.”
He squeezed her hand and nodded. “You know, Falin and I feel the same way. We only ever really had each other, but with you guys, we’ve finally found people…” He corrected himself and lightly traced his thumb on her hand. “Someone else who feels like home.” God, that was cheesy, but if she was offended, she didn’t show it. Instead, she leaned into him, their lips only inches apart…
Just then, he felt his stomach lurch, and he quickly separated their hands to cover his mouth. “It’s alright Laois. Just hold it in while I help you over to the water.” She stood up and lifted him by his arms, slinging one over her shoulder and helping him hobble over to the edge of the walkway. He dry heaved for minutes while Marcille rubbed his back, the intimacy of their previous conversation forgotten in the midst of vomiting and groans. Delicious, in Dungeon.