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Mavuika opens her eyes and sees his long dark hair right in front of her thanks to the tiny amount of sunlight that trickled into their room through the gaps between their curtains.
She can tell from his body’s subtle movements that he is in deep sleep, yet Mavuika reached out a hand to his hair, feeling its smooth texture underneath her palm. Then she cards strands of his hair with her fingers, gently combing them before bringing them to her face. She inhales the strands in her fingers, trying to pick up his scent.
But his hair smelled little of him—of his sweat—and more of the shampoo they sometimes share.
She shuffles towards him and drapes her arm over his body and nuzzles her nose into the back of his neck and takes in a strong whiff.
Thrain eyelids open in a flash, startled by the sudden inhale he felt behind him, but he relaxes instantly, knowing it’s just his wife.
No. He means his soon-to-be-wife.
Ever since they started living together, Thrain had registered Mavuika in his mind as his “wife”. He hadn’t told her yet but at work, he would sometimes slip up and call Mavuika his “wife”.
It was her father’s fault, Thrain thinks.
It began when he ran into Mavuika’s father, Mahuta, at the Scions of Canopy. Thrain was working at the time so they only had a few seconds to exchange greetings when Mahuta asked him, “How are you and the wife?”
Thrain casually and honestly answered him, and it was afterwards that he realized that Mahuta just referred to his daughter as Thrain’s wife. And ever since then, Thrain could not stop thinking and referring to this red-headed woman sharing his bed as his wife.
He smiles to himself before turning to face her.
Her eyes that held the sun grow as she meets his gaze. She returns his smile and inches closer to him until their chests are pressed together.
Thrain steals a glance down at her breasts and she smirks.
“You like them, huh?” she teases.
“I do,” he says, his gaze turning to her eyes; “They are one of the many things that I love about you.”
He manages to snake his arms around her body, pulling her towards him.
He watches her reaction shift into one of surprise when she feels something hard pressing against her lower belly.
Mavuika raises her chin and he instinctively leans down and locks lips with her before she pushes him down and straddles his lap.
Bright smiles grace their lips before their lips meet once more and make love on their bed.
Mavuika’s heart races as when she hears the news about Thrain’s injury at work.
From the fields where she toils with her mother, she rushes to the Scions of Canopy and finds her beloved lying unconscious inside the village chief’s house.
“We were out patrolling when a group of kids were attacked by a wild Yumkasaur,” one of Thrain’s companions explains. “Thrain rushed in to protect the kids and in the process of trying to placate the creature, it blasted him with a flamegranate, launching him off the ledge, and landing into the river.”
The doctor at the scene assures Mavuika that Thrain is alright.
“Your husband is a strong man, Miss,” the doctor, a short elderly man, tells her; “He’ll be fine. He just needs a good night’s rest. Although, to be perfectly safe, I’ll drop by when he wakes up to ask if he feels any pain or discomfort.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Mavuika says, anxiety still carved into her features.
Thrain’s co-workers insist that they carry him back to their house and Mavuika lets them, even though she is capable of such a task herself. They soon regret their decision after finding out how much heavier their captain actually was. But they are too proud to back out and they carry an unconscious Thrain from the Scions of Canopy all the way to Mavuika and Thrain’s house outside their village.
Mavuika thanks them and they leave once she settles in their bedroom.
She turns her attention to her beloved whose clothes are still damp.
She grabs a dry towel and removes his clothes while wiping his skin.
Normally, she would find the sight of his exposed skin arousing but the present situation has her worried. Sadly, there is nothing she could do for him except make him feel comfortable as she waits for him to wake.
To distract her thoughts, she turns her attention to his body, how different it is now compared to before.
In this world, the Abyss doesn’t exist. Khaenri’ah fell because there was a war of succession. The Heavenly Principles did not curse the Khaenri’ans for the acts of the Five Sinners; they do not exist in this world.
Thrain and most of Khaenri’ans abandoned their nation and traveled all around Teyvat like wanderers, and he ended up in Natlan where Xbalanque rules as the Pyro Archon.
They are no longer extraordinary humans, Archon and Harbinger.
Thrain is no longer immortal; his body does not decay. Still, he is strong just like her.
And perhaps that’s what actually worries her—that they have become more susceptible to human frailties such as injuries, ailments, and death.
Mavuika finishes changing him out of his wet clothes and she stares blankly at him.
She grows tired, exhausted by her own emotions, and she falls asleep beside him.
And when she wakes, she finds herself wrapped in his warm embrace. His legs also caged her, leaving her no room for escape, and she doesn’t mind it.
She sees him sleep asleep, his face more peaceful than before. Perhaps all he really needed was sleep.
Mavuika ignores the sunset outside and allows herself to melt in his arms, snuggling her face to the junction between his neck and shoulder.
Then she returns to slumber.
Hours before midnight, Mavuika wakes when she feels her entire body wrapped in heat.
Her eyes open and she realizes that the heat is coming from Thrain’s body.
She brings a hand to his forehead and says, “You’re burning up!”
He groans and loosens his hold on her, allowing her to get up, run downstairs and return with a small basin of water and a small towel. She dips the towel in cold water, wrings it, and places it on Thrain’s forehead.
“Mavuika,” he says weakly and her heart drops at the sound of his voice.
“Your co-workers told me everything,” she says, unable to muster a smile for him; “I’ll go and call for a doctor. Will you be alright with me leaving you for a short while?”
He places his hand over hers on his chest and nods. “I’ll be fine,” he assures her with a weak smile that makes her heart ache just a little.
“Wait for me,” she says to him with a small smile.
“I will.” He lets her hand go and she leaves.
Mavuika runs to the village to fetch the doctor, who is fortunately still awake at this hour. She stands at the threshold of his home, panting heavily, as she tells him that Thrain is awake and is with fever.
The doctor goes to his shelf and grabs vials of medicine to take with him. He packs his things and leaves with Mavuika.
They arrive several minutes later and they find Thrain sitting in bed, his back resting against the headrest. He shoots them a small but welcoming smile, trying to reassure them that his condition isn’t that bad.
“Oh, it’s bad,” the doctor reports after taking Thrain’s temperature; “Your temperature is abnormally high! I suppose you feel weak and dizzy, too, eh?”
Thrain groaned softly, not wanting to admit that he actually feels worse. He is embarrassed to admit it. He had never gotten sick for over five hundred years, and now he has a ridiculously high fever?
“Judging from your expression,” the doctor continued, “I must be right. Be honest, young man, how do you really feel?”
Thrain glanced briefly at Mavuika who stood behind the doctor, her eyes pointedly meeting his gaze, wordlessly nudging him to tell the doctor the truth.
“I feel…” he begins, “light-headed… very light-headed.”
The doctor nods encouragingly. “Mhm. What else?” He begins to rummage through his satchel, going through the small vials of medicines he brought.
“As you said, I feel weak and dizzy, too,” Thrain admits reluctantly. “And the back of my head still hurts.”
Mavuika tries not to look worried for him, but her expressions betray her.
The old doctor produces a small bottle from his satchel and gives it to Mavuika. “You’re lucky that I have this with me. Make sure he takes it three times a day after every meal.” He turns to Thrain. “And you, young man, sleep as much as you can. Eat well and drink plenty of fluids—water, not alcohol, mind you.”
“How long will it take until he’s fully recovered?” Mavuika asks.
“If he does as he’s told, then he can return to work after three days.” The doctor closes his satchel and rises to his feet. “Anything else, young man?”
A soft shade of red spread across his face as Thrain muttered in response, “I think I sprained my ankle, too.” He moves his right foot to indicate which ankle was sprained.
“Make sure to get plenty of rest,” the doctor emphasizes. “Absolutely no work or strenuous activity—” he turns to Mavuika— “of any kind.”
Her face turns bright red as she realizes what the doctor is saying.
“G-Got it,” she responds softly.
Thrain’s eyelids flutter open and he sees her sleeping next to him.
Her face is tranquil, serene, and beautiful still after taking care of him for the past three days.
He reaches out a hand and strokes her hair gently, his gaze soft and loving as he combs her hair with his fingers.
After the doctor’s visit that night, his fever took a turn for the worse, his entire body shivering despite it feeling hot to the touch.
Mavuika was scared for him and he remembers her eyes trembling and her face pale as snow as she wiped down his entire body with a wet cloth to cool his body down.
Seeing her take care of him like that made him feel bad for putting her through such an ordeal in the first place. He reminds himself that he needs to take better care of this body—his body that is no longer immortal, no longer imbued with the powers bestowed upon him by the Tsaritsa, and has never known the hardships of housing thousands of souls and fighting in countless battles all over Teyvat.
Still, he is thankful for her, for taking good care of him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone waited on him hand and foot.
He shuffles forward carefully and noiselessly towards her, tempted to kiss her but doesn’t, fearing that she might get sick. But if she does, he will take such good care of her, and remind her that even when she becomes as vulnerable as he has been during the past three days, he would still love her all the same.
Thrain pulls their blanket to cover her bare shoulder, his eyes falling on her sleeping face.
He gives in to temptation and kisses her nose before going back to sleep.
And the day, his fever is gone and his sprain heals days later.
“Hmm?” he hums questioningly at her, pausing from his meal.
Mavuika is sitting across from him at the table, sharing breakfast. A bright smile spreads across her face, adding to her radiance.
“I said, we’re going to the hot springs tomorrow,” Mavuika repeats cheerfully; “We both have tomorrow off from work, so why not? It would be a good way to relax and rejuvenate.”
Thrain smiles at her. He could tell that she’s excited about this. She probably hasn’t been on a proper vacation in five hundred years.
Of course, he, too, hadn’t had a proper vacation in over five hundred years.
“Why not,” he says; “A dip in Natlan’s hot springs sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to go there with you, Mavuika.”