Work Text:
Anaxa poured over his documents, crouching over the table, huffing as his pen gives its last flick of ink.
His back gives a horrifying crunch as he straightens, something he can hear Cerces’ branch sighing about in a distance, finally getting some reprieve from the positions he’s been in for hours. His thin neck is protesting too, muscles seizing up in an uncomfortable manner the second he twists his head to the side too quickly.
His hand tries to shoot up to where the pain is, immediately stopping because of the same reason it started. “Tsk.”
It hardens, a response to stop the pulled muscle from getting hurt any further. This is not how he wanted to start his morning after being awake all night. Correction, being awake for the last few days.
His whole arm falls back down, motionless at his side, pen barely hanging from his forcefully relaxed hand. He tries lifting his forearm to at least place the pen on the table, only to hiss at the pain and drop the tool altogether on the cluttered ground. Great.
“What a useless body…” He very well knows it’s his own fault, but ideas aren’t something one can capture with comfort, especially ones like his that encompass humanity and the Titans themselves. Hours upon hours must be used to meticulously write out each and every single possibility of his theories, lest this crumbling body forgets them.
With half his upper body jeopardized and spine screaming at him, he stays still. Breathing in and out, the expansion of his lungs only serves to worsen the pain of not just the muscle, but also the headache currently making itself known against his temples.
His lab is fully furnished, given how much time he spends here rather than the provided Lecturers or Sages room. Knowing he’ll only get worse if he stays, he still reorganizes his table into a system only he knows with his good side, wincing at every movement, to give himself peace of mind.
He can feel the annoying presence of branches, peeking through the window.
He grits his teeth, in annoyance and pain, finishing as fast as possible. A pen there, tools for alchemy and special inks into other corners. The ingredients will simply need to be organized later, when his body isn’t fighting against him. Heaving a harsh sigh, hating how tired he sounds, he pushes through it all.
When he’s at least somewhat sure that his table is no longer as messy as it was, he pushes himself backwards, chair screeching against the unkept ground. Again, his body protests, but he has to push through, lest he actually gets stuck in a chair for the rest of his life until Hyacine decides to break into his very off-limits lab and lecture him about safety and health and whatnot.
Hands against the table, or should he say hand considering the other one is barely functional thanks to the pulled neck muscle, he stands up. It takes an unnecessary amount of effort and preparation for an action so simple, but he manages on the first try.
And immediately, his knees give up on him and buckle.
“Curses-“
He really underestimated how fragile his body had become, with all his experiments. His head spins as he falls, the split second of his body falling making sure to remind him of how damaged he is, pain shooting from pretty much every single part of him accept his non-dominant side.
Fortunately, he does not hit the ground.
Unfortunately, it is Cerces’ herself holding him up, that is to say, her branches.
“Fufufu~ What a fragile little human you are…”
He stays quiet, giving silent treatment to the very undignified behavior of a god helping out a man so blasphemous the likes of which Amphoreous had ever seen.
Branches that caught him under his armpits slowly extend around his torso, circling around the junction of his neck and shoulder where the pulled muscle is, supporting everything that shouldn’t be moved in a way branches should never be capable of.
His knees in particular ache in a way only hours of sitting in the same position could cause. When the tendrils get to them, they’re gentle, only sliding under the pained joints and never pressing too harshly or moving too fast. The pieces of divine tree also wrap under the rest of his legs, then lift him entirely with no issue.
How he caught this Titans gaze, he doesn’t care, especially since he’s absolutely sure she saw the theory he’s been creating this entire time, one focused on the alchemical composition of Titans and humans, in which he had also been comparing the two.
“Pray tell, why is a high and mighty god such as you helping out a weak little human…?”
He isn’t really curious; he couldn’t care less actually. The gods are no different than humans, even if they wield more destructive power. He would ask the same question to a student like Phainon, who would do this exact action as well.
A useless luxury.
The god, definitely feeling smug and satisfied, whatever her reasons may be, gently (and isn’t that an atrocious thing to think about) lays Anaxa down onto the makeshift bed he has in a forgotten corner of his lab. She slowly unwinds the branches, moving his unwilling body into a position most comfortable.
“Weak? Perhaps physically, you are very weak. A simple breeze would blow you away I fear.” She comments, the smile in her voice clearly echoing throughout Anaxa’s pulsing head. He closes his eyes and bristles, hearing the voice of a god being too much in his fragile state, though he’d much rather attribute the reaction to his annoyance.
“Your mind, however, is simply a wonderful maze. Even such blasphemous ideas, completely against my own opinions, are worth listening to.” The branches, now having grown soft leaves and covered in delicate moss, cradle his body in a way his blanket would be, were he to have one. Clearly the god is trying to make a fool of herself, pampering – ew – him like this.
Thinking of a comeback proves impossible, the flowers on the branches he recognizes as ones with a calming, somniferous effect, making it difficult to keep his eyes open when their scent wafts through the air, along with the pain still searing across his whole body.
Muscles jump at any sudden movement; his neck muscles seize up even further, locking his shoulder in a position that almost makes him look like he’s shrugging on one side. His legs have absolutely no energy left, and his spine finally relaxes at the new, comfortable place he’s in, making any fight he might’ve had in him immediately sap away.
His headache still continues its torment, but very slowly eases at the careful prodding of branches trying to get his body to relax. He twitches at the feeling and sensation of the soft moss and motherly voice, thinking he’d rather be repeatedly stabbed with those branches rather than whatever this is, before his eyes start to slowly close against his will.
He can feel a heavy sort of energy weighing his mind down. He wants to study it, brain working overtime to figure out what it is. He can only guess it was quick alchemy, given how out of nowhere it appeared. An energy of sorts in the air. He doesn’t get far though, as Cerces speaks once more.
“But even a maze requires loads of energy to solve. Your puzzles are no different, child, and you’ve used up every bit of energy in this crumbling body of yours for this one.” The pain settles slowly, his awareness swimming.
He hates the vulnerability, especially in front of a god that had done nothing to help him when he’d actually been vulnerable and begging for comfort, unlike now, when discomfort is simply the new best he’ll ever get.
“Go… away…” He mutters, as his eyes slip shut, pain and the soft gentleness of a god he’s been against since the very beginning, beckoning him to sleep.
“Sleep, blasphemer.” The voice replies after he falls into a deep slumber void of nightmares, the words sounding unlike an insult at all.
---
Ananxa wakes to the sounds of way too many people for him to be inside his lab.
“Oh! He’s awake! Hyacine!” An immediately recognizable voice shouts from somewhere by his side, much too loud for the condition Anaxa is currently in. The dog gets reminded of this immediately, Castorice speaking up from a few meters away, clearly keeping her distance.
“Phainon, quieter please.”
“A-ah... sorry, prof.”
Said professor would love to actually roll his eyes, were his head not still experiencing a full-blown migraine. Light steps come closer, then shuffling as two of his students move to make room for his assistant.
“He probably has a migraine…” Hyacine comments, likely taking a look at his entire body, searching for any other signs that he’s awake other than the light twitches he’d managed the past few seconds. He can only slightly open his eyes, the muscle pain making him feel like he’s running a marathon just trying to lift a hand. It’s a horrible feeling, more or less being unable to move.
Though it’s slightly more bearable with his troublemakers surrounding him, since they're too soft to do anything to him. They’re way too attached to a professor, seriously.
“Overworking himself again… Haah, he holed himself up for four whole days this time…” The healer sighs, Little Ica at her side snorting happily at being fed an apple for a job well done. He shudders at the thought of that little thing being anywhere near him. It’s probably thinking Anaxa is its next meal or something, the terror.
“Ah, is he cold? He shivered...” Castorice notices immediately. Some rustling and a blanket that’s coarse is layed on him. He recognizes the uncomfortable, but familiar, texture. “This is the only blanket he has here, but it’s not very comfortable.”
Hyacine gets done with her quick check-up, thankfully having moved him very little.
“My healing will help somewhat, but let’s let him rest a while longer…” She mutters and Anaxa feels warmth settling into his weary bones, making him sleepy again. He’s really pushed over his limit, but it needed to be done.
“Four whole days… Y’know, not that surprising, considering he actually walked out on a lecture.” Phainon mutters. From the echoing silence, Anaxa nearly wants to actually move and damage this body further, just to give Phainon a good smack over the head.
“Professor had really overdone it this time. Hyacine, do you know how much longer he won’t be able to teach?” Castorice asks, clearly worried for him. The soft-hearted girls eyes bore into him, and he very nearly feels bad. Ugh, these three just had to be exactly like pathetic puppies yowling for attention.
“Yeah, is there anything we can help with in the meantime?” The little hero asks, Castorice nodding along. Anaxa, stuck silent but wishing he could berate these idiots for taking on more than they should be as students, just lays silently. He ‘ll just let them have it when his whole body doesn’t hurt.
“Oh, of course!” Hyacine cheerily replies. He isn’t sure if she noticed him being awake, but he feels as though she’s way too happy about making him have less work. “We can make sure the other Lecturers and students know of him being unavailable for now. And then, we can…”
Their voices slowly trail off, getting farther and farther. He manages to get his eyes open, despite the fatigue, and is about to hold out his hand and shout (read: try to sound assertive while sleepy) for them, when a familiar branch ensnares his wrist.
Still disgustingly soft and still very much an unwanted presence. He jerks away, nearly yelping at the shock his muscles receive going from complete relaxation to painfully alert.
Clearly Cerces does not care, helping his body (that immediately decided to lose all strength and crumble) still, moss covered branches carefully laying his body down.
“Even the mightiest of brains need a break. Rest.”
The voice echoes in his mind once again, aggravating his migraine. He seethes, hissing out insults at the Titan, all of which are broken up into wheezing because of his muscles seizing at the sudden movements.
“What a stubborn little human you are…” She replies, still in his head though much quieter. “After all I’d done for you...”
The teasing tone makes him bristle, but he can’t do much in his state. He decides to yell back in his head instead, making his argument.
‘I never needed you to coddle me for your own entertainment, Cerces.’ He huffs, ignoring the way his side twitched in pain. ‘I would have recovered within a day anyhow, lying on a bed or on the floor.’
“Recovered?” She hums, branches once again extending around him and encircling his body, soft moss smelling of poppies supporting his limbs in way much more comfortable than laying on the hard sofa. “At most, you would’ve been able to stand up and barely walk.”
Anaxa brushes the comment off, not needing commentary about bodily health from a literal tree.
When he’d managed to open his eyes he’d seen that he’s in his lecturers room, the one he never uses. No wonder it’s so uncomfortable. Why is he even in here, wasn’t he in his research lab…
Cerces’ weird laugh, that’s simply a huff, immediately confirms his suspicion.
“Don’t worry,” She assures, “no one saw me moving you. Your little disciples were very worried, not having seen their teacher for so long.” As moss brushes his forehead, getting rid of the annoying fringe sticking to his sweat-slick forehead. “They even asked me for guidance, on how to help their precious teacher.”
Anaxa can already imagine them knocking on his lab door, irrationally worried for a grown man, though to him the imagery turns out to look more like puppies needily scratching at the door, whining for attention. The little creative direction of the scene makes even Cerces laugh.
Had he accidentally fused with the annoying Titan? Why is she in his head?
“No, you haven’t fused with me, at least, not yet.” Clearly, she expects him to go as far somewhere in the future. Well, he isn’t one to deny his plans. “Simply me extending my godly grace.”
He bristles at the pleased voice. ‘I’d rather- ‘
“Yes, yes, child, you would rather be in dear Aglaea's golden threads. Now hush, you need to rest to topple the Titans, no?” The poppies, with their properties of inducing sleep, once again take effect, making him drowsy.
As much as he’d love to tear out his ears hearing all that, the sleep calling him is much too sweet. He isn’t one to be tempted by simple pleasures, but he distinctly remembers being unable to hear the Reason Titan in his sleep.
His head and the area turn quiet, lulling him to sleep.
---
The next few times he’s lucid, his assistant teacher helps him drink and eat, though he isn’t too fond of it. In return the girl threatens him with Ica-
(“Professor, Ica can also do this for you if me doing it is much too uncomfortable?” Hyacine asks, presenting Ica like a plushie and shoving it in Anaxa’s face.
“Professor? Professor, why do you look like that? Professor?!”)
-completely unintentionally. He’ll likely never live it down, the branches wrapping around him like blankets trembling with barely hidden laughter.
“Haha-“ The annoying Titan clearly can not hold it anymore, having seen Anaxa backing away from the fat little unicorn like it’s an infectious disease. “Child, how is it that you have no fear in the gods, but a cute plush creature like that makes you cower?”
Anaxa’s face twists into a scowl, glaring at the pieces of malleable wood brushing through his hair and detangling it.
He’d given Hyacine a stern look seeing her dark circles from overworking herself. He’s also told her to use his facilities for the time being -accept his lab of course- so she could handle everything more easily. He’s also reminded her to make a use of his other students as she pleases, giving her free reign. Hopefully, the girl doesn't run herself ragged.
“That… thing is no creature. An abomination, perhaps.”
Cerces sighs like she’s a mother hearing some stupid thing a five year old made up and Anaxa wants to slap the branches away once more.
“Your cute little students are such sweethearts…” She comments, changing the topic, “They’ve been running around doing your usual errands like bees, just so you could rest. That silver-haired one even taught a debate class, did you know?”
“Tch. I know. Phainon decided to have the debates right outside my windows, so I could know just how well it was all going.” The noise had been unbearable.
“You enjoyed it right? Especially the little hero demanding respect. I personally really liked his arguments.” Cerces, now done with his hair, left it loose and once again maneuvered him to get him to lay down. He hates how he’s gotten used to it, but Hyacine has specifically given orders for him not to move and used Castorice as a threat.
Apparently, Castorice has been all too on board with giving him the sweet release of death, were he to not cooperate. Had he truly taught them to be so unruly?
“You’re worried for their wellbeing.”
It’s not a question. Anaxa looks to the side, through the window to glare Cerces straight in the face.
“I am a teacher and they are my students. I am responsible for them.”
He gets no response, simply getting his muscles kneaded like dough by the branches again making him lay down. He has no idea what Hyacine had done, but every time she heals him, he turns from a pile of pain and fatigue to a useless pile of biomaterial.
Cerces hums, clearly not believing his statement.
They don’t devolve into that any further, Cerces clearly understanding his motivations for wanting to steer clear of being too close to anyone. She once again produces poppy flowers, lulling him to sleep as they argue about one thing or another quietly, exchanging opinions and alchemical techniques.
He falls asleep within the hour, just like all the other times the Titan herself put him to sleep, without dreams or nightmares.
---
A week of rest, something practically unheard of for him, and he’s back on his feet.
He continues his work and his private research. He continues teaching classes, arguing with his students, giving them advice.
He learns that everyone absolutely adored Phainons debate class, that Castorice had become a part of the multiple book clubs he’s been personally helping out in exchange for free use of the libraries they’re associated with, particularly by writing her own stories, which she hesitated to show him.
As for Hyacine, she had stayed as beloved as before, if not more. He feels a small feeling of affection, before squashing it down and beating Phanon in a debate within five minutes.
Life moves on.
Sometimes, branches organize his table for him.
Sometimes, his lab has some poppies on the windowsill.
And sometimes, an annoying Titan brushes through his hair, just like his sister had done when he was younger.