Work Text:
Tesilid was faced with a problem he had never encountered in all his previous loops. That being: Ailette was unconscious with the Holy Fever, and he had to undress her.
For the second time in as many days.
Agnes's quiet observation only confirmed this. <She’s soaked in sweat…>
It had been a full day since the Day of Harvest, when Ailette revealed her Divine Advent before the entire Vatican. However, just as when she was little, the use of such a powerful skill inflicted a Holy Fever that rendered her completely helpless for two days.
The biggest hurdle had been getting her out of that ceremonial dress. Two days of sweat and feverish tossing and turning would ruin such a delicate garment, and given Ailette's former status as a servant in Gilette Castle, she must have gone through a lot of trouble to get it. She would surely be upset if it were damaged.
So, there had been no question that he had to get it off her somehow—but that didn't suddenly make it easy. The fact that he’d never had to undress someone before (much less a woman) made him nervous enough; that it was Allie had his hands shaking as badly as they had on his first dungeon subjugation mission.
His unease had been compounded by Agnes’s eagle-eyed glare drilling into his cheek. Even though logically he knew she wouldn’t have been able to interfere, being a spirit, he somehow felt the power of that violet gaze would incinerate him on the spot if he dared to do something ungentlemanly to her sleeping pupil.
Not that he would. He wouldn’t even dream of it. All his dreams about Allie involved her fully conscious and smiling at him: holding his hand, going on adventures, maybe even…
No. No. He was not thinking about that right now.
Really, his biggest worry was that Allie might feel violated upon realizing that he’d changed her clothes. Would she think he might have… done something untoward? Or looked too long where he shouldn't? He was all too well acquainted with the kind of scum who might take advantage of someone in a helpless state, having fought against and been tricked by them countless times. It pained him to think she might associate him with that kind of lowlife, even for a moment.
It made him glad for Agnes’s presence, because even if Allie felt that way initially, her long-time mentor could reassure her that she had not been molested in any way.
He had quickly found another reason to be grateful for Agnes hovering over his shoulder. He had no idea how to remove the jewelry—the earrings especially—but the saintess’s irritated mutterings of Ugh, no, it's in the back! What is this guy thinking?? had been immensely helpful in figuring things out. It had also reminded him to exercise extra care with the body chains so as to keep any contact with Allie’s exposed skin as minimal as possible.
Of course, the efforts at modesty had been rendered almost moot when he removed her cloak. He had unclasped it when she was lying down, so he hadn’t realized until he slid his hand underneath her that, without it, her back was half bare.
He had to take a break after that.
Even Agnes had looked at him with pity by the time he’d gathered his wits and come back.
He had been careful to keep his head fully turned away as he pulled the straps of Allie’s dress off her shoulders, closing his eyes to drape a blanket over her prone body before grabbing some appropriate garb for a fever-ridden patient.
He had picked a long, V-neck tunic; something that he could slip over her head with relative ease. He only wished he’d known how difficult it would be to maneuver an unconscious person’s arms through a pair of long sleeves—especially while trying to touch and look at the patient as little as possible—but at least he had managed to get it done, and he could put this whole thing behind him.
Or so he’d thought.
With Allie’s temperature not abating for even a moment, both the bedding and her tunic had become drenched with sweat overnight. Which brought him to the present, faced with the dilemma of whether to change out her clothes again.
He was sitting as still as a statue as he observed her resting form, occasionally wiping a hand over his face while he weighed his options. Allie might be a little uncomfortable in that sweaty, sticky tunic… but wouldn’t she be more upset that he’d changed her not once, but twice? Maybe freshening up only the bedding would be enough.
Agnes’s commentary, however, changed his mind. <I hope this kid has the sense to put her in a new dress soon. If she sweats anymore, that tunic is going to be see-through.>
Okay. That settled it.
He took several deep, calming breaths and started by looking for a dress. Something without sleeves this time.
Once he’d settled on a yellow sundress, he sat beside her and pulled the blanket down until it met the bottom of her tunic. From there, he grabbed both and began dragging them up simultaneously, gradually removing the tunic while ensuring her body remained covered the entire time.
The tunic's fabric would get stuck underneath her, so he would occasionally have to reach around to tug it up—but the trick worked well enough. He only released the blanket once he’d reached her collar, after which he gently rolled each sleeve away from her arms. He then slid a hand under her neck, lifting her just enough to pull the fabric over her head.
From that brief contact, he felt a flash of concern at the heat radiating from her body. He wondered, not for the first time, whether he could really trust the Holy Fever not to harm her. Wouldn't it be better to find a way to cool her down? Maybe if he brought her to an ice lake up north...?
No, wait. Then he would have to change her clothes again.
A sigh exploded from his lips as he set the damp tunic aside, glad that the first part was over with. Then he grabbed the replacement dress and froze as his eyes met Allie’s.
“Tesilid?”
Her voice came out as a hoarse murmur, her green eyes hazy and only half open, as if fighting against the fever.
Tesilid couldn’t move; couldn’t even breathe. There must have been something seriously wrong with him, because he thought that her heavy-lidded gaze as she looked at him seemed strangely tender. Suddenly he wasn’t worried that she might misconstrue the situation, despite being bare under a blanket with him sitting on the bed beside her. Rather, he thought she might understand without him having to explain, the same way she understood everything. She entrusted herself to him for a reason, after all—because she had faith in him. And every part of his being wanted to repay that faith in the way that the world never repaid his.
She called his name again, “Tez.”
He tried to swallow, his throat as dry as sandpaper. “Yes?”
“Don’t forget the sweet potatoes,” she said, and promptly passed out again.
He blinked.
<Sweet potatoes, huh?> Agnes commented, unconcerned. <Last time it was cotton candy. Does the Holy Fever make her dream about food or something?>
Tesilid placed both hands over his face, which suddenly felt blazing hot. Maybe I should take us to that lake after all, he thought. She's not the only one who needs cooling off.