Archive of Our Own

"Master Olruggio," Coco asks, "is Agott hiding something from me?"

Olruggio chokes on his mid-afternoon "breakfast." Coco sits and waits patiently for him to catch his breath before he sputters out, "How did–of course not! What gave you that idea?"

I knew it! "What's she working on?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Olruggio makes a show of trying to wave Coco off. "If you have an issue with another apprentice, go talk it out amongst yourselves. I don't want to meddle in your preteen politics."

"Tetia is thirteen already," Coco points out. "And I've tried, but they won't tell me anything." No matter what kinds of flattery or bribery she'd attempted with Tetia, Richeh, and even Qifrey over the last two weeks, she'd had no luck. Which is why she had no choice but to turn to her last resort: directly questioning the worst liar she knows.

Well, second-worst, after Agott herself, but her sneaking-around had made her impossible to get ahold of.

"Then maybe you're just imagining things," Olruggio says stubbornly.

Coco shakes her head, tallying off the transgressions on her fingers. "The last time we went shopping in town, she snuck off by herself and wouldn't show me what she bought, even though she always shows me what she bought. She used to let me study from her notebook, but now she won't even let me look at it. And–" Coco looks Olruggio directly in the eye for the death blow– "she's been spending tons of time in your workshop and sneaking back to her room in the middle of the night. So I know she's hiding something, and I know that you know."

Olruggio sighs very, very deeply, scratching his beard. "Sometimes I wish you kids weren't half as observant as you are," he grumbles under his breath. "Listen, you know Agott is a private person. Can't you just drop it for now? If it's something important, she'll tell you when she's ready. And if it's not, then there's no point in worrying over it. If you trust her, then let it go."

Now it's Coco's turn to grumble. "When you put it like that…"

"And don't you get testy at me about it," Olruggio adds, pointedly picking up his fork again as if to say, Don't bother me, I'm busy. "If it was the other way round and you asked me to keep a harmless secret from Agott, I would."

"I know…" Coco slumps against the table, defeated.

But not for long, as a small, familiar arm hooks underneath her armpit and hauls her back upright.

"Wh-Richeh!?" Coco stumbles slightly as she's unceremoniously dragged out of the kitchen. Coco had gotten better over the last few months at reading the subtleties in Richeh's expressions; her ever-so-slight frown and the pinch in her brow clearly reads annoyance.

Is she mad at me? Coco frets. Did I break some sort of witch taboo? Again? "Um, Richeh? What's going on?"

Richeh doesn't answer, continuing to pull Coco into the living room. Tetia, lounging against the cushions with a book, looks up when they enter and raises her eyebrows when Coco is pushed to sit next to her. "Oh. Hello there?"

Coco blinks, still lightly stunned. "Hi Tetia."

"Wait here," Richeh orders from over her shoulder, already marching toward the dorms. "I'm getting Agott."

Coco worriedly watches her leave. "Tetia," she whispers, even though they're the only two left in the room, "is Richeh mad at me?"

Tetia seems to have realized something; her eyes are bright, and her book is lying forgotten next to her. "Oh, no, I don't think it's you she's bothered by," she says with a growing smile and a pat on Coco's shoulder. "You'll see soon enough, don't worry."

Rather than an answer, Coco only has more questions when Richeh returns, dragging a protesting Agott by the wrist. There's some soft-looking object tucked protectively under Agott's other arm.

Is that what she bought in Kalhn? Coco tries to crane her neck to get a better look. Is she finally going to show me what she's been up to?

Agott finally wriggles out of Richeh's grasp. "There's no need to yank me around," she grouses, trying to hide the mysterious item behind her back.

"Yes there is," says Richeh. "Coco is moping because you've been acting weird. It's annoying."

"I am not acting weird."

"…You've been a little weird," Tetia says gently.

"You said that it's finally ready, didn't you?" says Richeh, elbowing Agott. "Go."

Coco jumps to her feet. "What's finally ready?" she asks, trying—and failing—to downplay how badly her curiosity is getting to her.

Agott sighs. "I wasn't planning to give this to you until after our field trip tomorrow–" she shoots Richeh a grouchy look– "so I didn't have time to wrap it or make it look nice." She pushes the bundle into Coco's chest. "Here."

Tetia hides her snicker behind her hand. "Agott, can't you be a little nicer when giving someone a present? Smile a little, or you'll scare Coco off."

A present? Coco looks down in wonder at what's in her arms. It's a roll of smooth, fine-fibered wool, dyed a rich summer-green. It has a slightly springy handfeel under Coco's admiring fingertips, the hallmark of a fabric that would last a long time and feel lovely all the while.

"What a nice wool," Coco sighs happily. "This is all for me?"

Agott clears her throat. "…It's supposed to be a shawl."

"Oh!" Coco unrolls the bundle and holds it up. It's a large right triangle, with little tied tassels along the shorter edges and a pair of metal bits near the long edge's corners. "It is a shawl! Can I put it on?"

"What else would you do with it?"

Coco sweeps the shawl around her shoulders. The fabric is quite a bit lighter-weight than she would've picked for herself, with winter coming on soon, but it has a subtle sheen as it ripples under the afternoon light, and the tassels flutter so prettily about her shoulders when she does a little twirl. "I love it!" she declares. "It's so easy to wear. And the color feels so sophisticated."

Agott isn't quite looking at her. "When you borrow my overrobes, you usually take the one in that color. So I assumed it's your favorite."

"Oh." Coco tries to hide her blush, fidgeting with one of the tassels. She's never been particularly picky about colors, really. She'd chosen that particular overrobe the first time because Agott had accidentally smudged some of her hair oil on the collar; the warm, earthy fragrance had wafted pleasantly around Coco all night. Since then, it had been habit to take that one, even though the scent had long since faded.

Richeh elbows Agott again. "But that's not all, is it?"

"Hm?" Coco pauses mid-fidget. "Is there another present?"

"…Not quite. You'll have to–here, I'll do it." Agott steps forward and takes the corners of the shawl in her hands, wrapping them around Coco's front. Coco had assumed that the metal pieces were some kind of decoration, but as Agott draws them together, she realizes that it's actually a clasp.

"You have to do this," Agott says as she clicks it in place, "to close the ring."

The sudden warmth and weight nearly make Coco's legs give out. "It's magic?" she blurts, nearly a reflex after months at the atelier. She takes the shawl off and flips it over, excitedly examining the spell inked on its inside surface. Nestled inside the main ring, Coco can somewhat recognize about half of the tiny sub-spells as being for diffuse heat. "It's like a snugstone," she realizes out loud. She squints at the rest of the smaller spells, trying to pick them apart.

Agott scratches the back of her neck, "A snugstone is nice, but I wanted it to be something lighter and easier to carry, and something more–" she gestures clumsily– "more you, so I thought maybe a overrobe for sleeping so that you have your own since it's been getting colder at night, but I didn't have enough fabric to make you an entire robe, and I'm bad at sewing anyway, so…" she trails off awkwardly. "…It's a shawl."

"And she made it all by herself," Richeh says bluntly.

"That's not true!" says Agott, her face reddening more by the second. "Tetia helped me refine the keystone pattern for the pressure–"

Tetia giggles. "All I did was let you borrow my notes for a bit."

"And, w–well," Agott stammers, "Richeh helped me tie all the tassels, and practice drawing out all the little keystones–"

"I mostly watched," Richeh counters, deadpan.

"And Tetia also helped me pick out the material–"

"That, I will take credit for," says Tetia, smoothing an appreciative hand over the shawl's surface. "I figured you'd be choosy about fabric quality and the like, what with you growing up as a seamster and all." She leans in and lowers her voice to a teasing not-quite-whisper, adding, "I wanted to pitch in some of my allowance to help pay for it, but Agott wouldn't let me…"

"I can pay for things myself!" Agott is fully red to her ears now.

Coco giggles. "I'll wear it to sleep tonight," she promises as she puts it back on. "And if it works, I'll stop stealing your robes."

Out of curiosity, she fastens the clasp again. Once the surprise wears off, she realizes, the effect isn't quite so dramatic. It's a bit like wearing a heavy fur blanket. She runs her fingers over its surface again, letting them catch on the tassels. Even after all this time as a witch, she can still hardly believe that such a thing could ever exist. Not just magic, but magic crafted uniquely for her.

Magic to make her happy.

Coco blinks sluggishly, still half-asleep. It's so deep in the night that hardly any light seeps in through the window; she can only barely make out its outline. She squints at it, frowning slightly. Something seems off, this isn't the window she knows from the atelier–

No, it's her window, by her bed, in her room.

She's home. As if all of it—the petrification, the thorns, the magic, everything that tore her away and kept her away—was only just a bad dream.

There's something wrapped around her from behind, something warm and soft and heartbreakingly familiar.

"Mom?" Her own voice sounds creaky and foreign. "What are you doing here?"

"I came up when I heard you crying." Her mom gently rubs her upper arm. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Coco can only nod, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry, Coco. It must have been awful, if it made you cry like that…" Her hands, rough as they are, reach around to cradle Coco's with unimaginable tenderness. "But it was just a dream, wasn't it? It's alright now. I'm right here. I'll always be here."

No, you won't, something in Coco cries out, rending the dream's fabric. You aren't here, even though I still need you–

"I'm sorry," she says instead. Her voice is losing strength by the second; she has to say it now before the dream melts away completely. "I'm sorry, Mom, I love you, I'm so sorry–"

Coco chokes on her words, suffocating, as she wakes. Her chest aches like it had been split open and hollowed out; she can't seem to fill her lungs no matter how desperately she gasps for air.

"Mom," she whimpers weakly between shuddering breaths. "Don't go, Mom…"

She's already gone. Coco is in the atelier, alone, by the time she finds the strength to open her eyes. Despite the night's chill, the collar of her nightgown is soaked in sweat.

Trembling all over, she pushes herself upright and fumbles for her bedside lamp, flinching as light pours out. She scrubs at the crust of half-dried tears around her eyes with the heels of her hands, blinking them clear.

The shawl, its color still brilliant against the sheets, is in a crumpled heap by her pillow; the clasp must have popped open from her thrashing. Something visceral and unnameable rises in Coco's throat at the sight of it, and she doesn't know whether she wants to scream or vomit.

She rolls out of bed instead, despite the lingering unsteadiness in her legs. Agott's borrowed overrobe is still hanging on the hook by her shelf, and she slips it on with shaky hands. Snagging her lantern, she shuffles upstairs and down the hallway to the common areas.

The smell of toasted bread and melted cheese greet Coco as she enters the kitchen. Qifrey is bustling about, humming tunelessly to himself and assembling a neat row of sandwiches. When Coco approaches, he startles slightly. "Oh, Coco! You're up late." He smiles gently. "Sorry, did I wake you? I was trying to get a head start on meal prep for tomorrow's trip."

Coco shakes her head. "You didn't, I just–" she settles on a tiny euphemism– "had a little trouble sleeping."

"Is that so?" Qifrey stacks the sandwiches and sets them into a basket by the icebox. He bends down to gaze closely at Coco's face. "Your eyes are a bit red. Did you have a bad dream?"

Coco hurriedly looks down at her feet. Even if she wanted to answer his concern, she wouldn't know how to put this awful, empty feeling in her chest into words. "Did you need any help with cooking?" she mumbles. 

Qifrey glances around the kitchen. "I'm nearly done for the night," he says apologetically, "but in weather like this, I like to have a cup of something warm before bed. Would you be so kind as to brew a bit of tea for the both of us while I finish up? The wood sorrel would be lovely."

Coco nods numbly, dragging herself over to the corner of the kitchen with the kettle. The rote actions of prepping two cups of tea are, by now, mindless muscle memory.

She returns to the table at about the same time Qifrey does; in his hands is a plate piled with bread crusts toasted in butter and sugar. "I didn't want to waste the leftovers," he says as he sets it down in front of Coco. "Do you mind helping me polish these off? I'm a bit full from taste-testing."

They're made exactly as Coco likes them, almost-but-not-quite burnt, and with a dusting of spicebark on top. But as she picks one up and bites down on it, she can barely taste a thing.

Qifrey waits until Coco has forced down a few crusts and about half of her tea. "I'll listen if you want to talk about it," he says patiently, "but I'll still be here even if you don't. There's no need to force yourself one way or the other."

Coco's eyes burn. Don't cry yet, don't cry. "Did you know about the present Agott made for me?"

"I did. She asked me for a bit of advice on structuring the spell." Qifrey's next words are careful, slow. "Did you… not like it?"

A single, heavy tear escapes Coco's willpower, rolling down over the numb patch of scarring on her cheek. "I wish I didn't."

Qifrey hurriedly pats down his pockets until he finds a handkerchief, which he pushes into Coco's hands. "What do you mean by that?"

Coco fights a sniffle, hiding her face behind the handkerchief. "I wore it to sleep," she says, "and it was so comfortable and warm that I–" her voice falters– "I dreamt about my mom. That I was at home, and she was holding me, and I was safe." She swallows around the aching lump in her throat. "But it wasn't real. I woke up, and it was gone, and I wanted it to be real so badly, a–and…"

Qifrey's hand settles on her shoulder. Her vision blurs, and she squeezes her eyes shut, helplessly pressing the handkerchief against them. "It's just so nice," she chokes out through her tears. "It's so, so nice. It's one of the nicest presents that anyone has ever given me, and Agott worked so hard on it. It's not her fault that it hurts."

"So that's how it is."

Coco startles, lifting her head. Agott is leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, arms folded, an indecipherable expression in her eyes.

"Pardon the intrusion, Master Qifrey," she continues, her voice so even that it seems strangely formal. "If you don't mind, I think I'll be borrowing Coco for the rest of the night."

Qifrey glances between them with a slightly raised eyebrow, but then nods. "Don't stay up too late. You wouldn't want to sleep through our field trip."

Coco flinches when Agott's eyes meet hers, but Agott, with a familiar tilt of her head, gestures for Coco to follow her as she turns around.

Coco stumbles to her feet, gives a quick cursory bow to Qifrey, then dashes after her. The rest of the atelier isn't lit, and with her dark hair and midnight-blue overrobe, Agott all but melts into the night, save for the occasional glimpse of pale skin at the back of her neck.

"Um, Agott?" Coco ventures. "Do you have a lantern, or…?"

"Your eyes will adjust. This way."

And then a warm, slender hand wraps carefully around Coco's wrist, and any protests she may have had melt away in an instant. Agott tugs slightly, leading Coco up the stairs to the walkway leading to Olruggio's workshop.

But instead of going down the walkway, Agott lets go of Coco's hand, reaches up to open a shoulder-height window nearby, and clambers onto the sill. Her movements are clearly well-practiced as she climbs outside the atelier, shuffling over a bit until she can hop neatly onto the walkway's roof.

For as much as Coco tries to imitate Agott's spellcasting, she isn't quite sure if she's ready to take on the same attitude toward Agott's cavalier disregard for heights. But she's willing to try. It takes two attempts to even get up onto the windowsill, and once she does, she's almost glad that she doesn't have a lantern; both of her hands are occupied with scrabbling for handholds on the brick exterior.

"It's steadier than it looks." Agott reaches out a hand.

Coco takes a deep breath, reaches out in turn, and lets Agott pull her over the gap.

Agott helps Coco lower herself to sit on the roof. The moon is the barest sliver in the sky, and Coco can't see even a single cloud interrupting the tapestry of stars overhead.

"You're freezing," Agott says quietly, almost to herself, as she sits next to Coco, still holding her hand. "I should've made you gloves instead, so you could draw better in this weather…"

Coco shakes her head. "I would've ended up getting ink all over them."

"That's fine. Tools are meant to be used." As if remembering herself, Agott lets go of Coco and returns her own hands to her lap, looking down at them. "But if you really don't want to use the shawl, you can keep borrowing my robes. Keep some, if you want. I have too many."

Coco lightly bumps Agott's shoulder with her own, hoping to make her look back her way. "Can I keep this one that I have on?"

"Sure. All yours."

Halfheartedly teasing, Coco tugs on Agott's sleeve. "What about this one?"

Agott merely shrugs. "If you really want it."

"But isn't this one your favorite?"

"They're just clothes." She catches herself. "Don't tell Tetia I said that."

Coco can't help smiling a little at that, but Agott's expression doesn't lighten.

"I like it a lot, you know," Coco says softly. "The shawl. It's really beautiful."

Agott fidgets with the knuckles on her left hand, the way she always does when she's anxious at the thought of rejection. "I… I tried to…"

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm still sorry." Agott takes a deep breath, then lets it out. "I just wanted to repay you, for fixing up my shoes all that time ago."

"For that?" Coco sits back against her hands, mildly baffled. "But I was the one that ruined them in the first place, so it was only fair. And didn't you say that I messed up the balance on the heels?"

"Well, you did mess up the balance, from a technical standpoint. But speaking practically…" Agott runs a hand through her hair, taking another deep breath. She lifts her face, as if to meet Coco's eyes, but turns instead up toward the night sky. "I like being high-up like this. Maybe because I spent so much time near the Tower of Tomes growing up. It clears my head. So, these–" she taps the heel of one shoe against the toe of the other– "even though they were awful to get used to at first, let me fly faster and higher than I could before. And I could be a little closer to the home I missed. That's what I wanted to repay you in kind for."

Agott was right; Coco's eyes did adjust to the darkness. And now she can see the shadow behind Agott's eyes, the wound left behind by undeserved shame.

"You still miss it a lot, don't you?" Coco says as gently as she can.

"I always will. Even if I go back, it won't ever be the same as what I knew." Agott's voice softens, weakens, as she closes her eyes. "But I can still love the memories, can't I?"

Coco shuffles a little closer. Only a few short months ago, she wouldn't have been brave enough to lean her head against Agott's shoulder, and even if she was, Agott would've pushed her away. But not anymore, not for either of them.

A chilled breeze blows against them. Coco shivers; Agott doesn't.

"Sometimes, at home," says Coco, almost to herself, helpless to her nostalgia, "when it got colder than this and we didn't have enough firewood to warm up the whole house, my mom and I would drag our bedclothes down in front of the fireplace and make a little pile to sleep in together. She called it a 'dragon nest.' It always felt like the safest place in the world. If I made one myself, today–" Coco scrubs at her eyes before any more tears can fall– "it wouldn't feel the same, would it? I guess I'll never really have it again."

"At least you have…" Agott hesitates. "…You have the constellation."

Coco lifts her head. "The what?"

"There's a winter constellation, the Dragon's Nest. It should be visible around now…" Agott tips her face up toward the sky again, scanning. "I know it's not a replacement for what you lost. But at least it's something that won't change."

Coco looks up herself, even though she doesn't know yet what she's looking for. "Can you show me?"

"There." Agott points toward the eastern edge of the horizon. "Do you see it?"

"Um… maybe?" Coco cranes her neck, not entirely sure which stars Agott is pointing at.

Agott pushes herself to her feet and—still astonishingly surefooted—steps around behind Coco before kneeling again. Her right hand curls around Coco's, lifting it and extending her index finger. The puff of her breath is warm against Coco's cheek. Coco tries her very best to remember how to breathe normally herself.

"Over there is the Mother Dragon," says Agott, guiding Coco's hand to point at the bright stars near the horizon, one by one. "That's her eye, her wing, her tail. And in the curve of her tail is her nest. Those two bright stars in the middle are her eggs."

Coco squints. "Two? I only see one."

"They're close together. It's hard to see them separately unless you have a telescope. Or really good eyes."

"Hmm… I'll take your word for it, I guess." Coco blinks slowly. She's tired from crying all night, and the warmth of Agott's body against her back is making her even drowsier, but she doesn't want to go back to sleep just yet. She points at a random bright star. "Is that part of a constellation too?" she asks, just so that Agott will keep talking.

"That's the eye of the Torchstag." Agott guides Coco's finger across the sky again. "Up there above it are its antlers, and over this way…"

Despite her best efforts, Coco is only half-listening. Agott's voice is as gentle as a lullaby as she rambles on, and it's getting harder for Coco to even keep her eyes open. "Which one is your favorite?" Coco eventually mumbles.

"The Greater Scalewolf. That triangle is its head, and down there are its front legs–" Agott pauses. "Coco? Are you tired?"

"Mm…" Coco nestles her face deeper into her collar. "A little… aren't you?"

"I've been staying up too late these last few days. My sleep schedule is all off."

"Don't turn out like Master Olruggio."

"I won't," Agott huffs. "I definitely won't."

Coco leans back against Agott's shoulder. "You know, adapting Master Olruggio's snugstone spell is one thing," she says slowly, gathering her thoughts, "but the pressure, like being hugged to sleep… why did you add that part?"

Agott shrugs. "It just… felt right."

"Do you, also," Coco asks, softly, recklessly, "sleep better when you're being held?"

Agott is silent for a second too long. "…We should go back inside," she says at last.

Coco obligingly rolls to her feet. Agott helps her through the window again; it's not as bad the second time around, maybe because she's too tired to be nervous, to think beyond the surety of Agott's hands.

When they get to the stairs leading down to their respective bedrooms, Coco hesitates. She doesn't know if she can bear to be alone again tonight, not while she can still feel the lingering warmth of Agott's hand in hers. She can't meet Agott's eyes, but she can feel her questioning gaze on the side of her face.

Agott breaks the silence first. "Wait here just a minute," she says, going over to her desk. She rips out a sheet from a random notebook, plucks her pen from its holder, and, with beautifully well-practiced ease, sketches a quick spell. A small, steady pyreball, about the size of a fist, blooms to life above the paper, and she sets it on the floor. "I'll be right back."

With that, she trots down the stairs to her room and vanishes behind the door.

Huh. Coco flops down onto the cushion by her own desk, stretching her feet out to warm them by the pyreball.

When Agott returns, Coco can hardly see her behind the enormous bundle of bedclothes in her arms. She dumps the whole pile unceremoniously onto the floor, only narrowly missing the fire she made.

"Um, Agott?" Coco watches, still bewildered, as Agott drops to her knees and starts spreading the pile around. "What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Agott picks up a pillow, gives it a cursory fluff, and thumps it back down. "I'm making a dragon nest. Go get your things." She averts her eyes. "…If you want."

"…Oh." Coco's eyes widen. "Oh! Okay. I'll be right back." She stumbles to her feet and toward the stairs, too sleepy to be steady despite the tiny, happy spark in her chest.

Her room is dark—she'd forgotten her lantern in the kitchen—but there's just enough starlight from the window to see the edges of things. Lying discarded on her bed is the shawl, and Coco can't help a pang of guilt. She picks it up, smoothes it out, and folds it neatly before setting it on her armchair. Someday, she promises herself.

She grabs her pillow and hops back up the stairs. Agott has already pushed her own sheets and blankets into some semblance of a sleeping area, wide enough for two, between their desks. She'd also, it seems, made a second trip; sitting by Agott like a sentinel is a white-furred plush toy of a owlcat.

Coco drops her pillow next to Agott's and lowers herself down, shuffling under the spare blanket. The stone floor is colder and harder than her bed, of course, but the warm light of the pyreball at her feet lulls her regardless.

"Here," says Agott, shoving the little owlcat into Coco's arms. "You can hold her. If you want."

"Hm…" Coco holds it—her—out at arms length, turning her over and examining her. She looks affectionately battered; the fur on her ears is worn thin, the stitching holding one of her glass-button eyes is a bit loose, and the velvety flocking on her beak has mostly been rubbed off. "What's her name?"

"Rabab."

"Hello, Rabab." Coco pulls the toy in for a squeeze. "She smells like you, Agott."

"Don't make it weird," Agott grumbles, rolling onto her back. The tips of her ears are pink. "Go to sleep already. We have that trip tomorrow, remember?"

"Mhm." Coco also settles onto her back, hugging Rabab to her chest. "Good night, Agott."

Agott clears her throat. "Like I said earlier," she begins awkwardly, "I won't really be able to sleep for a while. So…"

Coco turns her head to face her. "So?"

"So–" Agott turns too, meeting Coco's eyes in the low light– "don't worry about waking me up, or anything. If you have another nightmare, I'll be right here."

Agott must be tired too—this close, Coco can see the slight fluttering of her eyelashes—but her mouth is set in a stubborn frown, just like when she's puzzling out a spell all night and determined to finish by daybreak.

And then it all makes sense to Coco. Just like the magic itself; this stubbornness, this determination, this gentleness… those too are things that Agott reserved uniquely for her tonight. To make her happy.

Coco sets Rabab down by her side and gives her lumpy head an apologetic pat. Maybe next time.

With that, she rolls over and, before Agott can protest, hugs Agott's arm instead.

Agott yelps, startled, but she doesn't pull away. She takes a few shaky breaths before Coco feels her relax slightly. "Are you sure this is alright?" Agott asks.

"Why wouldn't it be alright?"

Agott lifts her chin to make a little more space for the top of Coco's head. "I just don't want to give you another nightmare," she says quietly. "If the shawl did, then…"

"It wasn't really a nightmare." Coco lays her cheek against Agott's shoulder. "But if it does happen, I'll be okay with you here."

"…As long as you're sure." Agott adjusts the blanket with her free arm to cover Coco's shoulders better. "Go to sleep, then."

"What if I want to keep talking more?"

"I'll get scolded tomorrow for keeping you up."

"I'll just say that I was keeping you up."

"Nobody will believe that."

"Well, not if it comes from you. You're an awful liar."

"And you're so much better?" Agott huffs.

Coco giggles. "I'm always honest with you, you know."

"Are you lying right now?"

Coco closes her eyes. "If I say that I'm happy, then I'm telling the truth," she says. "And right now, I'm happy."

Agott doesn't say it back. But she opens her hand to let Coco's fingers slot securely between hers, and that's more than enough.