Chapter Text
Marcin didn't remember much. Last thing he recalled was fighting Maciej, his sword raised high, ready to fight to the death for his love. And now -
His head throbbed with every heartbeat. He groaned quietly, wanting to sit up, but feeling a gentle hand pushing his shoulder down. He felt a slight weight on his forehead. A wet cloth instantly relieved his pain.
A soft hand delicately ran its fingers down his cheek, grounding him instantly.
He tried to open his eyes, but his vision was blurry. He hesitated, looking up at the person nursing him.
Although Marcin couldn't see well, he was certain he'd recognise those eyes anywhere. A soft sigh escaped him as he shut them again and his shoulders relaxed.
His voice was barely above a whisper. "Aniela?"
The hand on his cheek froze.
For a long time, there was only silence.
Then a quiet answer. "Not quite."
The voice was low. Male.
Definitely not Aniela.
Marcin frowned, trying to force his eyes open again. The room spun violently as he lifted his head, resulting in him shutting his eyes and groaning.
"Don't move, I think you have a concussion."
That voice...
Recognition hit him like a slap in the face.
"Maciej?"
"Unfortunately."
Marcin's jaw tightened. Even injured and barely conscious, his pride flared immediately. "You should've just let me to die."
A short, humourless laugh escaped Maciej. "I considered it. Heavily, believe me."
Marcin groaned as the cloth was removed from his forehead. "Then why didn't you? It would've been what you wanted. Me, dead. Aniela all for yourself."
There was another pause as Maciej dipped the cloth into water, placing it back on Marcin's forehead. "Because I'm not you."
The words were calm, but hit harder than any insult could have. "That would've been the easy way out. And I'm not a coward."
Marcin felt Maciej's breath next to his ear, the other man leaning down to get closer to him. "I'd rather have the satisfaction of killing you myself, than letting you escape to death through a stupid accident."
Marcin wanted to argue with him. To insult him. To remind him exactly who he was speaking to. Instead, he felt his head spin as exhaustion dragged him back under.
~
When Marcin woke up again, sunlight filtered through the small window besides him. His head still pounded, although no longer as if someone had split his skull apart with an axe. Every muscle in his body protested as he shifted.
He opened his eyes carefully. But this time, the room stayed still. First thing he noticed was the ceiling. Straw? The second was the smell.
Hay. Animals. Mud.
He immediately felt sick. "Oh, God."
He heard a snort from nearby. Marcin turned his head to find Maciej standing at a workbench, hammering away at a piece of metal.
Marcin looked around the room in horror. "Are we in a stable?!"
"Well, it was that or leaving you to bleed out in a ditch."
"I would've preferred the ditch."
Maciej didn't even look up. "Yeah, whatever you say, city boy."
Marcin attempted to sit up. A terrible mistake. Pain immediately exploded behind his eyes. He dropped back into the bed with a groan.
Maciej put down the hammer and leaned on the table. "I told you not to move."
"You sure do enjoy bossing me around, huh?"
"And you enjoy ignoring my suggestions."
Marcin scowled.
The silence that filled the room was uncomfortable. Not because they had nothing to say, no, quite the opposite. There were too many questions filling Marcin's head. But he decided on the most important question first.
"Any news from Aniela?"
That earned another snort from Maciej. "You're joking, right?"
"I'm serious."
"She doesn't know either of us are here. I don't think she cares, either."
Marcin frowned. "No, no, she'll be worried."
"I doubt it."
"She cares about me."
Maciej barked out a laugh. "Come on, no she doesn't."
"She does."
"Marcin-"
"No matter how much she pretends otherwise, I know-"
"Oh, would you stop that?" Maciej snapped, "Leave her alone. She's not interested. In... either of us."
"You're jealous."
Maciej froze.
Marcin smirked. "You've been jealous ever since I started spending time with her. Since that Kupala night."
Maciej stared directly at Marcin, who knew he'd struck a nerve. Maciej's jaw tightened. "Don't flatter yourself."
"So I'm wrong?"
"Yes."
"Then why are you so angry?"
"I'm not angry."
"You look angry."
"Because I"m looking at you."
Even with the childish retort, the silence that followed said far more than either of them wanted to admit. Because Marcin wasn't entirely wrong. Maciej had been jealous. Not because Aniela belonged to Marcin. Not because he wanted to compete. But because watching her laugh with him so freely felt like losing before he'd ever had a chance.
And Maciej hated admitting that. Especially to himself. He shook his head again. Because why would a noblewoman ever want him?
So, he did what he always did when confronted with feelings he didn't want to examine. He picked up the hammer again.
"Go back to sleep."
"I knew it."
"I said go back to sleep."
"You're jealous."
"I am three seconds away from putting you back into that goddamn concussion coma."
Marcin grinned triumphantly. He intended to enjoy this small victory. Unfortunately, the grin required more energy than his injured body was willing to spare.
The room tilted, and his smile vanished instantly. He looked away, squeezing his eyes shut as a wave of nausea rolled through him. His stomach lurched. Before he could help himself, he doubled over towards the end of the bed.
Maciej was by his side before he could react, catching his shoulder with one hand, another steadying him. "Easy."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Marcin could feel the warmth of Maciej's hand through the thin material of his shirt. Wait... Had Maciej changed his shirt? The thought crossed his mind uninvited.
From this close, he could see flecks of green hidden in Maciej's eyes. Could hear his breathing, right beside him. Feel the heat radiating from him.
Far too close for his liking.
Marcin shook his hands off of him. "I don't need your help. Especially when you stink like a cow."
"I mean, we are in the countryside. There are cows outside."
Marcin mumbled, "there's one inside, too."
Maciej shook his head, smiling despite himself. He stepped back, returning to his workbench.
Marcin immediately missed the warmth.
He frowned at his own thought. What an absurd thing to think.
Maciej continued to work with the hammer. "I'm afraid you have to stay here until you can walk without falling over."
"I'm sorry?"
"You heard me."
"I am not staying here."
Maciej shrugged. "Alright. Leave."
Marcin relaxed slightly.
"Once you can stand."
Marcin furrowed his brows. "Excuse me?"
"You tried to sit up and nearly vomited everywhere."
"Well, it's not like it would've improved the smell-"
"You're concussed. Just stay here until you're okay. Believe me, I'm not enjoying this either."
Marcin sunk back into his pillow, pouting his lips. "Well. It's ridiculous."
"What now?"
"Me. Here. In a stable. I'm a nobleman!"
"Congratulations. I'm sure the nation of Poland can survive a week without you."
The silence returned.
Marcin hated how easily Maciej dismissed him. More than that, he hated that he couldn't get him to stop.
He found himself watching Maciej settle back into work. The steady movement of his hands. The concentration on his face. The way he occasionally brushed a loose strand of his hear away with the back of his wrist.
He had to admit, it was quite strange. He had spent so long thinking of Maciej as an obstacle, an annoyance. A peasant who had somehow convinced himself he was worthy of standing against him in the fight for Aniela.
And yet there he was. Taking care of him.
Marcin didn't know what to make of it. He turned his head towards the window. He told himself the strange feeling rising in his chest was gratitude. Even if he didn't want to admit that. It had to be.
After all, what else could it be?