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"Let's see..." The Sovereign began to skim through the missives that had been delivered this morning, their eyes never bothering to address the knights as they began their delegations. "Lady Brunhilda and Zolta will deal with the skeletons haunting Anveld, Lady Ligia will help free a cow from the mayor of Milkford's private pool, and Sir Rufus and Sir Oliver will track down an invasion of snakes in the undergrowth of Clovermont." They set the letters down upon the round table before clasping their hands together. "I believe this should be the best course of action, given our circumstances, but please feel free to express any concerns that you may have. Otherwise, you're free to leave."
The afternoon sun shone a brilliant glow through the stained glass windows of the congregation room as the knights murmured in excitement to one another — primarily Brunhilda and Zolta as they began to formulate a shocking surprise that shall inflame the skeletons in their wake, whereas Ligia, visibly pleased with her quest given her serene smile, followed them to the stables in preparation for their exciting journeys ahead. Rufus felt no different, of course. Being bestowed the privilege of a fruitful hunt by His Majesty after partaking in various diplomatic missions (some of which he barely succeeded in) stirred such jubilation in his beating heart that he could grovel and kiss the very tip of their foot in front of everyone without hesitation.
Alas, not only had the Sovereign already established boundaries from the moment Rufus had first arrived at the Tower (a rather strange decree for their first meeting, yet they surely knew what's best for him), his affections had instead been stolen by another. Whenever around a certain knight of his devotion, a tremendous feeling of joy would always threaten to burst from within him — something that he couldn't suppress no matter how hard he tried. His metamorphosis from the wild Beast — a creature of unrestrained freedom tainted by the blood of his slaughtered prey — to a puppy bursting with immeasurable adoration was certainly to blame for such peculiar affectivity.
Yet, even if he had more or less adjusted to such a drastic change by now, Rufus still couldn't pinpoint the exact reason for why such unprecedented emotions arose from even the mere thought of him, let alone where they had originated from. Was it perhaps his (unintentional) discovery of them sharing the same favorite meals during suppertime? A merchant quest gone terribly wrong in which he had to free him from being tied to a pole in the middle of Shellington? The subtle yet tender caresses that they had shared amidst the quietude of the courtyard? Rufus blushed just from thinking about the way the other, despite his bashfulness, had intertwined their hands together, a soft whisper professing nothing else but his wish to stay by his side.
If only what he had proclaimed was still true.
"That's such a treat, Your Majesty! Thank you so much!" With his (figurative) tail wagging to and fro, Rufus beamed at the Sovereign. "I promise that we won't disappoint you. Sir Oliver, would you be okay in accompanying…me…?"
As soon he turned his gaze towards the other knight in question, Rufus's smile faded upon sensing Oliver's fidgeting— the latter's eyes refusing to meet his own as he began to stammer.
"U-Uh… Boss, would it be feasible if you could assign me to another task?"
The Sovereign sighed. "I'm aware that you prefer not to hunt, but there are no other quests available for you—."
"I-It's not just that. I believe it would be quite counterproductive of me to be with Sir Rufus at the moment. I suppose that you could call it an…interpersonal conflict of interests." Oliver's voice dropped upon uttering the last statement, his perspiration worsening.
Palming their face with the utmost exasperation, the Sovereign exhaled an even longer sigh. "Gods above help me… Very well, then. You will train with Sir Sagadin for this cycle. Sir Rufus will instead handle the rat extermination in Chavignol." They turned to Rufus. "This should suffice for you, yes?"
"…Of course, Your Majesty."
Despite his words, a soft whine escaped from Rufus. As much as his heart desperately wished for otherwise, he no longer could stand to be with Oliver lest a twinge of remorse should fester within him. Given the latter's utter discomfort, it would be a selfish attempt to reconciliate, let alone approach him. Reminiscence, therefore, would be a most feasible crutch for him to lean on despite its transience.
Yet, as he trudged towards the exit with his head hanging low, not once did Rufus glance behind him; he would have surely met Oliver's gaze otherwise.
"This isn't working…"
Rufus had promptly leaned back from their kiss upon hearing Oliver's words. Situated in the former's quarters as moonlight shone through its window, he had hoped that — after a rather humiliating quest involving the other's helmet being pooped on by a bat in a Grestian bakery — he could help cheer him up with physical affection.
At least, that had always seemed to work in the past.
Tilting his head a bit, Rufus had assessed the other's visage and body language: an anxious avoidance in eye contact; a slightly stiffened posture upon being near his presence (let alone from being kissed by him); a faint tapping of his foot against the floor.
He had previously thought it a bit strange (albeit inconsequential) when Oliver began distancing himself a few cycles ago; perhaps he had been busy studying sorcery as part of his technical research and didn't wish to be distracted. Yet, as time had continued to pass, his affections for Rufus had begun to gradually decline to the point of him being too preoccupied to spend even a single moment with him.
"Sorry, I promised Lady Edith that I'll meet with her at the library tomorrow."
"I-I can't. I have heaps of paperwork due tonight."
"I would, but Sir Gideon had already asked me to proofread his manuscript. It's quite an…exhilarating read."
As peculiar as it had felt at the time, Rufus' heart had nevertheless skipped a beat when Oliver had requested to meet with him in his quarters tonight. Utterly convinced that the latter had wished to make up for lost time, the former wolf, in his delight, had thus failed to recognize the solemnity in his voice — exacerbated by both his stuttering and perspiring state. Perhaps it was his denial of the truth — or rather his desperation to prolong their relationship despite its deterioration — that had led to him agreeing to their rendezvous with the utmost enthusiasm.
In retrospect, an imprudent decision on his part.
"What's not working?" Rufus had asked, his hand settled on top of the mattress. If only it had been a small patch of grass instead, then he would have certainly plucked it apart amidst his disquietude.
"This. What we have going on…" As though finally mustering the courage to look at Rufus in the eye, Oliver had soon hesitated before continuing. "I-I… I believe it would be in our best interests to distance ourselves from each other."
"Oliver…" Rufus' lips had trembled as his claws (accidentally) punctured through the mattress, later retracting his hand away. "I'm aware that there are still some…indelible traces left over from my time as the Beast. But, if that's truly the cause for concern, then, for you, I shall attempt to control my urges more thoroughly from now on—"
"That's not it— I-I mean, I don't exactly mind whenever you chase chickens nor bark happily, but…" Oliver's voice had trailed off into a whisper. "…Aren't you tired of devoting yourself to us? To me?"
If he had still retained his former demeanor, Rufus would perhaps have felt greatly offended by such a silly question and thus resort to remarking a few unpleasantries. Instead, he had let out a small whine, his eyes already tearing up. "Of course not! Why would I be? I have felt nothing else but this immense joy that stirs within the depths of my belly whenever I'm in your presence. If Our Majesty permits, I've always looked forward to venturing out to quests with you. I…" A slight pause. "I must admit, your absences these past cycles had terrified me. To such a great degree, in fact, that I had not the faintest clue in knowing what to do with myself. I'm not sure if I could even live without being by your side." He had reached a pleading hand towards Oliver's. "So, please, grant me mercy and let me stay with you."
A swift retraction. "…I-I'm so sorry, Rufus. I can't. We're just not good for each other."
With that declaration lingering in the air, Oliver had thus hurried towards the doorway without taking even a single glance behind him. Perhaps he had been too afraid to see the shuddering mess that had befallen Rufus, who could do nothing else but stifle his sniveling in vain. Or, rather, he had felt too ashamed of himself for how he had approached the termination of their relationship, guilt already permeating in his mind as he closed the door behind him.
Whatever the reason, it had not mattered much to Rufus as, amidst his sorrow, he could hear — with perfect distinction — faint, choked whimpers from yonder away from his quarters that seemed to gradually dwindle until nothing else but his own sniffles could be heard upon their departure.
Reminiscence had proven itself to be a most defective crutch, especially when one is bound to encounter their past love, regardless of whether it's intentional.
Two cycles had already passed since their last interaction together. Excluding the Round Table and the dining hall, both of which he expected to congregate with his fellow knights, Rufus would often catch glimpses of Oliver within the confines of the Tower — whether it be in the library, the training grounds, or even the hallways themselves. He didn't mean to follow him around, of course, nor did he wish to. The little puppy that still reigned supreme in his heart must have yearned for even the mere sight of him, even when it tormented him so.
Was Rufus truly masochistic enough to further wallow himself beneath the murky pool of his heartbreak? Although his adoration for Oliver remained unchanged, his organs had recently begun to twist into convoluted knots — acid gradually rising from the pits of his stomach — from even the mere thought of him. Yet, simultaneously, whenever they would share even the briefest of glances, Rufus' heart would always explode into a million pieces, and, for a moment, he could forget about his anguish with a bright smile on his face. As if nothing ever happened between them.
It's sickening, yet he couldn't savor enough of it.
His mind induced by restlessness (a recurrent phenomenon these past few days), Rufus now strolled through the gardens of the Tower at midnight — the stars in fervent bloom against the obsidian sky as moonlight illuminated the courtyard with a heavenly glow. The flowing stream nearby, accompanied by his quiet footsteps against lush grass, helped soothe his nerves. However, despite the tranquility that he (desperately) sought for, his thoughts continued to run rampant with each passing minute.
We're just not good for each other.
Rufus winced. Even now, he still couldn't understand why Oliver would say such a cruel falsity. They had both loved each other dearly, right? Shouldn't that be the only element necessary to constitute a healthy relationship, even when it means forgoing one's entire selfhood? He had never before dared to question his utter devotion to him, as unprecedented as it was. After all, it felt reasonable — expected of him, even — to sacrifice his being for the one he had cherished. But, perhaps Oliver was right in his judgment; maybe their relationship had never been entirely healthy to begin with—
The faint aroma of sage and lemon balm interrupted Rufus' rumination as he now approached one of the secluded corners of the courtyard. Huddled on the stone bench — settled between flowerbeds of begonias and pink camellias — was Oliver as he held a reed pipe between shaky fingers and with slightly ragged breaths. It broke Rufus' heart to witness him in such a vulnerable, miserable state, especially when the last time he had smoked was prior to them dating each other. Yet, given their current status, he knew it would be best to leave him alone, despite his longing to console him.
"Sir Rufus?"
In his attempt to walk away, the rustle of grass beneath Rufus' foot must have alerted Oliver of his presence as the former's ears immediately perked up upon hearing his weary voice. Although his inner voice cautioned him to remain vigilant towards the other's boundaries, elation from being acknowledged nevertheless overwhelmed his heart as he took a step forward towards him.
"Sir Oliver!" Having turned his immediate attention towards Oliver, realizing the abrupt excitement in his voice, Rufus soon hastened himself to lower its volume — his cheeks now aflush. "Oh, please forgive me. What are you doing out here this late at night? Have you allowed agitation to consume your mind as well?"
"Y-Yes, maybe…?" Oliver took a quick puff before continuing, his grip on the pipe tightening. "W-Well, to be a bit more specific, I only came out here because I couldn't sleep. It's my trembling, you see? N-No matter what I do, it just wouldn't stop. E-Even smoking doesn't help much these days." He let out a shaky breath, the last of the pipe's embers fading away. "It's pathetic, isn't it? I haven't trembled this much since…"
"Do you wish for me to…?"
"Please."
As soon as he permitted himself to sit next to him, Rufus (after asking for his permission once more) hugged Oliver with as much of a tightness as he believed himself to be deserving of — not too much to allow himself to savor the other's essence in its perfection yet not too little to be totally deprived of his touch. Delicate sage wafted between them in their close proximity, the latter's breathing stabilizing in his presence. Yet, as Rufus continued to prolong the hug, his muscles gently encasing the other's wiry physique, the inner voice that he initially attempted to tune out — cautioning him to release his grasp lest he becomes too attached to him once more — gradually intensified in volume and urgency until he could no longer stand to ignore it anymore.
"Sir Oliver, I believe there is something that I must discuss with you. I—"
Rufus' cheeks now blushed further once he felt Oliver nuzzling into his neck, soft snores escaping him as his arms clung to the other's waist as though refusing to let go. Whatever little resolve that the former had left simply vanished, for it would be cruel of him to rescind the remainder of the latter's comfort, to leave him succumbed to his trembling in his utter lonesome until the sun's predetermined arrival.
As such, with no other choice but to comply, Rufus remained in place until he, too, fell asleep in their embrace together.