Chapter Text
Olruggio was definitely coming down with something. He didn’t have to come down for breakfast for it to be obvious; Qifrey had heard him coughing up a storm all night. With the cold sweeping the Great Hall as of late, it had only been a matter of time before one of them fell ill.
Bursting in through the silent morning, Coco was the first downstairs, today with a spring in her step that told Qifrey she’d finally managed a good night’s sleep. She wrinkled her nose upon entering. “Erbe tea?” she said, moving past the table to peer into the cup Qifrey had just poured. “Is someone sick?”
So, she hadn’t heard that last night. Qifrey hoped everyone else had slept through it, truly. What a terrible sound. “I believe Olly may be coming down with something, but not to fret. I’m sure he’ll be right as rain after some tea and a warm breakfast.”
“Master Olruggio?” Coco said, concern pinching her face. “Well, I guess it was raining yesterday. I know! I can bring the tea to him so you can focus on breakfast.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Qifrey said, touched. “But, if you don’t mind, could you slice some of that fruit I set out? I’ll be back in a short moment.”
With Coco set on a new task, Qifrey gingerly carried the cup of erbe tea to Olruggio’s closed door. Ignoring the sign, he knocked, switching the cup to his other hand as his first began to sting with the heat.
To Qifrey’s surprise, the door opened in a few short moments, but as soon as it did, Olruggio took several steps away. “You’ll want to stay back,” he said gruffly. “I think I’m coming down with something. Don’t want you catching it and all.”
It was unusual enough to see Olly awake this early in the morning when he hadn’t been kept awake all night by an impending deadline, which had Qifrey momentarily concerned Olly was on another tight deadline he was unaware of. But no, Olruggio was dressed for sleep, wide awake, and had not come downstairs for breakfast. Was he truly feeling that unwell?
Qifrey’s eyes traced Olruggio’s form for any visible signs of malady. He certainly didn’t look well, but did he ever? Perhaps he was more slouched than usual, the shadows under his eyes just a touch darker, his skin ever so slightly sallower …
Concern pushed Qifrey through the door. “I brought tea,” he said and set it on Olruggio’s desk, flexing his stinging hand. “Is it just a cough, or …”
Still not coming any closer, Olruggio shook his head. “I’ve been strangely tired for days now, and I came down with a cough last night. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be concerned, but—”
“I suppose there was that terrible cold going around when we last visited the Great Hall,” Qifrey finished. “I’ll bring you breakfast in a moment. Do let me know if it gets worse.”
And get worse it did.
It was halfway through the next day that Olruggio set off for the Medical Spire alone, and Qifrey halted lessons for the day barely two clock marks later. For reasons unknown to him, he found himself increasingly anxious about Olruggio’s health as his absence drew on for longer and longer. What should have been a quick hop into the Spire and out was taking forever. The girls could tell he was unsettled, but he didn’t have any convincing answers to give them. “I’ll sleep more tonight, promise,” he would say, and he wasn’t tired, and they all knew that wasn’t the problem. Too perceptive for their own good, those girls.
A day of independent study wouldn’t hurt too much, Qifrey surmised. If he couldn’t make himself useful teaching, he could at least busy himself in the kitchen. Olruggio’s appetite was, thankfully, still intact despite the coughing and newfound chest pain. No doubt he’d be hungry with his body trying to fight off this illness, and the girls would need to stay well fed if they wanted to avoid coming down with it too.
Truth was, Qifrey didn’t know what had disturbed him so. Olly fell ill often enough, what with his horrid lack of regard for his own body. He had no fever, nausea, chills, or aches—just fatigue, a cough, and a sharp, alarming chest pain. It was unfamiliar, that was what it was, and Qifrey had already been anxious enough, what with his apprentices to look after and his own personal issues. After Olly came back with advice and perhaps even medicine, Qifrey’s heart could be put at ease just enough to float through the dread.
Cooking, at least, calmed the mind in ways rivaled by no other. Once tonight’s dinner was done, Qifrey moved on to some snacks for Olly and the girls, then onto a midday meal for tomorrow—perhaps they could hold their lessons outside, as an apology for today. The weather had been so kind to them lately.
“Smells good,” came a familiar voice, and Qifrey nearly jumped at the sight of Olruggio crossing the room. He looked out of sorts, and he held a small satchel clutched in his hand, likely medicine. Qifrey didn’t miss that look in his eyes that meant he was feeling something, something significant—enough so that Qifrey readied himself to calm or comfort Olruggio, but then nothing came.
Despite everything, something wound very tight in Qifrey’s chest loosened. “Olly,” he said, a tad weaker than he would’ve liked. “Are you hungry? I prepared food.”
“A lot of it,” Olruggio agreed gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I could eat.”
Qifrey only then processed just how much he had cooked during his wait, and he didn’t even have enough peace of mind to be flustered about it. There was silence for a few moments, save for the sound of him loading a plate full of little snacks and treats he’d managed to put together. The longer it lasted, the heavier it became, and Qifrey’s mind could only spiral down the list of possible conditions for Olruggio to come down with.
As Olruggio ate, Qifrey sat down across from him. “I suppose you’re not contagious if you’re here in front of me,” he said eventually. “Either that or it’s nothing to worry about.”
Olruggio took a long moment to respond. “Both, but mostly the former. Got some medicine that’ll help, so you can stop worrying.” After he said it, a strange look crossed his face.
Oh, Olly. He’d never been particularly good at lying. He was perfectly adept at withholding the truth, but lies were another story. Apparently, Qifrey had every reason to worry.
Well, either that or he was reading way too far into a minor ailment that Olruggio would put behind him with a bit of rest and tea, and that look on his face was just discomfort caused by the illness itself. It was hard to know, these days.
While Olruggio finished his food, Qifrey continued to bustle around in the kitchen, no less unsettled than before. Eventually, after he finished, Olruggio sought to help out, and he didn’t heed any of Qifrey’s requests for him to please go lie down and rest. With a tightening of his lips, he simply pushed through any opposition and went straight to stirring the warming pot of stew while Qifrey kneaded bread dough.
Something about this was so very unlike him, Qifrey decided, but perhaps he was just that tired. After a good night’s sleep and some medicine, Olruggio would be right as rain. He’d said it to Coco himself.
And even yet, a few other things were out of place—when Olruggio needed to ask a question, he would stand just one step closer to Qifrey than was necessary. He made no effort to avoid brushing his hand against Qifrey’s as he reached across for the spices. Any coughs were brushed off with zero complaint in favor of looking at Qifrey with those eyes, and he could’ve sworn they were trying to tell him something.
Qifrey had a sinking feeling he knew what was coming. But why now of all times, and why so suddenly?
This wouldn’t be the first time Olruggio had sought the truth in the form of a love confession.
Olruggio didn’t seek Qifrey out to talk as soon as he’d expected, perhaps due to his illness. He supposed it should’ve been a good thing—one more memory erasure behind him was a step toward the next, and yet another mark on his list of sins. Still, was it not better for his heart to just get it over with?
Instead, when he felt well enough to be up and about, Olruggio continued to press further and further, daring an intimate touch here and a long, unbroken glance there, enough to have Qifrey spluttering and his heart thundering in equal parts panic and excitement. It was impressive how persistent he was despite what ailed him. Qifrey wondered just how long Olly was willing to keep this up this time, and if something was keeping him from just asking like he normally did.
Qifrey, please, for once. Can’t you see how much I care about you?
Qifrey, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Why won’t you just talk to me?
Qifrey, I really love you, you know?
And Qifrey found himself wishing—distantly, hopelessly—that he could manage to return Olruggio’s love, but he couldn’t even do that. The first time Olruggio had come to him with a love confession instead of a demand for the truth, Qifrey had done his best, but he’d been unable to reciprocate the feelings outwardly, and had thus told Olruggio everything. It had been less painful to tell Olruggio the truth and erase his memory of the whole conversation than to lie and tell him his feelings weren’t matched. Perhaps Qifrey had grown too comfortable with the whole thing, to use it as an out in such a way.
Feeling sick to his stomach, Qifrey pinned the button on his hat back in place and stuck it on his head. It was no use dwelling on any of this right now. Olruggio was still under the weather, so Qifrey’s mind was best set on that. The girls had already gone to bed for the night, but Qifrey hadn’t yet brought Olruggio his evening meal, and had instead wandered outside, hoping the never-ending expanse of the sky could swallow some of the heavy weight in his mind.
Back inside, Qifrey caught sight of a tuft of brown hair making its way around the bend into the stairwell. “Agott,” he called, voice just loud enough for her to hear. “What are you doing out of bed this late?”
Agott turned with one foot on a higher stair than the other, holding a book in her hands. It took her a moment too long to respond, and her eyes darted away for a moment before she did so. “I’ve been practicing,” she said carefully. “I’m off to bed now, of course.”
Qifrey elected not to call her out on the obvious lie, though her evasiveness was so familiar it made his heart swell with fond memories. He could leave her to the odd rule-breaking, he figured, and his concern was better reserved for if she made a pattern of it. “Good night, Agott, and tell it to Coco as well.”
With a furious blush that she entirely ignored, Agott turned at her heel and headed upstairs. Qifrey laughed fondly to himself.
Now, to get Olly’s food. Thankfully, he’d kept tonight’s meal fairly light and uncontroversial. He knew this was the sort of meal Olruggio would normally want served with a healthy sprinkling of kindlecorn on top, but Qifrey thought the subtle spice might further irritate his throat and lungs, so he kept it simple.
This time, when he knocked on Olruggio’s door, there was no response. He waited a few moments, knocked again, then called, “Food’s outside your door!”
He lingered long enough to hear a muffled, sleep-addled, “Thanks.”
Well, at least Olruggio was still breathing and conscious. It couldn't have been too bad. Still, he’d been locked in his room for half the day already, always with the excuse that he was feeling too unwell to see the others. It would've put Qifrey much more at ease if he were to be unwell with Qifrey rather than away from him, but he supposed he deserved this treatment after a lifetime of hiding behind closed doors himself.
Qifrey flexed his fingers at his side as a shudder ran through him. He’d best get to bed. In a way, he was lucky that Olruggio had fallen ill now of all times—it had clearly put a wrench in his spiraling intentions with Qifrey, that much was for certain. So, Qifrey should take advantage of it and get some rest while he was still able without the stress keeping him awake.
What a terrible thought.
Guilt twisted in his stomach, and he took one more moment at Olruggio’s door before turning around. He’d check on Agott and Coco before heading off to sleep himself, just to make sure they were properly settled in after whatever they’d gotten up to.
Voices stopped him before he could even reach the door to their shared study room, which was ajar a crack. He peered in through the gap and observed Coco drawing at her desk with Agott crouched behind her, gesturing pointedly at something on the paper.
Coco’s voice was louder than Agott’s, and Qifrey could make out more of the specific words. “—right? We should probably ask Master Qifrey, now that I think about it …”
Agott mumbled something noncommittal in response, then turned to leaf through a book she’d set on the floor in front of her.
After a moment, Coco continued, “But Master Qifrey has seemed so stressed lately. It’s better if we can manage this ourselves, I think. And we can do it! We just need, um …”
Qifrey could just make out Agott’s next words. She said, “It’s his job to teach us. We can ask him in the morning.”
Letting out a small sigh of relief, Qifrey began to creep away from the door. Leave it to Coco to make Agott the voice of reason. At least they seemed to be hitting a roadblock, and whatever “problem” they had was clearly more of a project than an urgent issue.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Coco said, her voice drifting into the dark hallway as Qifrey walked to his own room.
Through his bedroom wall, he could hear Olruggio’s every cough, and he was very tempted to dress again and put himself in Olruggio’s room whether he was welcome or not. Instead, he tamed his impulses and undressed, slipping into bed with anxiety thrumming hot beneath his skin. Something was very, very wrong, and he allowed himself to relish the feeling, a soothing balm on his aches.
Qifrey did not manage to fall asleep until the early hours of the morning.
Tetia and Richeh made their way downstairs before Qifrey was even done preparing breakfast, and he cursed himself inwardly for how late he’d woken up. Normally, he’d rise with the sun, but today he’d just flipped over and buried his face in his pillow. He had no time to be sleeping in, what with the girls hurtling toward their third test.
Apologetic, he served them cut fruit while they waited. It wasn’t long before Coco and Agott were downstairs as well, yawning and stretching like they’d only just rolled out of bed.
“Agott too? Now you’re both going to become like Master Olly,” Tetia said brightly while popping a willowgrape in her mouth.
“We’ll get more sleep tonight,” Agott responded dryly. She lowered herself to her own spot.
“If you don’t sleep, you won’t learn properly,” Qifrey reminded them. He lifted the stirring spoon from the pot of sauce he was stirring and tested it with his finger. It seemed thick enough now, and—he tasted it—sweet enough too. Finally, breakfast was served.
While the girls finally ate their complete meal, Qifrey busied himself making a pot of marktea while nibbling on some food himself. Olruggio would probably want tea with his breakfast, though Qifrey would avoid the usual thornbark tea this time in favor of something less intense that everyone could share.
“Master Qifrey,” Coco interrupted, darting to her feet as Qifrey was about to take breakfast up to Olruggio’s room. “Agott and I made a thing!” Her hands hurried down to her pouch, where she pulled out a little wooden token with a spell carved into it. Qifrey didn’t get a chance to look closer before she explained, “We wanted to think of something to maybe help with Master Olly’s sore throat, so maybe he’ll feel better faster. I thought honey is always nice in tea when you’re sick, but also you don’t want to burn your throat and cold might be soothing. So we combined some of our ideas.”
“How did you get it on the wood so nicely?” Qifrey asked, genuinely curious. “Those don’t look like the markings of a woodcruor wand.” There were other ways to carve spells into wood, but most of them required specialized tools, such as those Olruggio used. As far as Qifrey knew, his apprentices only had the basics.
“I etched the spell in with a knife first,” Agott explained, “then we traced the divots to fill them with ink, which we’d mixed with roaming scallop shell powder.”
Qifrey hummed in approval, taking the seal from Coco to hold it closer to his eye. At this time of day, the sunlight came in through the window directly enough that Qifrey had to squint a bit to make out any proper details around him. It looked good enough, but he would have to test it on his own tea first to make sure it didn’t make anything unpalatable or simply dangerous.
“I’m sure Olly will be grateful,” he said, dropping it in his own cup. “I’ll take it up to him right now. You all can get started for the day once you’re done eating, and I’ll clean up.”
With Coco and Agott’s seal, the tea hit oddly, to say the least. As anticipated, it went down his throat cool and warm at the same time, and it seemed almost thicker, as if it had been heated with a starch. The seal held its shape without smudging when he removed it from the tea. Qifrey couldn’t decide if he liked it or not, but it seemed safe enough, so that was only Olruggio’s decision to make.
After scrawling a quick note about the effects of the seal, rapped his knuckles against the door a few times, and when he received no response, he opened the door himself. “Olly?” he murmured, loud enough to be heard by conscious ears but not enough to disturb asleep ones.
No response. With the curtains shut, the room was entirely dark, enough so that Qifrey’s eye struggled to peel through the black, but he could make out Olruggio’s vague shape beneath the bedcovers. He crept over to the bedside table and brushed something aside so he could set the tea and breakfast down, and his fingers came back wet.
Huh—that was strange. Rubbing his dampened fingers together, he squinted at the object in the darkness. It was small, and he couldn’t otherwise make out any details. Whatever it was, he hoped Olruggio would remember to throw it out soon so the wooden surface below it wouldn’t grow damp and moldy.
Qifrey was quick to leave the room and equally silent. Olruggio needed his rest to recover properly, he’d said. He’d even entered a brief hiatus on his magic commissions, which only served to worsen Qifrey’s anxieties. If this were just a flu or even pneumonia, he doubted Olruggio would plan out a genuine break like that, and would instead opt to return as soon as he was able. Right?
But Olly would be fine. He would have to be.
When Qifrey bent to collect the girls’ empty dishes from the table, a flash of color caught his eye. He paused, nearly dropping the plates before he hurried to set them down, and held his hands up in front of him.
The fingers of his left hand, where he had thought he’d touched water, were painted a stark red.