Rotten Berry for My Sweet Bunny
The heavy door of Lohen’s quaint study didn’t so much open as it groaned under the weight of your utter exhaustion. You practically stomped inside, your uniform slightly disheveled, and dropped your clipboard onto the nearest table with a sharp, distuptive clack.
"If I have to explain the basic geometry of a defensive perimeter to one more recruit," you groaned, tossing yourself onto the chaise lounge and pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, "I am going to use their heads for target practice. I swear, they get dimmer with every year! One of them actually asked me if 'wind direction' mattered for a crossbow."
From across the room, Lohen didn’t look up immediately from his ledgers. The faint, rhythmic scratching of his quill was the only sound for a moment. He let you stew in your dramatic, albeit well-earned misery for a few beats before finally dipping his quill in ink and setting it down.
"I take it the afternoon drills did not yield a breakthrough," he murmured, his voice dry, carrying that familiar sarcasm.
"A breakthrough? They nearly broke through my sanity," you muttered, shifting so you were staring at the ceiling. "I just want to sit in a dark room and not look at a single trainee for the next forty-eight hours."
Lohen rose from his desk. His movements were entirely devoid of the frantic energy that currently consumed him. He walked over to a small, lacquered cabinet on the side wall, unlocked it with a tiny key kept in his breast pocket, and pulled something out.
He walked over to the lounge and stood over you, casting a long shadow.
"Open your eyes," he commanded softly.
You blinked, looking up at him with a faux-pout. Lohen was holding a single, plain, bright red lollipop. It was completely unremarkable, like the kind of cheap confectionery a street vendor in Shnezhnaya might sell for a single Mora. The vivid red translucent candy caught the candlelight, looking deceptively cheerful.
You stared at the sugary treat, a slow, incredulous smile breaking through your fatigue. "A lollipop? Seriously? What am I, five?"
"You're throwing a tantrum reminiscent of one," Lohen countered smoothly, though there was a faint, almost imperceptible twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips. "And sugar is known to placate the irritable. Take it."
You rolled your eyes but reached up, snagging the paper stick from his fingers. "Thanks."
While he stood watching, you popped the candy into your mouth. It was sweet, the taste of sunsettia and peaches filling your senses. It disrupted the bitter taste of a long, frustrating day. You leaned back against the cushions, letting the tension begin to drain from your shoulders. "Fine. It helps. A little bit."
"Good," Lohen said, watching you intently. He didn’t return to his desk, his eyes locked onto your face, analyzing every blink, every breath, and every so small micro-expression.
You didn't mind the scrutiny at first, too busy savoring the tart candy. But after a minute, as the outer layer of the candy began to dissolve, a sharp, metallic tang pierced through the taste. It was faint at first, then rapidly blossomed into a distinct, bitter burn at the back of your throat.
Your brow furrowed. You took the lollipop out of your mouth, frowning at it. "Lohen... what flavor is this? It tastes like..."
Before she could finish the sentence, a sudden, violent cramp gripped your stomach. You gasped, dropping the lollipop onto your lap as you instinctively curled inward, clutching your midsection. Your heart began to hammer against your ribs, a cold sweat instantly breaking out across your forehead. The air in your lungs felt thick and heavy, like you were inhaling wet wool.
"Lohen?" you choked out, your voice suddenly raspy. You looked up at him, panic flashing in your eyes, expecting him to have someone call for Barbara, to at least show some sign of alarm.
But Lohen just stood there. His expression was entirely placid.
"Aconite," he stated calmly, as if reading a weather report. "Wolfsbane. Does that maybe ring a bell? A refined extract embedded into the core of the confection. It affects the nervous system first, then the heart."
You stared at him, betrayal freezing the blood in your very veins even as the poison burned through it. You tried to push yourself up, but your limbs felt like lead.
"Why..." you whispered, your vision already blurring slightly at the edges. "Why would you..."
Lohen knelt beside the chaise, placing a cool, steady hand over your trembling fingers before gripping them. "You see, I have enemies. I'm sure you've noticed. People who know they can't strike at me directly. People who'll eventually realize that the easiest way to break my armor is to cut out my heart."
He squeezed your hand tenderly. It wasn't a threat directly, more so was it a promise.
"They'll try to use you. They'll try to poison your wine, your food, your breath. And I won't allow them the satisfaction of succeeding." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial containing a milky, amber liquid. "I spent a decade making my own blood a graveyard for toxins. And I've been starting yours, as well. 'Tis the antidote. It'll stop the respiratory failure, but it won't stop the pain."
You forced your eyes to lock with his. The agony in your abdomen was sharp and white-hot, but the sheer absurdity and terrifying loyalty of the man before you kept you somewhat anchored. He wasn't trying to kill you. He was trying to make you unkillable, to some extent.
"You... are an insane... bastard," you hissed through gritted teeth, your fingers tightening around his with near bruising force.
"Undoubtedly," Lohen agreed with a bright, boish smile. He uncorked the vial with the antidote and held it to your lips. "Drink. All of it. Tomorrow, we try a slightly higher dosage. In a few weeks time, you won't even need the antidote anymore."
You swallowed the bitter counter-agent, coughing as it fought the wolfsbane in your system. You leaned your head back, panting, the fire in your gut slowly settling into a dull, throbbing ache that made you arch in great discomfort.
Lohen picked up the fallen, half-dissolved red lollipop from your lap, wrapping it neatly back in its discarded paper, before throwing it away.
"Look at the bright side, my sweet thing," he murmured, standing up and heading back to his desk as if nothing had happened. "You're no longer thinking about your trainees."
