wounded
“Inigo, I’m fine,” she said, exasperated. He’d been careful to avoid saying anything on both the voyage home and the (slightly harrowing) carriage ride back to the monastery. That still didn’t prevent him from watching her for any signs of pain. She tried to hide her discomfort but he knew her tells too well. The narrowed eyes, the controlled inhale. And now, as they were disembarking from the carriage, her jaw tightened, blinking against the pain.
He was holding out a hand to help her out, hoping she didn’t notice his shaking fingers. Inigo adopted a mock offended expression. “Of course you are, my lady! A gentleman always helps a lady down.” He sighed and dropped the act. He was too tired to try hiding his concern any longer. “Seriously, Lucina. Leto did a number on you and I know you’re still hurting. I’ll walk with you to the infirmary.”
Speaking so boldly may earn him another punch to the nose, though it was worth it. If their roles were reversed, she’d be doing the same thing. Inigo gave her a lopsided smile. Why was it so hard to get her to take care of herself? Didn’t she understand that they would never recover from her loss? Maybe one day he’d be able to voice these thoughts aloud. For now, he resigned himself to keeping them locked away.
“I’m fine.” She insisted again, though this time he detected less conviction behind her voice.
“Lucina. Listen to me, please.” I can’t bear to see you in so much pain. “I ca—I can leave, if you want.”
Blood roared in his ears. Had he really almost said that? Gods, he must be more exhausted than he thought. But a good night’s rest could wait. If he didn’t drag her to the infirmary now, she’d never go.
starter for: @exalteye
