Guinevere's Grail | ✓ [BOOK 2]

~ 31 ~

a/n: this chapter contains a brief, vaguely described nsfw moment. i will put a warning before it happens and let you know when it's over should you be interested in skipping over it, though it is nowhere near explicit.

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"IT'S HERE," SERA TOLD him. "I promise it is. But we can't get it out until Chalice wakes up. No one else can breathe under water, you'll just have to give it time."

Despite the pain in his feet, Morgana paced back and forth. "We don't have time, Sera. I'll go get that Grail myself."

"Not with those lungs and that arm, you aren't," she told him, fixing him with that irritating glare. "Giselle is stable, the druids know what they're doing. The moment Chalice wakes up, we'll send them for the Grail and we'll figure out how to fix your friend, understand?"

Morgana clenched his jaw. He didn't like any of this. Every second without the a Grail was a second wasted, and his remedies could only do so much to treat Giselle when she was in the thick of the disease. Her skin was cracking already, and he could only pray it didn't ruin her like it ruined him. She deserved to be graceful, she deserved her able body. Morgana didn't mind his own anymore, it was all he knew, but Giselle had every right to run and jump and dance and heaven forbid he let this plague take that from her.

"Morgana?"

It was Kit. He spun around to find him standing there, turned halfway way from him like an idiot, eyes staring into nothing.

He grumbled under his breath and parted from Sera with a vicious side eye sent her way. "You should be sleeping, idiot."

Kit leaned into him the moment he took his muscular arm with his own mangled one. It had since gotten a little better, but it still hurt too much to try to use it or let it loose.

"I could say the same for you. If you're too stubborn to sleep, then so am I."

"If we weren't fighting for the same thing, I'd take this chance to kill you," Morgana murmured. "I hope you know that."

"Naturally," Kit said with a grin. "Where are we going?"

Truth be told, Morgana didn't know the answer to that. He wanted to get away from Sera and now he had his excuse. He was pulling Kit towards the small house they were staying in. No one was inside during the day unless they were sick, so it was quiet when he closed the door behind them.

"It's too loud out there," he said, lowering himself onto the bed. "And bright. I just want to sit by myself in the dark and I don't trust anyone else with you so you're stuck with me. Or I'm stuck with you."

Kit's mouth split open into a proud grin.

"No, absolutely not, don't even bloody start," Morgana said, pushing himself back up onto his feet. "That was not a compliment, you self-centered moron. You're just too stupid for anyone else to handle."

"No need to get defensive," Kit said, lifting up his hands to surrender to the wall next to Morgana. "You said it, not me."

He huffed, falling back down onto the creaky mattress again. "Whatever. I'm babysitting you, that's it. The minute Chalice is awake, I'm going back out there."

"But until then, you're just going to overthink every possible scenario and worry yourself sick, right?" Kit stepped away from the door, feeling his way around awkwardly until he found Morgana and gently lowered himself beside him. "I know you're doing it because I am, too."

Morgana swallowed. Kit was close enough, he could see the stubble returning to his face and the way each of his muscles moved under his skin. He could smell him, the vague oils from the baths the druids insisted they all take to spare their noses. His hair was still damp at the roots, messy in the best way. Oh, how he'd love to make it worse.