Alchemical Love

111 - Spoon Feeding Varian Spicy Chicken Soup (and Apple Pie)

The magic of the Week of Hearts lingered in the air, a sweet aftertaste on Lashanie's tongue. Days had melted into each other, filled with stolen glances, shared laughter, and the comforting presence of Varian by her side. It felt like a new chapter had indeed begun, a chapter overflowing with the promise of happiness.

But fate, it seemed, had a penchant for throwing curveballs. On a crisp afternoon, the world tilted on its axis as Lashanie stumbled upon a scene that sent a jolt of fear through her.

There, in the bustling marketplace, stood Varian, his back towards her. Facing him was Noah, Lashanie's childhood nemesis and Varian's former tormentor. Noah, with his sneering grin and hulking physique, looked every bit the bully he had always been.

Lashanie's blood ran cold. Words flew between them, laced with anger and years of simmering resentment. She watched helplessly as Noah shoved Varian, sending him stumbling back. Before he could regain his footing, a sickening crack echoed through the air. Noah's fist had connected with Varian's temple.

Lashanie screamed, her voice a piercing cry that cut through the din of the marketplace. Time seemed to slow down as she sprinted towards them, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Varian crumpled to the ground, a crimson stain blooming on his temple. The sight of blood, a stark reminder of her own past trauma, sent a wave of dizziness washing over him. The world spun, colors leaching away, and then... darkness.

Lashanie reached Varian's side just as his eyes fluttered shut. Panic overwhelmed her. She knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she cradled his head. "Varian! Wake up!" she cried, tears blurring her vision.

The crowd, initially frozen in shock, sprang into action. A kind-faced woman rushed forward, her voice a flurry of medical expertise. Soon, a small group had gathered, shielding them from the curious onlookers.

Lashanie fought back a wave of nausea as she held Varian's hand, whispering reassurances that felt hollow in the face of his unconscious state. The weight of his hand in hers felt alarmingly light, a stark contrast to the warmth she had grown accustomed to.

Finally, a breathless guard pushed his way through the crowd. A quick assessment of the situation confirmed her worst fears – Varian had sustained a concussion. With a practiced efficiency, they carefully loaded him onto a stretcher, Lashanie clinging to his side like a lifeline.

The healers at the Royal Infirmary worked quickly and efficiently. Thankfully, the blow to his head, though concerning, wasn't life-threatening. As they cleaned and dressed his wound, Lashanie learned that Varian would have to remain under observation for a few days. His unconsciousness, the healers explained, was likely a combination of the head injury and his aversion to blood.

Lashanie stayed by his side throughout the ordeal, a silent vigil against the encroaching shadows of fear. When Varian finally stirred, his eyes unfocused and glazed, a wave of relief washed over her so intense it felt like physical pain.

"Lashanie?" he rasped, his voice weak.

"I'm here, Varian," she whispered, squeezing his hand. "Don't worry, you're safe now."

His gaze fluttered to his bandaged head, then back to her. A flicker of concern crossed his face. "Noah," he mumbled, his voice thick with confusion.

Understanding dawned upon her. "He's gone, Varian," she reassured him. "The guards took care of him."

Varian relaxed slightly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Then, a mischievous glint sparked in his eyes, even in his weakened state. "Looks like," he croaked, his voice hoarse, "my grand plan for impressing you backfired spectacularly."