The third law [Terzo x Reader]

The equation of chaos

The morning sun timidly peeked through the thin curtains, occasionally offering a shy glimpse of the fields and trees surrounding the house. Cirice, with an encouraging smile, moved gracefully through the dusty rooms, opening windows and letting the light pour in. Terzo, seated in an armchair in the living room, stared into space with dull eyes, almost annoyed by the light that had slowly begun to fill the rooms.

The Ministry was not that bright. He was not used to hearing the birds sing in the morning instead of human murmurs and chants, nor was he used to waking up without a packed schedule of activities. He didn't know what to do with his time; he wasn't accustomed to using it solely for himself.

"Much better, isn't it?" said Cirice, opening another window. "The light here is wonderful and the air smells so sweet, don't you think? And look at that garden! Perfect for planting medicinal herbs. Just think about when Primo comes to visit you, he'll love it! You could do it together."

Terzo grunted in response, merely moving his eyes to look at her. Cirice had been trying for weeks to list all the wonderful things she saw in that place, never managing to convince him or even elicit a word of hope from him. She had come there every day, opening the windows and saying something she hoped would cheer him up, but the scene had repeated the same day after day.

"Medicinal herbs..." he repeated, almost mockingly, "is that what's left of me?"

Cirice approached him, kneeling beside the armchair and taking his hand. "What you've done will remain. You still have yourself, and you have me. This is just a new beginning. Just give it a chance."

Terzo sighed deeply. "And what if I don't want a new beginning?"

"To do what? Go back? To where they chewed you up and spat you out after everything you did for them?" Cirice looked into his eyes, determined. "You don't need that past. Time only marches forward." Then, she stood up and invited him to follow her. "Come, help me put your things away. You'll see, you'll feel better."

Terzo didn't get up. Only his gaze followed Cirice into his bedroom. She opened an old wooden wardrobe, its doors creaking with age. Inside, there was space for the few personal items he had brought with him, most of which were still packed in the large suitcases scattered on the floor that Terzo hadn't even moved.

She gently took out the uniform he had worn with pride on his last tour, another reason he had been so ill-regarded by the Clergy. She caressed it with her fingers, feeling the soft fabric under her fingertips. When she turned around, Terzo was standing, leaning against the door frame. His appearance, like hers, had deteriorated in such a short time; his hair was unkempt, and his features were weighed down by disappointment and defeat. He looked at the outfit with an unreadable expression.

"This deserves a special place," Cirice said, carefully hanging it in the wardrobe. Then she approached him, attempting to give him a caress that he seemed to avoid. "Don't forget who you were, but remember that you're still here." Once again, he didn't respond, and she sighed. "So, will you come help me put your things away?" she invited him again, turning back to his suitcases.

"No." he finally replied. Cirice, bent over the floor, turned to him. "You can go."

She stood up, surprised, but not entirely, by his request. "Let me help you. You don't have to do it alone. We're in this together," she tried, offering a small, encouraging smile.

His expression didn't change. "You can go," he repeated.

She seemed to reflect, lowering her gaze for a moment before nodding. "You're right, better for you to rest today." she said, her smile slowly fading, then returning as if to encourage herself. "We'll try again tomorrow, ok?"
Terzo sighed, almost annoyed. "You won't come here tomorrow."