𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ᵉ*ᵗᵐ

43 ┃ 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭

━ ⭑─⭒━

━ ⭒─⭑━

A week passed.

And in that week, you learned that bedrest was its own kind of punishment.

At first, there had been pain. Dull, deep aches that throbbed under the surface of every breath. Your side burned if you twisted too far, and your limbs trembled like they hadn't been used in years. But that passed quickly—at least, you thought it did. The healers insisted otherwise.

"Rest," they said, pressing gentle hands to your shoulders when you tried to sit up. "The gods gave you a second chance. Don't waste it by tearing yourself open again."

So you stayed.

Stayed and stared at the ceiling. Watched dust motes swirl in the light. Counted the cracks in the corner stone.

The walls became smaller with each passing day. The soft sheets, once a comfort, turned suffocating. The light from the window too warm. Too golden.

You weren't sure when the sun started annoying you, but it did.

Lady, bless her, was your one steady companion. She rarely left your side, curling along your hip or nudging your palm when your eyes turned too distant.

Sometimes, you whispered secrets into her fur when the silence got too loud. Rubbed her ears when the heaviness threatened to crawl back in. She'd tilt her head, tail flicking gently, like she understood every word, and it made you feel less alone.

The others visited when they could.

Callias, with gossip he'd recently picked up from the guards. Kieran, with a few sweets he'd swiped from the kitchen. Asta, full of gruff concern hidden beneath dry remarks, with a new book in hand for the two of you to read. Lysandra, soft-voiced and careful, like she was still afraid you might vanish again if she blinked too long.

Even the king and queen, dropping by to spend just enough time to have tea.

Telemachus hadn't come.

But you didn't ask.

You didn't want to know what might be keeping him.

You told yourself you were fine.

You were alive. That should've been enough.

Except... you were bored out of your mind.

Every heartbeat felt like a countdown. Every hour became a reminder that life continued out there—without you.

So when the healers finally cleared you to get up and stretch your legs, you didn't even wait for a full explanation. You swung your legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the stiffness in your knees, and muttered, "I've been fine since day three."