Awful Fever -The Arcana Muriel x Apprentice Fanfiction (Discontinued)

Part One: Shutting Down

When you care about someone long enough, you notice the patterns they live their life through. The way they walk, hold their head, or just move in general. They'll talk and act in a way that you can only describe as being themself. You can never find or describe the exact words but you know it's them when you see it. With all that in mind, it's only natural that you notice a shift, whether it be slow or sudden, that raises your concern.

It started small. Muriel started walking slower. He had heavier footsteps and he mostly held his head down. When he knew I was nearby he made an effort to make it seem like nothing was wrong, but I could see it, and I think he knew. He certainly couldn't hide it when it got worse. It would take all of his energy to do his routine. His hands would tremble when he'd reach out with a handful of feed for the chickens. I tried to convince him to rest, but he just wouldn't admit something was wrong.

Finally, whatever was ailing him had run him down. He had walked through the door of the hut only to collapse against the doorframe. A shot of panic ran through me, and through some miraculous hidden strength I had led him to the bed and laid him down. I can't even recall how I managed to do it, with his size compared to mine I thought I wouldn't have been able to get him up in the first place.

After that I ran as fast as I could to the river nearby, dipping a cloth in the cool water and managing to fill a canister with the stuff. When I came back, Inanna was scratching at the door, whining. Had Muriel left her out? I thought it only fair to let her in. She could be worried sick. Of course, no pun intended. When I open the door she bolts inside, whining and howling at Muriel on the bed trying to get him up. Her worry becomes mine as I witness no matter how loud she whined or how much she pawed at him, Muriel barely moved.

I nearly trip rushing over to the side of the bed. Muriel was sweating bullets. I raised my hand to his forehead. Fire. I pulled out the wet cloth, still ice cold from the river water. I shifted Muriel so he'd lay on his back and I place the cloth where my hand was and I slip off Muriel's cloak from his shoulders, I'm hoping doing this will cool him down. After I do both of these through, I draw a blank. I don't know what else to do. I shut down and sit on the floor, refusing to pull my eyes away from Muriel. I feel Inanna curl up against me and let out another low whine, but I can't turn to look at her. I study Muriel's breathing. From the way his chest rises each breath is ragged and heavy. My eyes start to water. My heartbeat is fast and loud. It's the only thing I can hear other than Muriel's breathing and the crackling of the fire.

The fire.

It's a warm summer night, so I rush over to the hearth. I put it out the same way Muriel did it when I stayed overnight, the way that reduced the smoke. The last thing Muriel needs right now is smoke. He's already breathing so hard, that or hardly breathing. I feel the temperature in the hut lower slowly. It isn't too long before the temperature of the hut matches the temperature outside. Who knows, it could be cooler.

I make my way over to the bed again. Muriel is sweating less, at least. However I notice he'll shudder once in a while. I'm conflicted. His head is still burning but he looks so cold. A fever, I tell myself. That's what happens when you get a fever.

I climb over Muriel carefully to sit beside him on the bed. I take his hand in mine and squeeze it gently. Inanna hops onto the end of the bed and curls up at Muriel's feet.

My eyes are glued open. The light in the hut is dim, the only source being a few candles on the small table on the other side of the room. It's late but I won't sleep. I can't sleep, but before I know it I blink and the room is lighter with daylight, Muriel's hand still in mine, only he's shifting.

He's awake?

I reach out and touch his head again. He's still warm, but not as much as last night. He must have slept some of it off. As my fingers brush his forehead I hear him let out a low groan. I'm relieved, but I'm incredibly angry with him. This whole thing never would have happened if he had just rested, just admitted he was sick in the first place.

I figure there's not much to be done and get up from the bed, walking over to the hearth. I realize I have no idea how I'm going to make breakfast. Muriel had always gotten up before me and I was the one to wake up with eggs already done. I had no idea how he cooked with this thing, if he even used it, at all. Now he can barely move and I'm standing here clueless, again.

I turn around towards Muriel, and I can't believe what I'm seeing. He's attempting to roll out of bed like everything's normal. I make an effort to snap myself out of my confusion and storm over. I press my palm against his shoulder and push him back onto the bed, which must be easy because he's so tired and can't do much to fight back. He rolls back onto the bed in a huff, frustrated, as if it is my fault he's stuck in bed.

"Really?" I say, trying to sound stern. I'm not good at it by any means and I'm already so worried about him, but I tap my foot to drive my point home. "You're seriously trying to get up? After what happened last night?"

Muriel grunts. He either can't manage a response or he's mad at me for trying to stop him from doing his chores. 

"Well in case you forgot," I start, "You got so sick you couldn't walk through the door."

Muriel doesn't respond, eyes still closed, but I know he's awake.

As I continue to speak I get louder, but my voice begins to waver. "I had to carry you to bed! I rushed to make sure you were okay! I thought..." I gulp and my lip quivers. "I thought you'd die..."

Silence. It's like that for a few moments. I shake the tears from my eyes and sit down at the table on the other side of the room. I can't take care of people. I'm terrible at taking care of people. I don't know the first thing about taking care of people. I put my head in my hands, my throat tightens with the urge to cry.

"I'm sorry."

I lift my head. Muriel's still laying in bed but he's facing me. My heart softens. He looks so awful. His eyes are darker than usual and sunken in. I get up and walk slowly over to the bed, placing my hand on Muriel's cheek.

"I forgive you," I sigh. "But you can't let yourself fall apart like this again. You need to take better care of yourself, and ask when you need help. We could've caught this when it wasn't so bad."

Muriel places his hand over mine. It's still trembling. He's so weak. "I'm sorry." He repeats, and squeezes my hand gently. I relax a little and smile. He's stable, at least.

"Think you can tell me how you make breakfast?" I ask.

Muriel's eyes widen. "I can--"

"Nope," I cut him off. "What did I just say? You just tell me how to do it, and don't move a muscle."

Muriel lets out a long sigh. "Fine," he mutters.

I get up and head to the hearth but not before I turn around and put on my stern voice again. "And I mean it," I say. "If I catch you getting out of bed again, you'll have more than just a fever to worry about."

Muriel chuckles. "Okay, okay."

I grin. "Good. While you're getting better, I'm the man of the house, now."

Muriel laughs weakly but deep down I'm serious. Besides, a couple chores can't be too hard, can they?