#AUGHH. hrg. arugh.

[damienthepious]

i still hate this fucking editor. Also short chapters will be the vibe for this fic i think, until the exact moment that's not true anymore. whateverrrrr.

raised by wolves

[ch 1] [ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationships: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Rilla, Sir Damien, Lord Arum, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin' Tuesday, Established Relationship, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Werewolf!Rilla specifically, Secrets, (look i think rilla deserves to have some angsst explored for once), (uhhhh god there have GOT to be more tags uhh. i don't know i'll add more later), (In later chapters there will be), Implied/Referenced Harm to Children, Implied/Referenced Violence, Mild Injury

Summary: Rilla is keeping secrets.

Chapter Summary: Half-truths and avoidance are the order of the day.

~

Rilla doesn't actually remember a time before the wolf.

Her parents told her that it - contracting the condition - happened when she was very young. She doesn't remember that, either, not really. She maybe-sorta remembers... something about fireflies, being afraid, pain, but that could just as easily be a fabricated memory from the stories that her fathers told her afterward. No guarantee it actually happened that way. Not that it matters. The scar on her wrist and the condition itself are enough.

It's just... something that is. Something she has to deal with.

Something she has to deal with alone.

Which is becoming, annoyingly, more difficult.

~

"-decided that I might accompany you," Rilla tunes in enough to hear, and she almost hurts her neck turning towards the monster as he aggressively prunes back a creeping thorny plant, a monster variant of purple barberry (that, according to Arum, enjoys the "enrichment" of pruning). "Gather some samples of my own, for the greenhouse."

"I can just get them for you," Rilla says, too sharp and too quick, and Arum looks up from his shears. The plant flicks a vine, catching one of Arum's gloves and his attention again. "You don't have to bother."

"It isn't a bother to-" Arum hesitates, wrinkling his snout as he lunges forward, clipping off a substantial barbed arm that had been trying to sweep around to prick him from the side. "It isn't a bother to- to spend- time with you," he finishes, his pauses not really aligning with his motions. She imagines that the words might have been hard to get out for some other reason. "I- when you're gone, it... I..."

"It's just a couple days," Rilla shrugs, trying to decide if leaving the greenhouse entirely might be a viable strategy for ending this line of thinking. Teasing first, she decides. That usually throws the monster off. "Careful, or you're going to start to sound like Damien."

Arum frowns. "Damien misses you."

Well there isn't much of anything Rilla can do about that, is there? She shrugs. "It's only three days. I know he doesn't like it, but- I mean frankly, considering the trips he used to take for his missions, he really can't complain about three days."

The only bad part about Damien taking a sabbatical from knighthood while he figures some stuff out about himself. He barely travels, now, and he's smart, and she has a gnawing worry at the pit of her stomach that it's only a matter of time before he or Arum or the both of them notice that there's a-

"It's an interesting schedule," Arum says, still frowning, flicking his wrist to parry a sullen little lash from the plant with his shears. "Three days every month, yes?"

Pattern. Rilla swallows. "Yeah," she says with another shrug. Was that weird? Two shrugs that close together? "I figured- I do know it bothers Damien when I'm gone, so limiting myself to three days out of a month for my herb collection seemed like a good compromise."

"Hm," Arum says, and then he makes one more maneuver with his hands, clipping a fair chunk from the plant. He makes a noise at the back of his throat, then, his lip curling in obvious satisfaction, and he nods as he steps backward, apparently finished with the chore. The vine reaches after him for a moment, but its motions are more worn out, and it settles pretty quickly. Arum sets his shears on a nearby log, rolls his shoulders, and then tips his head to give Rilla a look. It's- hesitant, maybe? "It... could go faster than three days," he suggests.

Rilla scowls. "I'm not going to rush my methods just-"

"With help," he finishes, and Rilla stops short. "If I helped you. It would go faster. You could come ho-" he inhales oddly, his voice catching on a lingering rattle, and then he tries again. "Come back. Quicker. If I came and helped you."

Rilla stares at him for a moment, watching the way he fidgets as she tries to think-

If she wasn't lying, if these trips had nothing to do with the wolf-

What would she say, right now?

(She can't use her experimental medicine again. She's working on a different batch, but after last time- apparently something in the formulation reduced the sedative effect, and she has uncertain memories of throwing her body against the chains, against the walls, trying to escape, trying to get- somewhere. She can't quite pull reasoning from the memories, but the wolf had been frantic enough that she'd woken up absolutely covered in bruises. Even healing as fast as she does, she was forced to avoid letting Damien or Arum see her without long sleeves for an extra day after she came back.)

(Rilla doesn't need help. Rilla hasn't had help since she was practically an infant. Why should she get help now?)

"That's... sweet of you to offer," she says, her tone coming out odd and flat, though she does feel herself soften when Arum scowls at the accusation of sweetness.

"I am sensing an incoming rejection, regardless," he grumbles, crossing his arms.

"Not-" she sighs. "Not like that. It's just- I'm more used to being alone than Damien is. I need- I need that time?" It comes out sounding like a question. Come on. "I need to spend some time alone once in a while or- or I'm not very pleasant to be around."

Wow. That's one way to tell the truth and a lie in one sentence. She's almost impressed with herself.

Arum's face does something strange, almost wincing, and he looks aside. "I don't... I've never been alone, not truly," he murmurs. "But-"

But the Keep doesn't count the same way, because it's sort of Arum's mom and sort of the second half of Arum's mind, and when Rilla met them they had collectively been the loneliest thing in the whole of the Universe, as far as Rilla knew. Her stomach churns unhelpfully, her ribcage feeling oddly tight.

She takes a few steps closer, reaching to touch Arum's jaw. "I don't want to leave either of you alone," she says, quiet. "I can't tell you how much of a relief it is, knowing that you'll take care of each other while I'm gone."

Arum's mouth twitches, a pained almost-smile. "I am not... as practiced, in caring for our poet. Not as skilled as you are."

Rilla thinks, not for the first time, that her partners are too sweet for her. Too sweet for her to deserve. She shoves the feeling behind herself, letting it loom without looking at it, and instead she leans forward and tickles a kiss onto the tip of Arum's nose.

"Oh, hush," she says as he wrinkles his snout and glares sullenly at her. "You're here for him, you take care of him. You're perfect."

Arum scowls more deeply, clearly embarrassed, but he doesn't argue as she peels the gloves from his hands and starts pulling him towards the kitchen to start on dinner.

That should be the end of that, she thinks.

(She can almost feel the wolf's fur shiver, as if reacting to a change in the wind.)

(She ignores it.)