#rilla voice I want to KISS that lizard!

[autisticbillpotts]

as of today I have watched all 35 godzilla movies by the way. thats my big butch lesbian lizard wife and Im in love with her

[damienthepious]

hello this has immediately rocketed to the top five softest fics i’ve written i think, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

A Sound That Runs In The Deep

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

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

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Singing, Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Love Confessions, (love confessions is a SORTA?? maybe????), (in a sideways sorta way)

Summary: Harmonies are a beautiful thing, even if you don't know the words to the song.

Notes: gentle gentle soft soft kiss kiss. possessed yet again by an idea that ran away with me before i could have ANY say in the matter. Title from the song Foxglove, by Murder by Death.

~

Amaryllis sings with a frequency that Lord Arum finds immeasurably comforting. While she works, while she sketches in her journals, in leisure, even humming while she rests gently in bed, fading towards sleep-

Of course, she does not sing with the same layered depth of meaning that his Keep does, no. Of course not, she lacks the vocabulary (so to speak) and the inherent, inborn magic, though that does not make her songs any less beautiful. She sings with his Keep as well, at times, when they find more songs in common between them.

(another voice in harmony with his Keep; it strikes something deep within Arum's chest, heat like coals glowing warm, the same feeling that struck him the first time Amaryllis gasped with wonder at the sight of their greenhouse, the same feeling that struck him when her eyes sparkled gazing out his workshop window into the majesty of the swamp below, the same feeling that struck him at the reverent awe in Sir Damien's expression upon his own introduction to Arum's home)

(the idea of these little humans, these creatures whose affection he covets, cultivating warmth and fondness not only for Arum himself, but Arum's creator, his charge, his counterpart, his Keep-)

(there is very little more beautiful to Lord Arum, than a fond harmony)

He tries not to let on, of course, regarding his greed for Amaryllis' voice (both of their voices, of course, but in this specific context-). Some nebulous part of him worries- if she knows, perhaps she might stop. Or, worse. She might continue, but only out of some indulgent pity, and not of her own desire.

Foolishness, of course. In more ways than one. Amaryllis will only ever do what she wants to do, stubborn thing. He has known that since the first day he knew her. Additionally-

Foolishness, to think he could possibly hide his feelings from the pair of them. Amaryllis possesses the sharpened focus of a scalpel, and Sir Damien (when calm) can interpret his moods with an ease that almost frightens him. She sings for him more and more, as they grow more comfortable together, as they settle into affection and understanding.

Arum wakes gently, his head carefully pillowed on Amaryllis' thighs, an actual pillow tucked beneath his horns, and he feels the warmth of Sir Damien draped boneless above him, the poet's cheek pressed to his chest. Above them both, Amaryllis sings, vague and soft and wordless, and the tune-

Arum wakes quickly, then, going still as his heart pounds hard in his chest.

She must feel him tense, because the melody fades from her voice, drifting into a curious hum as she lifts a hand to caress his cheek, her fingers drifting soothing lines down the fragile webbing of his frill.

"Did I wake you?" she says, her voice still gentle so as not to wake Damien in turn. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's... it's quite alright," he murmurs, tipping his head back to get a better look at her face, her cheeks curved in the slightest sheepishness. Mostly, though, her face is simply pleased, her eyes sparking with their usual warmth. "What were you... what were you singing?" he asks, though he knows perfectly well. "I recognize that tune."

"Oh," she says, the sheepishness a little more pronounced. "I- well. I've heard the Keep sing it before, when you're sleepy, or-" she pauses, and he knows that she's avoiding saying something that might embarrass him (the purse of her lips gives her away). "Or when you're frustrated, or upset. Mostly sleepy, though."

Exhaustion is typically the only state during which Arum isn't too proud to allow the Keep's coddling. He shifts very slightly, readjusting his arms around the poet, nuzzling his snout into Damien's hair for comfort.

"It is a... a good melody," he mumbles into the curls. "A comforting one."

She grins, stroking her hand down his frill again, gentle pressure that makes him want to simply drift back off, safe between his humans. "I figured that you probably liked it, if the Keep sings it that much." She pauses, then shrugs with a breath of laughter. "Plus, I've had it stuck in my head for days."

She hums the phrase again, a mellow lilt, and Arum's scales shiver, the corners of his eyes pricking in a way that he thoroughly ignores.

She doesn't know, of course, what the Keep is saying when it sings that particular song. She couldn't possibly. The melody without the meaning, without the same magic of connection to underlay the sound, only pleasant nonsense to her ears, but Arum-

So short a time, it seems, he has known these two creatures. So short a time they have embraced, learned each other, tried together. So short a time-

But Arum feels it in his heart. Especially here, especially now, with Amaryllis beneath him, hands caressing and supporting, with Damien above in repose. He feels the song sing sweetly through his own veins, burning in his own lungs.

"I..."

So short a time, he reminds himself. He swallows, and then he tilts his head, pressing his cheek into her palm, feeling his throat rumbling deep with drowsy contentment.

"It sounds- beautiful," he says instead, his voice faltering despite himself. "In your voice."

She laughs again, softly, and Arum can sense the subtle heat in her cheeks for only a moment. She cups his face, leaning closer as her skin slowly warms his scales. "Aw, thank you," she says, her tone warm and indulgent enough to prompt a subtle growl to interrupt his purring. She sings it again, though, and his growl stutters off just as quickly.

Arum closes his eyes. He cannot help it; if he looks at her while she sings that, he cannot be certain what he might do. He curls his claws possessively around the poet in his arms, instead, and he tips his head back so Amaryllis might draw her hand down from his cheek to his neck, palm warm against his pulse. He feels, for a moment, as she sings above him, and he swallows roughly, and then-

Arum trills in echo, a leitmotif repeated, and he means it.

I love you, he sings, and he can hear the smile in Amaryllis' breath of laughter even if she does not understand. Not yet. I love you, he sings, and when Amaryllis presses a kiss to his forehead, fond harmony buzzes on her lips.

[penumbrasmooches]

I have been called out for not writing a lizard smooching fanfic, so here you go, the lizard smooching fanfic we deserve. Heavily featuring Damien’s anxiety. Also featuring hugs and kisses.

Also on AO3.

For the longest time Damien had been scared what Rilla would think of him if she found out that he was in love with someone else. A monster no less.

And then she found out. And against all odds, it had been fine. She actually liked the monster as well.

She liked the monster as well, and the monster liked her, and maybe this was worse.

Or was it better?

The three of them had been staying at the keep for a day now, and Rilla and Lord Arum had vanished into the greenhouse lost in a discussion about plants and magic, and they hadn’t spared Damien another glance.

And… that was fine, wasn’t it? They were happy. That’s what was important. And he… He loved both of them, but obviously they were just fine without him. Otherwise they would have invited him, right? But why would they, he knew nothing of plants or magic anyway.

There was nothing he could contribute, they were better off without him.

But should he just leave without telling them? Would they even remember that they’d left him out here? He didn’t want to barge in and disturb them. But just leaving would be so terribly rude. Oh, what to do.

He sat down by the base of a tree, eyes closed and concentrating on a prayer to Saint Damien so much that he completely missed the footsteps coming towards him.

“Damien?”

That did it to take him out of his reverie.

He stood up in one fluid motion. “Rilla! Lord Arum!”

The lizard had followed a few paces behind, but caught up when Rilla stopped in front of Damien. “What are you doing out here all alone, Honeysuckle?”

“Uh, um...” Oh, he should have left after all!

“Yeah, you could have come join us.”

She’s just saying that to be polite. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Impose? Damien! You know how I can get when I’m talking about science, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you there!”

Or was she just saying that? Did it matter?

They had been well on their way to get married, but now- Or… had they even? Rilla had never said when she was going to marry him. And now that she was in love...

“I must speak my heart!”

Lord Arum looked like he wanted to say something, but Damien pressed on before either of them could get a word in, addressing Rilla.

“I used to be scared of what you’d think if you ever found out about my feelings for Lord Arum, but there was no reason for that, as you feel the same for him. And- it seems he is quite fond of you as well.”

“Damien?”

“I will not delude myself any longer. Clearly you two have found happiness with each other.”

“Damien!”

“I will not stand in the way of your- your love, and as such I feel that I should take my leave immedia-”

“Honeysuckle!” That nickname made Damien snap out of it. That or the claws that were gently digging into his shoulder now.

“I- W-what?”

“Damien!” Rilla grabbed his face to turn him towards her, and dragged him into a kiss.

Damien clung onto her like a drowning man who was almost okay with drowning and was really more concerned about not accidentally dragging someone else down with him.

Rilla pulled away after a few seconds, but didn’t let go of his face just yet. “We don’t want you to go! We... I love you.”

“You… do? But...” Damien glanced over to Lord Arum.

Lord Arum still hadn’t let go. He spun Damien around to face him, and squeezed his shoulder.

“Yes, well, I-” Lizards, being coldblooded, couldn’t blush. If that weren’t the case, Lord Arum would be red as a beet right now, but as it was, he was just avoiding both their gazes and rubbing his neck and one of his arms, and playing with the hem of his cloak.

He closed his eyes and ducked down to nuzzle the top of his snout against Damien’s jaw. “I am... also rather fond of you. Takatakatakataka.”

“I-”

They- they couldn’t just be saying that. Or could they?

“I-”

“Damien.” Rilla pulled him into a hug, soothing hands running through his hair and along his back. 

Lord Arum wrapped his arms around both of them, resting his chin on the top of Damien’s head. “We want you to join us, Honeysuckle.” 

Damien could feel something akin to a purr from Lord Arum’s throat.

He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh straight from his soul.

Rilla’s fingers stilled in his hair. “Do you want us to sing to you?”

Damien dropped his face into Lord Arum’s shoulder. “Always… Wait. Us?”

“~Meet me by the river~,” Rilla began.

Damien was pleasantly surprised when Lord Arum joined in. “~Where the elderberries grow~”

He melted into the embrace. Their calm voices filling him with tranquility.

He could do this.

They wanted- Or did they? Yes. They did. They wanted him to stay.

He could do this.

But...

“~When stars are silver, no one has to know~”

He slowly started to pull away and both of his- his… what were they even to him? - Both of them let go, still lingering close.

“How does this work?”

Rilla faltered, unsure for a moment, but Lord Arum stepped in. “It will work exactly the way we make it work.”

“Yeah,” Rilla agreed. “Yeah, we’ll figure it out. We’re scientists! Figuring stuff out is half of what we do!” She smiled up at Lord Arum and pressed a kiss to his jaw, and his frill gave an involuntary twitch. “We’ll figure out how to properly kiss Arum, and we’ll figure out how we can all kiss each other without getting jealous. For example. Hypothesis: Everyone will be happier if kisses are distributed equally. Test one.” She pressed another kiss to Damien’s jaw this time. “So? What are the results.”

“Uh- Wh-”

“This was hardly a complete test yet,” Lord Arum interrupted.

“How do you mean?”

“We’ve not actually shared the same amount of kisses. But I shall rectify that, like so.” Lord Arum pressed the front of his snout to Rilla’s cheek. “I- Well, that’s… not quite…” He hung his head, in what Damien thought might be embarrassment, before continuing the motion to nuzzle the top of his snout against Rilla’s jaw, like he’d done with Damien before.

He stepped back and looked at Damien encouragingly, tapping Damien’s thigh with his tail. “Well? The lady said ‘equal distribution’.”

“Uh, right.”

Damien, who was not a coldblooded lizard, felt heat creep into his face, as he leaned in to kiss Rilla’s cheek.

He wasn’t quite sure why his face was heating up. This was his fiancée he was kissing, and it was hardly the first time. But- there was something about feeling Lord Arum’s eyes on him that made him feel hot all over.

Lord Arum cleared his throat. “I’d say the results were quite satisfying.”

“Indeed,” Rilla said. “Although we will have to run some additional test later. For now let’s get back to the plants?”

“Right. Come now, Honeysuckle. We have some experiments we left unattended.” Two of Lord Arum’s arms snaked around Damien’s back and gently pushed him along towards the greenhouse.

-

The space was cramped and they were in constant physical contact - although that might not just have been because of the limited space -, Rilla’s shoulder brushing against Damien’s as she was moving around the greenhouse, and one of Lord Arum’s hands on Damien’s arms and back to maneuver him to the places where he had the best view of their experiments.

They sounded so excited when explaining things to him that he almost felt like he was supposed to be there.

And under the joint tutelage of his two lovers, he learnt to see the world in ways he never had before.

[podcastlimbo]

Also posted on ao3!

It’s lizard kissin’ Tuesday, and I finally have a fic ready for it!!! It’s a short one, in which Arum comes to the realisation that he likes to prattle on as much as his poet does. Enjoy!

-

The three of them were laying together, sprawled in one of the Keep’s many balconies. The space was large, sheltered by a leafy overhang, overlooking the whole of the swamp, Rilla, Arum and Damien having ventured out in hope of catching a cool afternoon’s breeze. But in the tail end of summer, such a mercy wasn’t likely to pass anytime soon.

They had found themselves in this position sometime after lunch, when, the humans complaining that the heat had sapped most of their energy from them, had promptly assaulted Arum to take advantage of his cold-blooded (literally) biological makeup. In other words, Rilla had claimed Arum’s right side, and Damien was draped over his left, the three all lounging on a hammock made of soft vines, gently rocking to and fro.

Oppressive heat aside, it wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

Damien had fallen asleep, a leg wrapped around the lizard’s, and his left arm across his scaly chest. Rilla watched Damien’s chest rise and fall, his breathing slow and deep.

“A rare moment of quiet. Enjoy it while it lasts.” Rilla started as she noticed Arum was staring at the sleeping poet too. She batted Arum’s arm gently. 

“Don’t be mean. I know you love it when he goes on and on.”

“I should say the same for you.”

“I’ve known him for ages. I’m not sure if you’ve ever come across someone who talks as much as you do.”

Arum bristled, and Rilla let out a brief snort of laughter.

“I’m talkative? Me??”

“I can’t believe this is news to you! You go on and on about whatever your latest invention is, or about the various ingenious ways you’re still able to keep doing the work that you do without the help of the Moonlit Hermit, or about monster architecture, or-“

“-I.. think I get the picture.” Arum’s eyes are wide in realisation, and his mouth is set in…was that mortification? “I simply wasn’t aware of it, obviously. If you look at it, it’s always been just me and the Keep, and the Keep is a perfectly decent listener.”

Arum paused, and let the Keep issue a series of soft, pleased notes.

Before he could continue, Rilla kissed him, grinning as he let out a pleased purr.

“I think your talking is kinda like your purring,” she remarked as they broke apart. “You can’t really help it, it’s more of a nature thing, you know?”

“So I’m just a naturally talkative lizard, then?” She could hear the smile in his voice.

“I think you have a lot to share, just like Damien! You see the world in an amazing way, and Damien and I love to hear you talk about it. Of course,’ she added, half jokingly “there is the fact that no one had ever told you to shut up before.” 

She heard him begin to shape his response, but it died before it could leave his mouth. 

“Hmm?”

“I… I don’t miss it.” It came out in a rush, and Rilla inched her face closer to his once again.

“Don’t miss what?”

“Don’t miss not having anyone there to… not having anyone there.” 

She squeezed one of his arms affectionately, and he wound his tail around her in response. 

“Not that I want you to shut up, of course,” she quickly backtracked, “just..”

He laughed quietly, short and low, and nuzzled the top of her head with his snout. 

“RIlla, sometimes it isn’t I who does too much of the talking.”

“Message received.” She grinned and began kissing him in earnest, starting from his neck, travelling slowly, languidly, upward, until..

..Damien let out a soft snore where he lay right next to them.

They separated a second time, a little sheepishly.

“Now’s not the best time, I guess,” Rilla admitted.

“And I don’t think our Honeysuckle would want to miss out, either."

“Oh, he’ll have something to say about it, I’m sure.”

They simply lay there then, basking in the other’s company, rocking side to side on the hammock. As Rilla and Arum began to drift off as well, they could have sworn they felt a faint breeze tickle their faces, as the oppressive heat finally began to lift, ushering in the new season.

[wastrelwoods]

i havent liveblogged a penumbra ep in a minute? anyway i’m queuin up spiral sage pt 1 if u wanna hear my real-time onions

oooh the pigs! who fought the nymphs! 

you may not like it, but this is what peak performance looks like,

arums ON TRIAL? for WHAT? is it abt visiting the citadel? about the hermit? about......bein into humans? 

oooooh you KNOW im into the endless waterfall off the side of the world fuck YES thats my fantasy FLAVOR 

AW rilla hates pink i love rilla (insecure in your femininity slkdjgdfklh oh  worldbuilding)

sir caro has the biggest dick energy i have ever known and i just. love her

JANUS BEAST SEQUEL

rilla’s too SHORT to SEE

oh who is THAT WOMAN please say babe again

relocation......oh no...my attention can’t be split between worry for arum and gay obsession w this girl who needs to call me if things dont work out w rilla 

im DEEPLY worried hhhh i want....arum to kiss a human or two and be alive uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

but also...the monster worldbuilding still good

i fucking wish i could draw lizards even at all this demands fanart

OH he’s been making ALL THE MONSTERS!! whAT! 

and he��s using his last words as an excuse to warn rilla OH OH OH 

beautiful blooms

this is such a fucking good snail voice 

u ever jsut. finally recognize kate jones’ voice 

OH NO THE DISGUISE 

[ernmark]

Human Arum AU

I have been wrestling with this chapter for weeks, but I’ve finally got it down.

If I write anything more in this AU, it’ll either be reactions to things or little asides, but the story itself is done.

Holy crap, that wound up being long.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Quite a few monsters must have noted their passage on the way to the sorcerer. On the return journey, Damien catches sight of a few watching them through the foliage. He suspects that there are others he doesn’t perceive, judging by the way Lord Arum’s claws tighten around his shoulder at odd intervals.

The constant contact isn’t a sign of anxiety, or even an attempt to reassure Damien. It’s a signal to the other monsters in the forest, so clear and deliberate that it might as well be in writing: Damien is his. He’s already killed one monster to defend that claim, and he’s ready to do it again. Damien suspects he won’t need help, but he made sure to retrieve his bow and keep it strung, just in case.

But the journey is a long one, and it isn’t all tension. Not of the hostile variety, at any rate.

Lord Arum’s nose brushes his ear, close enough to make him shiver. “Give me a poem, honeysuckle. Let me hear your voice again.”

Damien flushes. A poem. Yes. Of course.

He settles on an old ballad from the First Citadel, about lovers separated when one is called to war. He’s recited it a hundred times at least-- usually during monsoon season, when storms keep the world locked inside and the rain drums a beat against the rooftops.

He tells himself that Lord Arum’s request is another show of power, that only someone truly confident in their right to be here would so brazenly draw attention to themselves in a jungle full of monsters. He has to make himself believe that-- the alternative would leave him too flustered to articulate the ballad properly, and that would only embarrass them both.

When they return to the swamp, Rilla is there waiting for them, a relieved smile on her face and a basket of herbs on her hip. She always throws herself into her work when she‘s worried.

It’s mostly to assuage her fears that he lets her check him over. The sorcerer’s vines left heavy bruises on his neck and hands -- nothing ghastly, but it’s visible enough to cause concern. Besides, Rilla always seems to feel better after she’s had the chance to gauge the extent of his injuries for herself, and Damien won’t deny that he appreciates the contact.

He shuts his eyes and lets his attention narrow to the sensation of her hands on him, the familiar smell as she blends honey and garlic into a thick paste, the stickiness as it’s spread over his cuts and scrapes and carefully wrapped to stave off infection. Her care is as ritualized as his prayers, and just as soothing to a troubled mind. He’s nearly sorry when she pulls away.

“It looks like you’ve got a cracked rib,” she says. “I can give you something to help with the pain, but it should heal on its own in a few weeks.” Her smile could warm a winter night. “Do you think you can hold off on the adventuring for a little while?”

“I...” He doesn’t know how to answer that honestly. “I’ll try to restrain myself.”

She kisses his forehead. “That’s all I ask.” And then she turns on Lord Arum. “As for you, Lord Lizard.”

Lord Arum’s frill flattens against his neck. “There isn’t anything wrong with me.”

“And I’ll believe that when I see it,” she says, grinning. “All brave heroes have to get examined after battle. It’s a rule.”

“But I’m not hurt.”

“That’s what you said about that thorn you stepped on yesterday, too, but I bet it felt better to get it out.”  Her expression softens. “For my own peace of mind, at least. You both went into that fight. I want to make sure you both made it out in one piece.”

Lord Arum gives a dramatic sigh. “Alright. If it’s all that important to you.” He makes a show of acting put out, but he can’t quite hide the half-lidded look of contentment as Rilla looks him over for cuts and bruises.

“You’re very good at this,” he muses while she cleans up a cut on his leg.

“Well, I am an herbalist. It’s my job to be good at it.” There’s a moment’s hesitation befor eshe shrugs. “It was, anyway. If I’m down to two patients, I’d better take good care of you.”

“Rilla...” The pit in Damien’s stomach is all too familiar. “I’m... sure it won’t be a problem now that the Queen is restored.” It sounds believable enough, doesn’t it? After all, it’s not entirely a lie, is it?

“I’m not so sure about that,” she says. “I caught one of her spies here last night.”

Damien’s throat goes dry. “Did you?”

She nods, smearing more of the honey paste onto a bandage. “He didn’t get far. I found him in the thistle trap close to the road. I drugged him and put him back on the road, but he sounded like he wasn’t going to be the last one.”

“Well, yes,” Damien says, trying to act out confidence he doesn’t feel. “But that was last night. Likely the Queen was still transfigured when he set out.”

“If you say so,” she says. “But I feel a lot better with all those traps around.”

“They didn’t give you trouble, then?” Lord Arum asks.

“I did set off the shriekweed at one point, but I eventually figured out how to make it stop. Where did you even find that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Are you familiar with parrot plants?” he asks.

“Well, yeah, but its auditory properties are in its roots,” she says, and the two of them are caught up in a long, complex debate that mostly escapes him. Damien suspects the two of them might have a hundred conversations just like this. A thousand, perhaps.

Perhaps Rilla could be quite happy here.

He holds onto that thought.

When Damien wakes, it’s underneath a pile limbs. Rilla tucked against his side, her head on his shoulder, one leg folded over his thigh, her arm arranged in an odd configuration with Lord Arum’s over his chest. Lord Arum is curled around his other side, one leg twined with Damien’s.

They have him so thoroughly ensnared that he can’t help wonder if it’s by design.

The bed is warm, the bodies soft and comfortable against his. All he has to do is shut his eyes and fall back asleep.

Last night they spoke of contingencies and plans for the future. Lord Arum said he and Rilla were welcome to stay here as long as they wanted. Forever, if they feel so inclined. He said they would be safe here.

And perhaps they would-- safe from a single knight, or two, or five. But there’s no telling how far the Queen will go to see the Citadel secure.

Damien won’t let it get that far.

And so he untangles himself from Rilla and Lord Arum's embrace. It takes longer than he would prefer, but he can’t afford to wake them. If he has to look them in the eyes, then he might never leave.

He should write a note-- or something better than a note, something worthier-- but there is no poem that could contain the way he feels, no ballad that could describe it. If he tried for a hundred years, he might manage to arrange the words in the right order, but he doesn’t have that time. All he has is this precious handful of moments. All he can do is hope that they’ll understand. 

He allows himself one last indulgence: a kiss on Rilla’s forehead, another on Lord Arum’s cheek.

And then he leaves.

He walks along the woven walkways in the canopy, but not for long. There’s a man on the forest floor below. One of the Queen’s spies, no doubt: he seems perfectly capable, but he looks more suited to a court than to the jungle. His eyes are too wide, and glancing over his shoulder at every sound, but he never thinks to look up.

Well. There’s no use prolonging his discomfort. 

Damien takes care to keep out of sight as he makes his descent, then steps into the open right behind the spy. “I hope you aren’t looking for me,” he says cheerfully, and the spy jolts. “If you are, you’re going the wrong way.”

The spy whirls to face him, a knife already in his hand. “In the name of the Queen,” he hisses. “You’re--”

“There’s no need for that.” Damien raises his empty hands. He left the bow against the mantel in Lord Arum’s home, set just below those beautiful knives. “I surrender. I’ve come to turn myself in.”

It’s with some relief that Damien is taken back to the keep. For the last two days, he’s been plagued by the worry that the Queen’s condition and Lord Arum’s weren’t connected after all, and that they had ruined their one chance by killing the sorcerer.

But when he’s led into the throne room by two armed guards, he lays eyes on the queen in her natural form, with two arms and skin in place of scales and presumably hair hidden underneath one of her many priceless headscarves. It seems he was brought in while court was in session; she’s surrounded by half a dozen royal administrators and their attendants.

It’s an audience that he would rather not have, but he will face it all the same.

He brings his hand to his shoulder in salute and respectfully lowers his eyes.

“Sir Damien,” she says coolly. “I see you were successful.”

“Yes, my Queen. The sorcerer is dead. I apologize, but your Majesty’s headscarf was destroyed in the encounter. I had intended to return it to you. But it won’t be used against you again.”

There’s a slight murmur among the attendants. When Damien dares a glance at her face, the Queen has gone utterly still, her face expressionless. It seems the Queen’s transformation is intended to remain a secret.

“Very well,” she says, and her voice betrays nothing. “Though I am surprised that you came back at all.”

He lowers his eyes again. “I trust in your Majesty’s wisdom. I know you will do what is necessary for the safety of the Citadel.”

Rather than respond, she addresses her administrators. “This matter requires my immediate attention,” she says by way of a dismissal. “Guards, I want you stationed outside the door. I’ll call if I need you.”

Damien is about to ask if that’s wise-- he thinks her a traitor against the Citadel, after all-- but he bites his lip and says nothing. What’s unwise is questioning the Queen’s judgement in front of her courtiers.

He keeps his mouth shut and his eyes down as the attendants file out of the room and shut the doors behind them, leaving him alone with the Queen.

“Your Majesty?”

Her expression is as unyielding as a mountain. “I want to know why you really came back.”

“You gave the order, my Queen,” he says carefully.

“And you decide to start obeying me now?”

Damien tries not to cringe. “My disobedience was my crime alone, and the retribution should be my own to bear. I see no reason to bring Rilla and Lord Arum into it.”  He straightens his spine. “I regret the danger I have brought to you and to the Citadel, but I don’t regret sparing his life. I’m prepared to accept the consequences of my actions.”

“You understand that you may hang for this.”

“Is that your Majesty’s judgement?”

“I’ll make my judgement when I’ve heard the whole story.” She leans forward in her throne. “I want to know why you did it.”

“My Queen?”

“A lizard broke into my bedchamber, and you not only allowed it to leave alive, but you bandaged its wounds with a priceless royal heirloom. Why?”

His face heats. “I cannot rationalize my actions. I know my crime.”

“That’s not what I asked,” she says, undeniable force in her voice. “Explain yourself.”

Are you sure you’d rather not just get on with the hanging?

“I did it because...” He swallows. Saint Damien, give me strength. “Because I could not bear to do otherwise.”

He can’t bear to look at her face, but a slight motion of her hand indicates he should continue.

“I did intend to kill him, Your Majesty. But it was obvious when he spoke to me that he is neither a mindless beast nor a soldier, but-- but an architect. An intellectual.”

“He broke into my chambers,” she reminds him.

"And for such an offense, I could have seen him arrested and imprisoned-- but not killed. Not for climbing a wall and smashing a vase."

"That wasn't your decision to make.”

"I know, your Majesty. But I stand by it. Even before he was transfigured, there was something human in his eyes.”

“I see.” She sits back, steepling her fingers. “This Lord Arum seems very attached to you.”

That’s certainly one word for it. “Yes, your Majesty.”

“I suppose he’ll cause more trouble if something were to happen to you.”

Damien swallows. He had considered that. “It is a possibility, yes.”

“Then it seems he’ll have incentive not to put you in any more precarious positions.”

Damien blinks up at her. “I-- I’m not sure I follow.”

“You call him a lord and an architect, and when he was here, he spoke of being paid to steal my belongings. A week ago, we had no idea that monsters had such things available to them-- which would suggest that the Citadel’s policies toward monsters have been misinformed for decades. Perhaps centuries. If we are to move forward, it must be with a stronger understanding of who and what we are dealing with. And it seems that you’ve found yourself in a position to do just that, Sir Damien.”

Something bubbles up through the oozing dread in Damien’s chest.

“Don’t misunderstand, you stole my headscarf, allowed an intruder to escape, and lied about your contact with him after the fact. For that, you will be suspended from your duties. I will need to consult with my advisors about what to do with you when you return.”

“I--” Damien doesn’t even know how to put it into words. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

“I doubt your tie with Sir Angelo will survive my judgement.”

He has to try not to laugh aloud. “It is a price I am willing to pay.” But he collects himself. “And-- and Rilla? Will she be permitted to return to her patients?”

“I suspect she will whether I allow it or not,” the Queen says wearily. “I suggest you collect your things and go before your fiance and your lizard friend come looking for you.”

[damienthepious]

i would sell u to satan for One Comment. pfft dklfsldkjf hello please enjoy my little fic lalala

Missive

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Rilla, Lord Arum

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Polyamory, (which like DUH but also), (it's. specifically the context. idk how to. ah whatever just read it.), Kissing, very mild angst, Implied Sexual Content, rilla hooligan hours!!!

Summary: Lord Arum cannot join Damien and Rilla in much of their lives. Luckily, they are all of them too clever to let that stop them from sharing as much as they possibly can.

Notes: this Possessed me. it did not exist this morning, and now it does. oops! uh, enjoy?? ghjgkdjfk love u happy lkt <3<3<3

~

It leaves an ache deep in Damien's chest, the reality which must, for the sake of all of their safety, keep Lord Arum tucked away from his and Rilla's lives in the Citadel. That reality dictates that Damien's home must be kept distant from his lily, that he may not even speak Arum's name or acknowledge his existence for fear of bringing danger to all that Damien loves. It aches, and perhaps it would only ache if Sir Damien were left with his own instincts and sorrow and guilt to guide him, but-

Early on, Rilla comes to meet him on a break (he has convinced the Queen to allow him guard duty again, despite the cast on his arm), on the pretense of checking his injuries and bringing him medication for the pain. She takes his hand, and with a grin that Damien could not argue against even if he wanted to, she tugs him into a side room, small and private.

"What-"

She leans dangerously close, tilts his chin up with a knuckle while her grin slips to a smirk, and then she leans down, pressing their lips together in a tender, fierce sort of kiss, ending with a sharp little bite on his bottom lip. He gasps softly as she pulls away, her other hand tangled playfully in his curls, and when he blinks his eyes back open she laughs at the look on his face.

"Arum wanted me to pass that along," she says slyly, nuzzling against his cheek. "And here's one from me, too."

She tugs his hair gently to angle his head back, and then she kisses him once more, warm and undeniable and stunning his mind completely blank.

She laughs again as he slowly blinks back to himself, holding her close in his arms and murmuring something that might either be a prayer or a line of verse (not even Damien himself is certain, just at the moment), and then she cups his cheek with a softer, fonder smile.

"Rilla," he breathes, and he can imagine, just for a heartbeat, Arum's heat at his back, Arum's arms curling gentle and certain around the both of them. "Oh, oh love, I-"

"I know," she says, stroking her thumb over his cheek. "I know I can't keep you for long, I just wanted to make sure I got that very important message to you." She winks, and Damien laughs helplessly. She leans a little closer, then, her lips teasing at the line of his jaw. "Any return message you'd like to send back with me, Sir Poet?"

Damien laughs again, both at her words and at the nearly tickling touch of her lips against his skin.

He considers, for a moment, humming lightly as he holds Rilla snugly against his chest, and then he nods.

"An equally crucial one, certainly," he says, his voice sonorous with mock-severity. "I am quite confident I can entrust you with delivering a missive of such grave import."

Her eyes spark with delight, her lips pressing together to bury the full force of her enthusiasm. "On my honor, oh brave Sir Knight," she purrs, utterly indulgent.

"But first, my forever-flower," he murmurs, and then he leans up, peppering her cheeks with sweet, gentle kisses until she laughs, and then he captures her own lips properly, and the way she giggles even into the kiss is as dear and right as home. "First, only for you," he finishes, murmuring soft, and she smiles so warm that it makes his heart stumble.

"You are so sweet sometimes that it drives me crazy," she says, teasing over an edge of heat as she squeezes her arms around him.

"I hope I shall drive our lily to quite the same distraction," Damien admits, and then he schools his expression mock-serious again. "Now, for my message in kind..."

Damien curls his injured arm carefully tight around the small of her back, trails his other hand slowly up her spine until he can cradle the back of her head (he imagines Rilla mirroring him, tracing a line up the center of Arum's back, imagines the way the monster will shiver and hiss in response), and then he pulls her gently down into the kiss.

He tries to pour out the whole of his affection, tender and lingering against Rilla's lips, teasing only gentle with his tongue, delicate in just the way he knows will make their monster go breathless and wild when Rilla echoes this kiss in his arms.

When their lips part, he presses his forehead against her own, leaving his eyes closed with a sigh.

"Saints," Rilla breathes, and Damien can hear the grin in her voice. "Y'know, I was planning on trying to get some work done today, but after that-"

Damien laughs. "It was not my intention at all to thwart your plans, my love, but- well, I do not foresee you escaping from our lily's arms for quite some time after you deliver that particular note."

"Oh no," she says, utterly sarcastic. "How awful for me, not at all a complete fucking win that I'll have to find a way to pay you back for sometime."

"Certainly," Damien hums warmly. "Of course not, my flower."

They cling for a little while longer, mutually reluctant for as long as they can justify, until eventually they manage to pry themselves apart, kissing once more before they each retreat to their respective responsibilities. This time, however, the parting does not leave Damien awash with that sense of inevitable heartsick loneliness. He cannot see his lily here, in his Citadel. He cannot even speak of that beloved half of his heart, but-

Arum's mind lingers on Damien, even distant. Enough so to whisper affection into Rilla's ear to bring with her, to bring along to Damien. And Rilla will bear his own affection back, to reassure their monster of their love in the moments they cannot share in truth.

Arum cannot join them in the Citadel, not as the world exists currently, but-

Damien and Rilla both carry Lord Arum with them, regardless. In their hearts, in their hands, on their lips, in the love they share with each other. Even distant, their love persists. Even hidden.

Sir Damien stands stalwart at his post, dutiful for the rest of the day, and his lips tingle and his mind drifts with buzzing affection as he devises some rather pleasant ideas regarding future messages to pass between his loves, and he does not need to brace beneath his yearning while his mind is so much more gently occupied.

Lord Arum nuzzles affection into the back of his neck to carry along the next time he leaves the Keep, arms wound snug around his chest, and Damien enthusiastically carries that warmth with him until he can surprise Rilla between appointments the next morning, making her squeak and giggle when Damien nips gently at the back of her neck.

Rilla shocks him into a yelp with her hand on his backside just outside the barracks, cackling laughter and deflecting all blame to the monster for the slap until Damien laughs as well, already strategizing a volley in return.

Arum pins him against the wall the moment he enters the Keep, echoing Amaryllis' teasing words to soften the news that she will be too busy to join them that evening.

Rilla graces him with Arum's kiss in the market square, surrounded by laughter and light, and he returns a kiss to be delivered in the dim-lit safety of the Keep, and for only a moment, he can feel Lord Arum's scaled palm, settled soft over their own clasped hands.

They weave affection between them, passing hands and tongues and whispers, and whenever any two of them are removed from their third, they breathe their distant love to each other regardless, memory and intent and shared devotion, love murmured from lip to lip to lip to lip, notes folded and refolded, softened by affectionate caressing and made ever more beautiful. And always, every time, the love they carry between them is sealed with a kiss.

[damienthepious]

tuesday tuesday tuesday mwah!

Knight of the Swamp (chapter 8)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ch 7] [ao3] [ch 9] [ch 10] [ch 11]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum & The Keep, Sir Damien & The Keep, Rilla & The Keep

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

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, (some characters tagged will not appear until later chapters!), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Love Confessions, (for rilla&damien), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, (for R&D and Arum), Dueling, Fealty Dynamics, Pre-Canon AND Alt-Canon at the same time!! fun!!!, Mira is not Queen yet, Power Imbalance, (in the arum/damien dynamic at least. rilla ain’t having it)

Summary: Perhaps the King should have known better than to force Sir Damien to choose between his heart and his oaths.

Chapter Summary: Arum is still irritable, the Keep is fond, Damien is committed, and Rilla is, as always, herself.

Chapter Notes: I feel like this fic is going to start to accelerate soon, and by that I mean, we're going to get into time-skip territory in the next few chapters. which should be fun! i haven't played around much with time-skips, really. OH, also, what's this rated, T? I think T. Anyway there's some references to sex in this chapter, and that'll probably come up again, lmao.

~

Damien steps down from the dais, feeling-

Quite a tangle of emotions, truly. Another conversation with Saint Damien might be in order, if he wishes to unravel the depths of his feelings about this strange, strange ceremony.

Rilla collides with him in a hug, her arms warm and real and distracting around his shoulders before she pulls back enough to kiss his cheek, and then she glances up with a small laugh.

"Oh, there's some in your hair-" Rilla brushes her fingers up through his curls, and then she tilts her head with a very slight frown. "Oh. It... huh." She draws her hands through his hair, down the back of his skull (he shivers, entirely involuntary) and then along his spine, tickling at the back of his collar, where the greenery sprouted. "The Keep's accessorizing you, then?"

Damien laughs, startled, and shakes his head. "Well- I don't quite know if-"

The Keep warbles, light and hazy and noncommittal, and Lord Arum waves a hand in the air.

"They are humans," he says, voice snappish and huffing. "Obviously they do not want magical flora sprouting all over them, Keep. Leave them be."

Damien's stomach twists, because- well, the idea of 'magical flora' on his person does, in fact, make him rather inarguably nervous. At the same time, however- the Keep has not been anything but gentle and careful and accommodating towards them, and Damien doesn't... he does not think that there is any malice whatsoever in the little sprouts.

"It- it's quite alright," he says, after a moment. "I cannot imagine it would do any harm, would it?"

"Of course not," the monster grumbles, looking away from them and pulling the crown off of his head. He holds it out, and the throne unwinds itself again, taking the little circlet back into the tangle until it is indiscernible from the rest. "But that doesn't mean that a human would accept such a g- such an imposition."

"It's quite alright," Damien says again, more softly, and Rilla squeezes his hand, either an agreement or a comfort, he cannot be certain. "It isn't an imposition."

The monster rumbles an odd noise from the base of his throat, and then he turns warily towards them again. "Fine. Regardless. Now that all this- this nonsense is out of the way, I will bid you good evening. The Keep will show you to your new chambers. We shall speak again in the morning."

Damien blinks. He had been expecting- well, he has been knighted, again, and he had been expecting to be given orders, duties, some idea of Lord Arum's expectations regarding his position. He glances towards Rilla, who meets his eye with an equally dubious expression.

"Okay," she says, placing a hand at her hip, "can I ask why you keep sending us off on our own when you so clearly don't actually trust us yet?"

Damien winces at the question, and the monster wrinkles his snout and huffs an incredibly put-upon breath.

"Because it requires more effort than exists in my body to interact with you creatures for any extended length of time," he snaps. "I am unused to enduring prolonged conversation, it is not within my set of skills, and-" Arum pauses, and shakes his head with a wordless, dismissive mutter.

Inexplicably, Damien understands what Lord Arum means. He seems uncomfortable with them simply as social creatures; Damien suspects that Arum was not exaggerating even slightly when he described himself as rather solitary. Damien himself often collides with discomfort and exhaustion when forced into crowds or conversations he does not feel equipped for, when he is not able to either fall back upon his strengths of storytelling, or to retreat entirely, or at least to bolster himself with those he knows more intimately when he feels overwhelmed, like Rilla herself, or Sir Angelo-

Odd, to find himself relating to the monster.

Arum sighs again, and then pivots. "And it does not matter if I observe you directly, regardless, because my Keep is aware of you anywhere within this swamp, let alone within itself, and I do not expect you capable of doing all that much damage before it notices and informs me anyway."

"Fair," Rilla says, shrugging. "Fair. Fine. Though- I think you should probably elaborate on exactly how much the Keep is aware of in here, just for like, general privacy reasons-"

"Later," Lord Arum says with a dismissive flick of the wrist. "That was part of the conversation I intend to have tomorrow morning. Go, sleep properly, and we may converse over breakfast. It will not infringe upon you in the interim, I'll make certain of it."

"Alright," Rilla says, her tone a little reluctant. "Are you sure you don't want me to look at your arm before we go off to bed, though? I am a doctor. I haven't treated a monster before, but I really don't think my skill set would be entirely incompatible with you, and Damien did cut you in that duel, so."

Arum pauses, tilts his head, and then breathes a surprised sort of laugh with his frill raising just the littlest bit at his neck. "I- well. Hrm. That won't be necessary," he mutters. He lifts his injured arm out, tugging the leaf-bandage off with another hand and showing-

No injury. Rather, a nearly healed injury, with only the thin line of old scab or early scar interrupting the even texture of his scales.

"The Keep fixed it," he murmurs, shrugging. "I can explain that in the morning as well, perhaps."

He will likely need to, Damien thinks, bemused. Rilla stands utterly tense beside him, her grip on his hand gone tight and her eyes wide and bright and sharp with fascination. She will likely demand an explanation, or she will not be able to move on to any other topic. Damien smiles, overwhelmed with affection as he squeezes Rilla's hand in return, and then he nods.

"In the morning, then," Damien agrees gently. Rilla aims an exaggerated pout towards him, and he stifles a wider smile in response. Instead, he- he bows, a natural and familiar motion even here in so strange a place as the Keep, in deference to so strange a creature as Lord Arum.

Arum's frill ruffles again, his expression startled for a moment before he stiffens and straightens his spine, gesturing with a hand for the Keep to raise another portal for the pair of humans to step through.

"Sleep well," he says as Damien raises back to stand, his tone entirely without inflection, and then he nods again and flicks his hand for a portal of his own, stepping through before either of them can respond in kind.

Rilla leans into his side, gracing him with a tired, fond grin, and then she tugs at his arm.

"Alright, my brave Sir Knight," she says. "Let's check out our new room, yeah?"

~

The Keep shows them to a small, cozy space, made of all woven growth- just like the rest of the rooms they've seen inside the Keep so far, though all the growth looks softer than, say, the throne room. Rilla scans her eyes around the space, calculating and curious.

It's not exactly minimalist - there would need to be less leaves and interesting moss growths for that - but it certainly doesn't look lived-in. In fact, Rilla would guess that the space is newly grown, if the tiny yellow-green sprouts peeking out from junctures in the bark-woven walls are any indication.

Magic, she thinks with an internal shrug. She's going to need to adjust to some serious weirdness if she wants to get comfortable here.

(and she can't deny, at this point, she kind of really does want to get comfortable here)

The Keep has already brought in all of their belongings from their makeshift camp out in the swamp, though, so at least that's something. She meets Damien's eye with a more overt shrug, and they tug out some sleep clothes from their packs and some blankets to drape over the mossy, springy growth the Keep has provided for a bed.

A real bed, Rilla thinks, a little giddily. Or- more real than anything she's slept in for... weeks? Maybe? It's been difficult to keep track. She shakes her head, turning to feed the pigeon while Damien fixes up the bed for them, and then she changes into her pajamas and goes to sit beside him, flopping heavily on the covers and leaning into his side.

"Are you okay?"

Blunt, maybe, but Damien's known her long enough that he won't be surprised. He breathes a light laugh, leaning back into her shoulder with a wry smile.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," he muses, glancing towards the odd bioluminescence on the ceiling.

"You aren't-" Rilla hesitates, biting her lip. "You aren't worried?"

"I am nearly always worried," Damien answers, his tone deceptively light. "In one way or another."

Rilla snorts a laugh, and then she shakes her head. "You know what I meant. You just- I mean, new oaths and- and I know how seriously you take that sort of thing, and for all we know the magic here means it is binding, like, physically and not just for the sake of honor." Rilla inhales, realizes that she's switched into babbling mode, but she can't quite seem to turn it off. "And he hasn't really even explained what he's going to expect from you, or- whether any threats to the Keep are going to be the sort of thing that it's gonna break your heart to fight against, right? It could be-" knights, she doesn't say. "It could be-" friends, she doesn't say. She shakes her head again, harder. "And I know it's- it was- we agreed it was the right choice, even if- even if we really didn't have any other choice to pick from, but- I don't know, I just-"

"Rilla," he says, gentle, and she bites her lip hard.

"I just... I wanna make sure you're actually okay. I know how you feel about monsters, and it just- I don't want you to- to regret where we are. I don't want you to wind up resenting me because you committed yourself to a monster for my sake, to protect me."

Damien goes still, and then he turns his body more fully towards her, lifting a hand to cup her cheek.

"Rilla," he says, his tone low and surprisingly calm. "My Amaryllis, my forever-flower... I love you. You know how I love you."

"I do," she says, maybe just a little bit flustered by her own spike of distress coupled with his calm intensity. "I love you, too."

"I love you dearly," he says again, and then his lips tip into a very slight smile. "But I would not make so dire a choice, so deep a commitment, if I were not doing so for myself, first."

Rilla blinks, and then she gives a breath of a laugh to hide her twinge of embarrassment. "Yeah," she says. "Sorry. Right, of course, obviously, that was- self-centered of me, I know you aren't- I know-"

"I know the way I speak, at times, would indicate otherwise," he says, his smile growing just a little, the tilt of his lips going sheepish. "I do appreciate your concern. It warms me to my very core, that you would worry about the possibility that I would sacrifice some measure of myself for the sake of others without honest cause, and wish to protect me from that. I know that I am rather prone to the habit."

Her shoulders relax. Saints but Damien is good at knowing what she means, even if she doesn't say it the best or most precise way. "I love you," she says again, in general and for at least three specific reasons just at the moment. "I just- I wanna take care of you as much as you take care of me."

"You do," he murmurs, and then he leans closer, brushing his lips over hers with a gentleness that nearly burns. She grips the back of his shirt in both hands, pulling him closer as she kisses back with a bit more fire of her own. "You always do," he repeats, in the space for breath between a few deeper kisses.

Rilla tilts their foreheads together for a long moment, just holding him, breathing slow, feeling warm, and then she sighs. "Alright," she says, wry, "we definitely can't get too caught up in each other before we actually find out from Lord Lizard over there exactly what he meant when he said the Keep is always aware of what's going on inside of it. I'd rather not have an even more extremely awkward breakfast than we need to, tomorrow."

Damien chokes, his cheeks darkening as he leans back with a scandalized expression, and then he laughs. "I think, my flower, that I am far too exhausted to give you the proper attention you deserve just at the moment, regardless."

Rilla sighs. "Same here, if I'm being honest." She wraps her arms around his shoulders, stubbornly leaning to the side despite Damien's wordless protests until they tip over together to bounce against the blankets. "Which means, I think, we should sleep, even if my curiosity is killing me," she breathes into his shoulder, closing her eyes and smiling when his arms tighten around her in turn.

"A tragedy and a sacrifice, my most precious flower," he murmurs, mock-grave.

"I'll survive, Saints willing," she drawls, and then she presses a kiss to Damien's neck, sighing and nuzzling closer. "And in the morning we'll bully Arum into actually answering some damn questions."

Damien tsks, stroking a hand through her hair. "Now, now, love. Please don't bully the Keep's Lord, hm? I only just swore my oaths."

"Yeah, well." She settles, sighing and letting Damien's touch lull her further towards sleep. "I didn't swear not to be myself, did I?"

"No," Damien says, sleep as present in his voice as her own. "Never in a million years."

[↣]

[damienthepious]

lalalala cuddles!!!

slowly a sunlit dream

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Rilla

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, (like... INCREDIBLY mild), Cuddling & Snuggling, Hugs, Communication, (we love to see it!!!!), Sleepy Cuddles

Summary: It isn't always easy, asking to be held.

Notes: @skunkoon​ did this to me with Art. they draw good good Arum and good good Hugs. i'm still weepy about it!!! also sometimes the person in the throuple most likely to comfort everyone else is the one who needs a bit of comfort. hell yeah. Title from the song Sunkissed, by khai dreams!

~

"Arum?"

Arum startles, just enough that Rilla can catch the edge of it, his frill fluttering at his neck as the muscles in his arms tense, and then his frame and his expression both soften as he recognizes her in the doorway.

"Amaryllis," he greets, his voice steady though she can still see the surprise in his expression. "I thought you and Damien were long asleep, by now." He pauses. "I did not manage to wake you, somehow, did I?"

Rilla shakes her head, hazarding a few steps into his workshop. "No, nothing like that."

"So," he says slowly, "you are wandering the Keep in the middle of the night... why, precisely?"

Rilla scowls at that, though a little bubble of affection pops behind her ribs at his dry, lazy tone.

"Not wandering," she protests, stepping close enough that she can lean against the worktable next to Arum. "If I wanted to wander I would have gone down to the greenhouse. Plenty of space down there."

"So what are you doing, then?" he drawls, projecting patience over his obvious curiosity.

Rilla opens her mouth to answer, but-

It's a little embarrassing, isn't it? Or- she wouldn't be embarrassed if this were Damien, but- Arum doesn't always understand, instinctively-

His brow slowly climbs as she fails to answer, and Rilla isn't as good with words as Damien is, so she just-

She tips her body sideways into Arum's, knocking her forehead into his shoulder with a sigh, and Arum startles with a small whirring exhale at the contact.

His scales are cool and textured, soothing against her skin, and she sighs again as she nuzzles her brow into his shoulder.

"Ah- Amaryllis? Are you-"

"It's- stupid," she mutters. "This is stupid, I just- I didn't want to wake Damien, and-"

"What- Amaryllis. Clearly something is wrong, and I refuse to believe that it is stupid. Now, are you going to tell me, or do you expect me to guess?" He raises an eyebrow as she scowls, and then he tilts his head. "It is enough unlike you to hesitate that I cannot imagine that I would ever be able to pluck the correct answer from the air."

Rilla swallows, and then she lifts her head just enough to meet his eyes.

"Just... is it alright if I ask... will you just- hold me?"

Arum blinks, and then his brow furrows as his eyes flick between her own, checking- to see if she's joking, maybe. He turns, though, angling his body towards her, and he lifts a pair of hands hesitantly, his palms brushing her elbows on either side, skating up her biceps.

"Hold you?" he tries, sounding uncertain. "If- I suppose if you-"

Rilla shoves her face into his chest, folding her body against Arum's much larger frame, and the monster exhales a hiss of surprise. He stands perfectly still for a breath, and then he slips his hands further around her, one pair wrapping around her lower back, another hand curled around her shoulder, and the fourth he slips up the back of her neck, cupping her head with his claws careful in her hair.

"Amaryllis..."

Rilla squeezes her eyes more tightly closed, her forehead pressing against Arum's collarbone. "Just- is this okay?" she mumbles against his scales, and she feels Arum's breath catch as he scrapes his claws carefully up and down her back.

"Okay," he echoes, doing very little to hide how baffled he sounds. "Why- why would it not be? Are you- Amaryllis. Are you alright?"

"Just- tired," she says, and she knows she sounds unconvincing even as she speaks. "Just wanted- wanted this."

Pressed to his chest with all of his arms around her, Arum's body nearly envelops her, her head tucked beneath his chin, his scales smooth and gently warm against her cheek and her hands, his heart beating sturdy in her ear, his tail tickling at her ankle before it curls in a protective loop around her calves. His palm cradles the base of her skull, careful like he's holding blown glass, his other arm wraps sturdy and close around her shoulder, his lower hands lace fingers together over the small of her back, holding her, holding her-

She needed-

"Amaryllis," he says, even more quietly, and then he rocks his body just barely, almost imperceptibly, back and forth, swaying with her as if to some silent music. "If you are tired... should you not, perhaps, be sleeping?"

"Couldn't," she mumbles, and then she shakes her head against his chest. "Sorry. I wouldn't... I wouldn't bother you with this if-"

"You are not bothering me, Amaryllis," Arum insists, the arms around her lower back squeezing tighter. "I- I would be lying if I said that I understand precisely what... why you would- would seek me out, but-"

"I like the way you hold me," she says, and Arum's body goes entirely still for half a heartbeat before he makes a small, helpless sort of noise above her and his frame softens. His grip does not tighten, then, but he seems to ease into the embrace, softening around her like a cat settling to rest.

"How convenient for me, then," he rasps, his voice even rougher than normal as he whispers above her head. "Considering that I very, very much enjoy holding you."

He sways lightly, silent for a long moment as she just- presses against his chest, secure and sheltered, trying not to feel like she's imposing, because-

"M'not really good at this part," she admits, eventually, her lips brushing his scales and her eyes still closed, and Arum hums lightly, his throat rumbling against the top of her head.

"Experience suggests that you are quite good at nearly everything you try, Amaryllis," he says mildly, and after she breathes a dubious laugh he continues, "but... you believe you are not good at what, precisely?"

She swallows, blinking, too close to Arum for her eyes to really focus on the glossy green in front of her, and the next words... don't really come. She jerks her shoulder very slightly after a moment, the weakest of shrugs, and Arum hums again.

"Amaryllis... forgive me for asking... this is not..." he pauses, massages his thumbs gently into her lower back, and then he huffs and tries again. "This is not due to something that I have unknowingly done wrong in our-"

"No," she says, quick and firm. "No, this isn't- I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be obnoxious, I know you're still new at this-" he growls at that, automatic and entirely without heat, "and I'm not trying to make things harder. It's just- bad day, I guess. Bunch of difficult patients, and then Damien was so exhausted when he got home and then- I couldn't sleep but I didn't want to bother the Keep to bring me back to the hut to at least get some work done, especially because I knew Damien would be- be sad at me if I didn't at least try to sleep, and I just- I just wanted- but I didn't want to wake him up, and I thought- if you were still awake, maybe..."

Arum gives a low, rattling hiss above her head. Not shushing her, she doesn't think, just- a rhythmic soothing sound that she can feel in his chest as he sways with her.

"I..." he hesitates for a moment. "That sounds... difficult," he says, stiff and uncertain, but genuine. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well." She nuzzles her face into his chest, squeezing her eyes closed again. "You're making it better."

"Am I?" he akss, skeptical, and then he hisses again when Rilla places a kiss over his heart. "Amaryllis-"

"I'm not good at at being the one who needs- who asks for- for- for help or comfort or whatever," she mutters, rushing through the last few words, as if maybe that might keep Arum from noticing them.

He makes a noise, tilting his head enough that he can press his snout into her hair, a nuzzling sort of kiss.

"That- well, I should hardly think that-"

He pauses for a long moment, just... holding her, swaying, drawing his fingertips in soothing patterns across her skin, holding her.

"I... I love you," he whispers eventually, precious like a secret. "I want to be... I want to hold you. I want you to... to come to me, when you wish to be held. I'm- I am glad that you did, that you feel that you can. It is an honor, to be trusted so. One that I hardly deserve, I think."

Rilla scowls, poking Arum in the ribs, and the lizard gusts a startled laugh.

"I know that I am... unpracticed," he continues, his voice a little less heavy. "But certainly you know that I... you know how dearly I wish for you to be... happy. Content, and held, and..."

"Love you too," she says, and then she kisses the scales over his heart again.

Arum exhales, a pleased rumble, and then he tightens his grip, squeezing her in his arms.

"Are you... do you feel... better, then?" he asks, after a long moment.

Rilla nods against his chest, sighing. "Felt better as soon as you started hugging me," she mumbles.

"Hm, how curious," he says, the warmth in his tone belying the false dryness of his words. "So did I."

She laughs, light and breathy, and then she sighs and leans back enough that she can properly meet Arum's eyes again. "Alright, okay. I think I've bothered you long enough."

"Inaccurate," the monster grumbles, his tail squeezing at her ankle. "If anything... well, loathe as I am to admit it, I should have given up on the evening and joined you both in bed quite a while ago, anyway. You've given me a firm and well-needed nudge in that direction."

Rilla smiles. "Ooh, a rarity! The monster admits his limits-"

"A flaw we share, little doctor," he growls, and Rilla grins and pats her hands on his chest in a placating gesture. "Now..."

He shifts slightly, but then he pauses.

"Hm?"

"Ah," Arum murmurs, and then the arm curled around her upper back shifts, his palm caressing her shoulder as he slips subtly closer towards her again. "I believe I've discovered an obstacle."

Rilla blinks, then tries to angle her head so she can look up at his face a little better. There's an edge of playfulness in his eyes, familiar and just as comforting as his touch. "Wh... what. What is it?"

"I believe that you may have, unfortunately, entirely destroyed your likelihood of returning to bed, Amaryllis."

"Oh?" Rilla raises a skeptical eyebrow, trying to level Arum with as much of an unimpressed look as she can manage.

"You asked me to hold you," he purrs, two palms flexing against her back as he slips his other hand from her hair to caress her cheek. "I am afraid, Amaryllis, that I will be rather hard pressed to let you go anytime soon. I think we may be stuck."

Rilla laughs, leaning up at the gentle request of his fingertips, pressing a humming kiss to his smirking lips.

"Alright. An obstacle, admittedly, but one that I think we can work through. I'm fairly certain that we can get to bed without you needing to let me go. Don't you think?"

Arum laughs against her lips, then kisses her again. "An excellent point, my brilliant little doctor," he says, and Arum lifts her into his arms, easy and safe and warm.

[damienthepious]

[a small gentle shout] happee lizz kis tues

could stay right here

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Rilla, Sir Damien (but only asleep)

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Early Relationship, Sleep, Literal Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, (yes two in a row. SUE ME.), Kissing, Singing, Banter

Summary: He isn't used to sharing a bed, just yet.

Notes: this was. supposed to be like... six hundred words, maybe? (sigh). enjoyy????? I hope? I don't know why i'm suddenly obsessed with Early Relationship One-Shots, but!!! apparently I am??? Heck. Title from the song Cement and Sunshine by Morningsiders!

~

Arum jerks awake as the bed shifts, a flash of panic gripping his lungs and squeezing-

Attack, he thinks, and then, won't let anyone hurt them. How- who-

Amaryllis.

She makes some small noise, presses her hands against his collarbone on either side, firm and sturdy, and he manages to suck in a breath that does not feel so strangled.

"Sorry," she says, her voice a breathy whisper by his ear as her hands keep him anchored, her thumbs rubbing soothing arcs against his scales. "Sorry, sorry- didn't mean to-"

Arum remembers. Remembers Damien curled against his left arms. He remains an unbothered, unconscious weight as Arum becomes aware of him again, and he remembers Amaryllis waving them off to bed before returning to her pile of five or six books and her recorder, an unmoveable fountain of determination, remembers awkwardly managing to ask- to ask that she join them, when she at last reached a stopping point, remembers her small, fond, knowing smile-

"It- it's- it's alright," he manages in a hiss, lifting one of his hands to curl around her wrist. "I'm alright. I-"

She leans back in the dark, beginning to draw away, and the panic moves, squeezing his heart instead. He grips her wrist more tightly, still careful of his claws despite his muddled awareness.

"Wait," he whispers, and the only reason he does not lean up to follow her is because he refuses to risk waking Damien beside him. "Don't- don't leave, I-"

She stills, and though he knows it is too dark for her vision she looks towards his voice, blinking against the black. She rests her weight on him again, her palms warm on his chest.

"I'm not leaving," she says, very gently. "It's alright, I promise. Let me just grab the blanket, that's all."

Arum has the sense that he should bristle at that, at her gentleness, her comforting tone, but his heart hasn't slowed yet, and his relief is too large to deny. He makes a noise, hopefully enough of an affirmative for her to interpret, and then he releases her wrist so she can lean back and gather the sheets from where he and Damien must have kicked them in their sleep.

She tugs them up over her shoulder and settles against his side with a small sigh, arranging the cloth to cover him as well, and then she leaves one hand over his heart, brushing slowly up and down.

He tries to slow himself down, to settle, to match his breaths to the motion of her hand, and after a few heartbeats it starts to come more easily.

"I'm sorry," Amaryllis says again, her voice a careful whisper. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

His chest rumbles quietly, a helpless almost-growl, and then he cautiously curls his arm around her, pulling her just the littlest bit closer. "I didn't mean to surprise you," he echoes, low and uncertain. "Jolting awake like that."

"You aren't used to this," she says. "It's okay."

"Used to-" he cuts off, frowning, trying to focus on not letting his rattling growl grow loud enough to wake Damien as well.

"This," she says, her palm pressing down on his scales. "This," she repeats, and then she presses her lips so, so gently to the scales at the crook of his neck.

Arum freezes for half a second, and then his body relaxes all at once, as if she has cast a spell over him with her kiss alone.

She isn't wrong, of course. It had been difficult enough for him to slip into slumber in the first place. Damien had positioned himself draped along Arum's side with a sigh and a kiss and Arum had laid utterly, exquisitely still until the poet drifted to unconsciousness, and then for what felt like rather a long time afterward. When sleep did find him, it must have been a rather fragile thing, considering how easily and violently it broke at Amaryllis' entrance.

"I... I suppose..."

"I mean, I get it. It took me a long time to get used to sharing a bed with Damien, actually," she says, her tone mild, and Arum blinks, glancing down at her musing expression.

"Why?" He frowns, unable to imagine a time- unable to imagine the pair of them at all separate, at all misaligned. They fit together so easily, without any apparent effort, enough so that at times he can hardly believe there was a time he did not know how intertwined they are.

"Because I was too used to sleeping on my own?" Her mouth curls, almost wry, as she traces nonsense shapes on his scales with the tip of her pointer finger. "I spent a long time alone in my hut, and even when I found people to fool around with I didn't usually spend the night. And I'm a really light sleeper in the first place, so it was a big change for me." She shifts slightly, readjusting the arc of his arms curled around her. "He rolled over onto me once, like, the third night we spent together, and I woke both of us up socking him in the nose."

Arum snorts, then holds his breath to keep from cackling a proper laugh. He gulps in a breath after a moment, feeling Amaryllis smiling against his shoulder, and he controls his voice carefully low as he responds. "A rather rude awakening for the poor knight, Amaryllis."

"I know," she rolls her eyes. "I felt awful about it, but- you know Damien. He apologized almost as many times as I did. Dummy."

Arum's heart does something unhelpful and twisting beneath the warmth of Amaryllis' palm, and he buries some rather embarrassing thoughts about the spun-sugar sweetness of their poet before he shakes his head.

"Completely absurd," he mumbles, and then, because he knows Amaryllis cannot see him do so, he tilts his head enough to press his snout gently to Damien's curls. Not quite a kiss by their human measures, but... he feels warmer, regardless, when Damien shifts almost imperceptibly closer at the contact.

"What I mean is..." she tilts her head, kissing his jaw this time. "It's alright. It's alright if it takes a while for you to adjust to things, or- or if you decide eventually that you'd rather not share a bed at all, for actually sleeping. That's fine too, that's an answer that's on the table."

"Don't be foolish," Arum grumbles, resisting the urge to tighten his grip. She's as close as she could possibly be, he reasons. The instinct to pull her closer regardless is nonsense. "I want- I would much rather-"

"I just want you to know that you don't have to do anything just because you feel like you should, that's all."

Arum presses his lips together, torn between gratefulness and indignation, and then he sighs. "I appreciate the... the effort towards clarity. It is not that I don't want the both of you here, beside me, though. I only... I cannot seem to... I am rather vividly aware of you. It is difficult to find rest, while my mind... lingers upon you."

"Ah," she breathes something like a laugh. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"I want you here," he says, trying to round off any ambiguity on that subject, and her breath flutters with another subtle laugh. "Clearly I managed sleep eventually. I'll do so again, I'm certain."

"Well," she says, her voice tilting breathier, richer, more warm with sleep, "if you're certain. Saints know I'm too tired to get antsy about it anyway."

With each moment, her weight settles more heavily against him, a more-than-welcome echo of the pressure of Damien's body on his other side, and he feels heavier as well as her breathing begins to slow. She'll drag him down into slumber with her, he thinks muzzily, and he can't suppress a subtle purr as her fingers continue to trace light, tingling lines on the scales above his heart.

"Just want you to be comfortable," she murmurs, and then she closes her eyes, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. "You don't get enough sleep. And yeah, yeah, I'm a hypocrite, before you even say anything."

He cuts off his retort before it begins, chuckling low, and he must truly be half asleep again already, because his next words come before he can think better of them, and he is halfway through his next murmuring sentence before he realizes that he is speaking.

"I can't understand how much you both... how..."

Amaryllis waits, drawing her fingers over his scales slowly, slowly, her eyes closed, but eventually when he fails to continue she makes a humming, questioning noise against his shoulder.

Arum swallows, shoring up his nerve since he has already begun to speak- he may as well say this now, while Damien sleeps soundly in his arms and Amaryllis cannot see whatever look is on his face.

"I cannot understand... how much trust you place in me. To... to sleep like this. It feels so... you are so vulnerable, Damien out of his armor, and you- it is so hard to- to understand- to reconcile that- that vulnerability and- to settle my own mind, while you both lie helpless and sleeping beside me. I want to pr- I can't- I cannot shake my awareness of your breathing, your heartbeats, and-"

Her hand stills above his heart; he wonders dizzily if she can feel the way it beats, faster with each passing word. He feels ridiculous- of course he does, he can hardly unravel his own thoughts while they still tangle, only half drawn into his waking mind, and he cannot even say if any of this coalesces into something that makes sense.

She turns in the darkness, unseeing, aiming her face towards his own, and then she trails her hand up from his chest, up his throat until she finds his jaw, the curve of his cheek, and then she turns his face towards her own. Ridiculous, he thinks fondly, since she still, obviously, cannot see him, but then she- she angles his head, presses a kiss against his mouth, and then she tilts both of their heads until their foreheads press together.

"You... you're saying you can't fall asleep because you're worried- you're worried about us? About- making sure we're safe."

"I don't-" Arum swallows roughly, nervously, his breath clicking at the base of his throat. "I don't know. I don't know what- what worries me, truly. I know- here in the Keep I know- obviously we are safe, but-"

Amaryllis kisses him again, gentle and warm in the dark, a tender press of lips against scales until his heart slows. She tips their foreheads together again, bites her lip, exhales a long sigh, and then she smiles so, so terribly softly with her palm caressing his cheek.

"And here I was worrying that you couldn't sleep because you weren't used to being so vulnerable," she whispers, and Arum resists the urge to flare his frill in embarrassment. "You- Saints. I- fuck, I could say so many different things right now, but I feel like every single one would embarrass you. I-"

Arum clamps his mouth shut, shrugs very gently with the shoulder beneath Amaryllis, and then he risks nuzzling forward again, gratified when she graces him with another kiss. "Save it for the morning, then," he murmurs. "You can embarrass me plenty when Damien is awake to make that precious wide-eyed expression about it."

Amaryllis shakes with silent laughter against him for a moment, kisses him one more time, and then resettles at his side with a warm, contented sigh.

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep again?" she whispers, her breath tickling at the crook of his neck. "I'd hate to think that I..."

"I'm certain that I'll manage, Amaryllis."

"I can... I could sing for you. If you want me to."

Arum glances towards her, a little surprised by the hesitant note in her voice, the hint of something like shyness. "You..." he pauses, swallows, thinks better of simply announcing how utterly enthralling he is by her voice in song. "That would not wake our little knight, you don't think?" he hedges instead.

"I can sing quietly," she complains, her lips drawing together into something like a pout, her nose wrinkling almost too adorably to stand. "And besides, our little knight sleeps like a fucking rock, anyway." She curls closer towards him, nuzzling her nose into his neck, beside his frill with a sleepy growl. "Do you want a lullaby or not?

"Well..." Arum trails off, taking a moment to force the breathlessness out of his own voice. "Well. If my choices while in bed with you are a song or a punch in the nose, I certainly won't complain about the former-"

She gasps, scowls in mock offense and swats at his side as he bites back the urge to chuckle, and then she settles her hand over his heart again, pressing down.

"Oh you just wait, you complete brat-"

"Are you going to sing or not, little doctor?"

"Hush," she growls, pressing her face into his neck. "Hush up and I will. Absolute brat."

Arum breathes another laugh, helpless against it, and then he settles, and after a moment her fingers start drumming a little pattern against his scales. With the rhythm of his heart, he realizes, and then a moment later she begins to sing, soft and husky and mostly breath, close against his neck.

He doesn't expect it to work, truly. She is so present, they both are, his awareness of their heat and their proximity such a vivid tether in his mind, impossible to ignore. Her song, her voice- everything about her is ethereal, stunning, gorgeous, of course, but he does not expect that even that could draw him down, pinned between their fragile resting bodies.

In the morning, though, he will not even remember the second verse.

[damienthepious]

owo please have a fic comprised of 90% tender touching

Less Like A Deadly Weapon

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Rilla, Lord Arum

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Early Relationship, Post-Episode: s02e36-41 Second Citadel - The Battle at World's End, Facial Shaving, Trust, (lots of tender touching tbqh)

Summary: Sir Damien asks for a little bit of help with his grooming, now that he is no longer too busy charging through the wilds on a desperate rescue mission to bother with something as mundane as shaving.

Notes:my work life has continued to be trouble, but i've wanted to get this one out for a while now! hope y'all enjoy, kiss a lizard, et cetera, i love you! title from the song Sword by IAN SWEET.

~

There are not all that many mirrored surfaces within Lord Arum's Keep. The lizard is a proud creature, certainly, but he is apparently not afflicted with that particular breed of vanity. They've been recuperating for a few days already (the first two tucked safe in a hidden outpost in the swamp, the latter inside Lord Arum's enormous, living home) before Damien happens to finally notice, leaning over a cupped leaf of water that the Keep has provided as a washbasin, that he looks-

Not terrible, really. Rilla has taken great care to treat his injuries, and the Keep has within it a fascinating system of running water with which to bathe, and Damien has slept more soundly these last few days than he has in... months, perhaps? He thinks he may have lost track, somewhere in the darkness of his pursuit. He does not look terrible.

He does look somewhat unkempt.

He thinks he lost the tie for his hair... possibly while stuck upon that impostor slug? No great loss, he supposes, and his hair is clean now even if it hangs in loose waves, tucked behind his ears. The shadows beneath his eyes have mostly faded, scratches and bruises softened by Rilla's careful treatment and a little bit of time. But his face- well, he has gone rather a bit beyond stubble, at this point.

He hasn't shaved, by his estimations, since the morning the Festival of the Three began.

On the proverbial (literal?) warpath while traveling with Sir Angelo and the others in turn, he hadn't had a mind for much beyond finding Rilla. He hadn't a mind for anything, really, and taking care of his appearance was certainly not among his priorities, beyond splashing his face when his fury heated his cheeks, or when he needed to wash away some fresh tears or lakeside muck or specks of ash. His straight razor remained packed away for the entire journey.

(He remembered it, once or twice, along the way, in those too-brief moments of rest. He remembered, but he did not reach for it. He did not want to take the blade into his hand, truthfully. It is not shaped at all like anything made for combat, but still the edge sang and resounded through Damien's memory, he couldn't take the shaft into his hand, could hardly look at it without hearing that hissing voice in his mind, couldn't bear the echo of like a butcher, little knight, treat it with some respect-)

(That particular memory feels somewhat different, now, than it did then. Warmer, perhaps.)

Well. He supposes he should take care of the situation, now that he may finally slow down enough to do so.

His arm is an issue, of course. That pig managed to break his dominant limb, whether in luck or in strategy Damien dare not guess. He could attempt the task with his off hand, but-

Rilla has instructed him rather fiercely not to overexert himself, while they nurse their wounds together.

And, frankly, Damien needs little excuse to request his flower's soothing hands upon him. It certainly wouldn't be the first time that Rilla has assisted him after such an injury, after all.

She agrees with a grin the instant he broaches the subject, one of her hands teasingly on his lower back as she all but shoves him towards the washroom.

"Oh, Saints, yes. C'mon, I miss that pretty face of yours," she says brightly, and Damien feels himself flush as she lovingly manhandles him to sit by the washbasin. "I wanna see it again."

She nudges him to sit back, drapes a warm damp cloth over the bottom half of his face and then presses a kiss to his temple for good measure, making his eyelids flutter closed in pleasure. She plays with his hair for a minute or so after that, chattering enthusiastically about the understanding of the Keep's aqueduct structures that she's managed to glean so far, and then she starts working up the lather as she speaks instead. Damien tries not to mourn the lack of her hands upon him; he knows they'll return soon enough, after all.

Arum finds them when Rilla is nearly done working the foam into his softened beard, his expression wary and uncertain as Rilla greets him with a cheery wave.

He eyes Damien with curiosity, and from his position leaning back in his seat with Rilla's hand pressing to his clavicle, Arum's attention makes Damien feel more than a little exposed.

"Dare I even ask?" the lizard murmurs, his tone a perfect mixture of amusement, irritation, and confusion as he gestures at- well, at the entire scene laid out before him, Damien supposes.

"Damien needs a trim," Rilla says warmly as she finishes swirling the lather below his jaw on one side, and then she tilts his face the other way to finish up. "And he decided to be a good boy about it and actually ask for help instead of trying to muddle through on his own with just his non-dominant arm."

"Is that why you look so- so smug about it, then?" Arum asks, arching his brow imperiously even as his eyes draw over the brush and the razor and the bottles of oils and creams and balms with inquisitive attention.

"I like when Damien lets me take care of him a little bit," she croons, and Damien makes a small, warbling noise of protest, looking up at her with pleading eyes. She meets his gaze with a grin, though, utterly unfazed. "It means he's not overexerting himself. Plus, he just deserves to feel pampered now and then, don't you think?"

She shoots her sharp eyes towards Arum, and the lizard looks vaguely startled for a moment before he glances towards Damien again, a light growl rumbling in his chest.

Damien swallows automatically as he locks eyes with Arum, and then the monster's expression softens, and he steps closer, his curiosity clearly getting the better of him.

"Of course he does," Arum agrees in a murmur, and then he tilts his head. "I should mention, however... what I am gathering, here, is that you lot can, in fact, take off your hair."

Rilla pauses as she sets the brush back into the cup of lather, and then she scowls at the monster while Damien blinks in confusion.

"Okay," she drawls, "technically, sure, in the same way that you can trim back your claws and have them grow back eventually, but it's still not the same as just taking off your damn cape and washing it when someone playfully gets antifungal spray on it-"

"I feel as if I may be missing some context," Damien murmurs, and Rilla rolls her eyes as Arum chuckles low.

"Not important," she says, waving a hand absently through the air before she settles beside Damien again and lifts the razor into her hands. She angles his jaw with her other hand, then presses her fingers beside his ear as she angles the blade, and a few feet away Arum makes a small, confused noise.

Damien blinks, and Rilla pauses to glance towards Arum as well. His eyes narrow at the attention, but his frill still flutters uncertainly by his neck as he watches the pair of them with clear confusion.

"Part of your grooming routine involves scraping a blade against your skin, now?" he asks, dubious, a flash of alarm in the violet of his eyes, and Damien feels affection thrum hot in his lungs as Rilla gives a gentle laugh at the lizard's expense.

"Very, very carefully," Rilla amends. "But... yeah? Pretty much. We could just trim it back, but Damien wants a proper shave, so."

"Hrm," the monster says, obviously unconvinced as his eyes narrow further.

"Do you wanna help out?" Rilla asks, drawing her hands and the razor back away from Damien's skin altogether, and Arum blinks, the dubiousness in his expression instantly replaced with a flustered sort of panic.

"Ah- well, I- certainly I should- should leave it in your hands, I think, Amaryllis, I don't-"

"It's not that hard," Rilla says, her tone casual and easy. "I know you're good with a blade."

His frill swoops, half-flaring out before it sinks to flutter by his neck, almost distracting from the way Arum's face twists into a wince. "Not in this particular context, Amaryllis," he says quickly. "I- I am not adept in using a blade to do anything except to draw blood, I-"

Rilla leans towards him, taking his wrist gently in her free hand and rubbing her thumb soothingly across the scales over his pulse. He makes a small noise at that, a gentle whirring at the back of his throat as the tension in his shoulders eases just a little, and then Rilla presses the handle of the razor into Arum's hand, her mouth curling into a smile. "C'mon. You'll be fine, I promise."

"Amaryllis-"

"It's alright," Damien says gently, his face feeling rather hot beneath the lather. "You- if you are uncomfortable, clearly you need not... you should not feel that we are forcing you. I would-"

"You are not forcing anything, honeysuckle, it is only-" Arum snaps his mouth shut, then glances down at the razor in his hand suspiciously, as if it might misbehave. "I don't... it is only that it seems... a rather large degree of... of..."

"Trust?" Rilla finishes after a moment, her tone surprisingly gentle, and Arum jerks his eyes up towards her, his expression going entirely still.

Damien's ribcage feels too small, his heart wreathed in heat as he recognizes the nervous tension curling the corners of Arum's mouth. Trust-

Of course it is rather a large choice, to press a blade into the hands of a monster, to close his eyes and bare his throat and simply trust.

It is as large a choice as a monster tossing his own blades aside into the mud, hoping that the human in front of him will choose to stay.

"Rilla can show you," Damien says, keeping his volume low so as to prevent his voice from shaking. "I have seen your clever fingers work, Lord Arum. I know that you are more than capable of the task, if you would be so kind as to offer your assistance."

He glances towards Rilla, and she flashes a warm sort of grin in agreement and nods quickly. "You can just watch, if you're really, actually not comfortable. I know I can be pushy, but Damien's right. I wouldn't want to-"

"If- if you think that I..." Arum trails off, then exhales a vague hiss. "If you- trust that I can. That I won't- won't..."

"I trust that I can teach you what to do," Rilla says with a shrug and a smirk, but her eyes are fond and warm as Arum gives her a look that Damien would describe as a pout.

"I trust you," Damien offers, smiling very slightly and lifting a hand to brush his fingers down the scales of Arum's forearm. "I know you'll be careful."

"I have cut you before, honeysuckle," Arum reminds, his voice soft enough that Damien cannot quite pluck out the feeling beneath the words.

Damien smiles, curling his fingers around Arum's wrist and drawing it closer. "Once," he says, his voice quite low. "Only once, and I know that you would never willingly do so again."

Arum's eyes flick between his own, vivid and soft, and then he exhales with a hesitant sort of smile, his chest rumbling with that low, inhuman purr that Damien is growing very quickly to adore.

"Ridiculous," Arum murmurs, unconvincing and fond, and then he sighs and raises his eyes towards Rilla again. "Very well. Show me, then."

Rilla grins again, something of the fox in the curve of it, and she guides Arum's hands to gently angle Damien's head.

She instructs him firmly and carefully, her hand curled around his own scaled one and guiding for the first few strokes, showing the lizard the proper way to hold the blade, the correct angle, the slow downward stroke, and Damien-

Both of their attention so keen upon him feels like too much altogether, the intensity of their eyes making his heart hammer fast in his chest, and after the first stroke of the razor he allows his eyes to slip closed. Rilla's fingers tilt his face gently where she needs, and then Arum's cooler, more delicate touch supplements her own intermittently.

Rilla guides Arum more directly to outline the shape of Damien's goatee, and then again when they tilt his head back to draw the razor down beneath his jaw, her low monologue of instruction both methodical and gentle. Arum, for his part, remains mostly silent with the exception of small noises of acknowledgment, accompanied beneath by his subtle rumbling purr as his uncertainty fades.

Damien blinks his eyes open when Rilla maneuvers him forward to rinse his face after the first pass, and then she shows Arum how to lather him for the second, meticulously explaining each step as they go.

Damien watches Arum's face this time, utterly enthralled by the depth of the focus readily apparent in his expression as he draws the blade so utterly careful against Damien's skin.

Arum only notices his gaze just as he is about to finish, and the monster exhales with a worried flick of the tongue before he glances towards Rilla, a silent inquiry that makes her smirk, and then she reaches to grip his wrist again to help him with the finishing touches.

Arum leans him forward this time to rinse his face ("Cold water for this one," Rilla chirps helpfully), and then Rilla gently pats the balm into his cheeks, leaning close enough to place a playful kiss on the tip of his nose, making both himself and Arum laugh in tandem.

Arum helps him to his feet, then, and he reaches up carefully, ghosting his hands over Damien's newly bare cheeks without quite touching him, his expression utterly focused, utterly enraptured.

"There you are, honeysuckle," Arum murmurs, and then he brushes his thumb gently down the stripe of hair left on Damien's chin. He repeats the motion with a subtle smile, and this time Damien kisses the pad of his thumb, and the monster exhales in surprise. "Ah-"

"Thank you for the assistance, Lord Arum," Damien whispers against Arum's scales, and the lizard flicks his tongue before he slips his hand further up, cupping Damien's cheek properly.

"Yeah, no kidding," Rilla says with a grin, clearly enjoying the way that Arum's frill flares with his embarrassment. "Thankyou."

Arum wrinkles his snout, but his expression softens again when Damien lifts a hand to cradle Arum's own against his cheek. "I... yes, I- I suppose it wasn't all that difficult, after all. With proper instruction."

"Told you," Rilla chimes, still smiling, and then she leans to press a tender sort of kiss to Damien's other cheek, humming lightly.

"And... you didn't mind, honeysuckle?"

"Mind?" Damien repeats, and Arum ducks his head, his frill fluttering again.

"Rather- it doesn't- it isn't a bother to have me- to have us-"

Damien laughs helplessly, utterly baffled that Arum might think he would find his and Rilla's assistance a bother, and then he pulls Arum's hand down, so he can cradle it in both of his own and press it over his heart instead.

"Oh," he says, trying to sound less breathless than he feels. "You- oh, Arum-"

Arum makes another flustered noise, glancing away with the folds of his frill flushing a darker purple. "Honeysuckle-"

"My only concern is how completely overwhelmed I feel to have the attention and hands of yourself and Rilla both so intently upon me, all while I cannot even speak my heart for fear of impeding your delicate care, my darling monster, oh-"

Rilla laughs fondly at his rambling, and Arum blinks for a moment before his frill settles again, his expression going pleased and embarrassed both.

"Well..." he says slowly, and then he presses his palm more firmly over Damien's heart. "That explains this racing, here, I suppose, if our attention... overwhelms you. I was concerned that you- that you- were afraid I would- cut you."

Rilla snorts incredulously as Damien exhales a pained noise, and then he leans forward, still holding Arum's hand to his chest as he presses his face into Arum's neck.

"Oh-" he feels his throat going tight, and he shakes his head lightly against Arum's scales to fight the feeling back. "Rilla is right, you are completely absurd, Arum- I-"

"We trust you, Arum." She folds her arms over her chest, giving Arum a fond, exasperated smile. "I thought that was pretty obvious by now? Saints but you're dense sometimes. I know you trust us, or we wouldn't be here in the Keep, so why wouldn't it be mutual?"

Arum growls, glaring at Rilla over Damien's head, and then he sighs, lowering his face so he may press his own cheek against Damien's, flicking his tongue out beside his ear before he murmurs. "Old habits, I suppose. It is... hard to believe my good fortune, at times, with the pair of you."

Damien tilts his head to the side, kissing Arum's jaw, and then his cheek when the lizard exhales a pleased little breath.

"Well," Rilla says warmly, "maybe you'll be used to it by the next time Damien needs help shaving, yeah?"

Arum raises his head again with a laugh, and Damien feels Rilla's hand drift down his back as she leans to kiss Arum over his shoulder.

Arum lifts his hands to Damien's face, then, tilting his chin up so he may grace Damien with a kiss as well, the thin scaled line of his mouth pressing against Damien's lips with delicate care before he meets Damien's eyes with an affectionate smile.

And with Arum's cool palms cupping his tender cheeks, with Rilla's warm hand on the small of his back, Damien knows with utter certainty that he has entrusted his heart to the most worthy care in the world.

~

End Notes:  bless wikihow articles i have never shaved a face in my goddamn life, let alone with a straight razor

[damienthepious]

oh it’s that lizard KISSIN' tuesday!!!!

your sweet lips on my lips

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Lord Arum, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, (and i mean KISSIN), Established Relationship, Early Relationship, Kissing, Biting

Summary: Very early in their actual relationship, Rilla decides they really should figure out that whole kissing thing.

Notes: RIGHT ON HIS SCALY MOUTH!!!!!! LIZARD KISSIN', BABY!!!!!! back to my fucking roots for the (patron) finale day, and with a hozier lyric title, no less! OLD SCHOOL. Sorry i'm a little whacked out today. Bless loveyou bless. Oh right title from Like Real People Do. you knowwww.

~

Rilla perches on the very edge of her cushion, her knees folded beneath her, her eyes gleaming, and Damien, sitting across from her, beside Arum, struggles for a moment not to feel like a pinned specimen of moth-

And then he thinks better of it. She looks as if she might actually begin to take notes. The feeling is justified, he muses.

"Okay," she says. "Alright. Go on, then."

Damien nearly laughs despite the heat rising to his cheeks, and he manages to meet Rilla's hungry eyes for a moment before he needs to glance away and bite his lip. "Are you- are you certain that you would not like to- to- to join us, instead?"

"Oh," she laughs, "oh don't you worry about me, I'm still trying to work out best approaches. You, my brave Sir Poet, decided to just jump in, so I wanna see how you two work before I try anything myself." She pauses, raises an eyebrow at Arum. "If that's okay? I don't want to actually make you uncomfortable, if-"

"Oh, please, takatakataka," the monster grumbles. "You were watching the first time we-" he hesitates, his frill twitching enough to make a shivering noise of scales at his neck. "You were watching before," he corrects in a hiss, rolling his eyes unconvincingly, "I would hardly think your observation would be any cause for discomfort. Nevermind that I-"

He pauses again, for quite a bit longer, and when his throat begins to rumble with a worried sort of growl Damien reaches out, tentatively touching Arum's elbow. The monster glances up, then, his brow furrowed for a moment before his expression softens.

"I... I want the both of you here. Obviously. If it pleases you to watch-" he pauses again, as heat rushes to Damien's cheeks at his particular choice of phrasing, "... then I have no desire to stop you."

Rilla grins, both fond and predatory, and then she nods. "Good to know. So, get to it, will you?"

Arum scoffs, his frill half-rising around his face, and Damien bites his lip hard and drops his eyes, feeling nearly stunned with shyness, and then the lizard-

Arum glances towards him, nerves clear on his face, and then some determination slips into his expression instead, and he reaches out three hands, one to grip the front of Damien's shirt, two to cup his face, and then Arum sways closer.

"Well?" he murmurs as Damien gasps, gripping Arum's sides instinctively. "You wouldn't dare leave the little doctor waiting, would you?"

Damien manages a laugh, pinned by violet attention, feeling Rilla's gaze upon them as well, and then he tilts his head a little closer. "No, no... nor yourself, Lord Arum. I wouldn't dream of it."

He leans up, and his lips buzz with electricity as he brushes them gentle over Arum's thin mouth, the texture of his scales so utterly alluring, unfamiliar, fascinating. The monster inhales a sharp breath, whirring at the back of his throat just as he had done the first time Damien had gone up on his toes to kiss him. Damien reaches to brush his knuckles down the scales of Arum's frill experimentally, and Arum gasps again, that ticking rumble going louder.

Damien presses closer, moving his hand to cup the monster's cheek, humming against Arum's mouth, and then when he pulls back away to check Arum's face the monster sighs gently, his mouth curling into a smile.

Oh, my heart, Damien thinks, and then, so beautiful a creature, so sweet to let me-

He turns his head enough to catch Rilla's eyes, pleasure stinging deep in his stomach at the flushed, attentive look on her face.

"Are we providing sufficient data for you to work with, my darling flower?" he asks in a murmur, and Arum chuckles and tucks his face closer against Damien's neck- lazily hiding from Rilla's eyes, Damien realizes, with his frill flaring higher.

"I'm getting some pretty good ideas, I think," she says. Her expression is smug, still, but Damien knows her well enough to hear the subtle waver in her voice, to see the way she clenches her hands. "I'll show you all of them when it's my turn."

Damien laughs, and Arum peers around to give Rilla a fond sort of glare.

"You," he says flatly, "are a terrible influence."

"Saints I hope so," Rilla breathes, and Damien takes advantage of Arum's position to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Arum hisses again, turning his attention back towards Damien and exhaling through clenched teeth as if holding himself back before he leans a little closer, allowing Damien to kiss him again, cupping his face with tender care.

"Mm, all sorts of good ideas," Rilla says, her tone wavering just the littlest bit more noticeably. "And that- that works for you, then, Arum? That feels… good?"

Arum pants a breath, something between a hiss and a laugh, and then shoots Rilla a look. "It is... it is certainly something. Ridiculous, but- but not- not disagreeable. Probably a better idea than what I would like to do, anyway-"

Her eyes flash, bright with curiosity, and Arum stops and swallows at the force of her attention.

"What... what would you prefer to do, Lord Arum?" Damien asks quietly, a little abashed that perhaps the kissing had not been as pleasant to the monster as he had hoped, as pleasant as it was for Damien himself, and Arum's eyes flick back to meet his own.

"Don't," he says gently, and then he nudges his snout into Damien's lips again. When Damien sinks into the kiss, drawing his hand down Arum's neck, the lizard whirs at the back of his mouth, a whispery pleased noise, and when Damien pulls back Arum nudges his snout into Damien's cheek instead. "I only meant that- damn you for being so unutterably tempting, honeysuckle. I can hardly match your lips with mine as Amaryllis could-"

"I really don't think that matters all that much," Rilla interrupts wryly, though Damien can hear the edge of tension and delight tinging her voice brighter. "From what I can see, at least."

"I only want to... to make you feel as you make me feel," Damien says, and he knows his voice has gone a little keening despite himself as Arum tucks his face against his neck again.

"I want-" Arum inhales, exhales, growls at himself. "This close, I- your taste makes me want to bite you, honeysuckle," Arum says in a rush, and Damien can feel Arum's teeth tickle at his throat as the monster speaks. "Not- not that I-"

Damien does not think he has ever before wanted to be bitten quite so desperately.

"I don't want you to think that I- that I want to- to hurt-"

Damien tilts his head to the side, resisting the urge to actually press his neck into Arum's mouth, whispers please with little enough breath that he is uncertain if Arum can hear him, but-

But after a heartbeat Arum growls low, helpless, and nips quick and light at the crook of Damien's neck, and then he flicks his tongue out and tickles the same spot. Damien gasps, squeaks a laugh at the contact, and then Arum presses his teeth to Damien's skin again. The second bite is somewhat harder, and Damien cannot help but whine outright.

Arum exhales a panting breath against Damien's neck, then lifts his face to meet Damien's eyes again.

Whatever he finds there, the monster must be pleased with it. He smiles (Damien's heart skips, Damien could float in the air, Damien wants to see every single gentle expression this monster hides beneath frown and scowl), and then he presses his mouth to Damien's again, soft and quick and sweet.

Arum glances towards Rilla, then, and when he breathes a smug laugh Damien follows his gaze.

Rilla's expression has gone hazy, one hand fisted in front of her mouth, her lower lip pulled between her teeth, and Damien laughs as well.

"Shall we continue, love?" Damien murmurs, drawing a hand down Arum's cheek, tracing a line down his throat and watching the way that Rilla's eyes follow the motion. "Is further demonstration in order?"

She stares for another moment, and then blinks. "Wh-what? Sorry. What?"

Arum barks another laugh, surprised and fond, and Damien presses his own lips together tight and clings to Arum's shoulders to stop himself from following along with the monster as Rilla shakes her head and scowls, and then she starts to crawl closer.

"Okay," Rilla says, all bossy bluster. "Okay! I think that's enough notes! I've gathered a lot of important data and the first conclusion I've come to is- okay stop laughing come here my turn-"

She grips Arum's shoulder firm in one hand, kneeling above him and tilting his chin up with the other as she crowds close to kiss him without further preamble, and-

Damien laughs again, despite her words. If the way that Arum shivers and melts into Rilla's kiss is any indication, Damien supposes that the demonstration was rather instructive, in fact.

[damienthepious]

no lizard this tuesday. have some pre-canon rilla/damien smoochin and discussion of [checks notes] uh death!!! it’s fun!!! im stress’d

No Aching Necessary

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Tuesday, Established Relationship, (im POSTING this for LKT but i won't put it in the tag because arum ain't here.), (maybe if i ever pin down a follow up for this feat. the lizard? perhaps.), self-sacrificing idiot vibes, Mild Suicidal Ideation, Pre-Canon, Communication, discussions of uhhhh death

Summary: Sir Damien feels love like self-immolation. Rilla feels a little bit differently about it.

Notes: I've had this idea for a while, because Sir Damien is nothing if not dramatic, and sir "self sacrifice is a knightly virtue!" seemed like the type to say this particular phrase on repeat. Basically just wanted to unpack all that I guess?? anywayyyy no thoughts brain scrampled egg. also this may have a part two someday? maybe? idk. there's potential.

~

Love, for Sir Damien, feels...

Eternal, and holy, and sacrificial. As in, it sounds of yet another litany in his mind, alongside the song of prayer to Saint Damien, alongside pleas for Tranquility, alongside fear and doubt and fortitude. I love you becomes too big for itself, it transforms, rather quickly, into-

"I would die for you."

Rilla stares at him the first time he says it, furrowing her brow, her dark eyes filled with concern. He kisses her frowning lips, gentle and aching, and when she kisses back her grip is possessive, firm, sturdy, and Damien melts against her as easy as wax beneath the flame.

The second time it bubbles out of him in helpless delight. She rolls her eyes and squeezes his hand almost too hard as she pulls him along to the next booth at the festival, distracting him with games and laughter until the throbbing of his heart eases into something more like joy.

The third time she only says I'll see you tomorrow, Damien, and glares hard at his back as he returns to the Citadel.

The fourth time he presses their bodies together and breathes it against her lips and-

She rolls him onto his back, sinking her teeth into his bottom lip and making him squeak and gasp, and when she pulls back she presses one hand to each of his shoulders, and the fury on her face is nearly thunderous.

"What's that thing you keep calling me, Damien?" she asks, inarguable and stern.

Damien blinks, panting as he stares up at her in confusion and desire and, suddenly, rising worry.

"Wh-what?"

"What is it that you call me? That romantic, poetic little name you have," she repeats, moving one hand from his shoulder to his neck, thumbing at his pulse.

"I…" Damien swallows, feeling her hand against the column of his throat. "M-my- my forever-flower?" he tries, his voice weak and wavering, and Rilla's eyes flash as the hand on his shoulder squeezes.

"If I'm yours," she says, her dark eyes utterly serious, her gaze inescapable, "your flower, then you're mine, Damien."

"Always," Damien breathes, and she blinks for half a heartbeat, apparently not expecting his easy (eager) acquiescence.

She shifts even closer, her voice lowering in both volume and tone. "You're mine," she says again. "And I intend to keep you, for as long as I am physically capable."

"A-ah." Damien's heart thuds, some delicious thrill at the idea of being kept. That she would- that she does want him, that she wants him enough to say things like that-

"Which means," she continues, her palm still warm against his throat as her other hand sinks into his hair, her nails tickling his scalp, "you need to stick around to be mine. I don't wanna hear you say anything like that to me. Understand?"

"But... but it's true, my love. I would die for-"

"You'd better not," she growls - growls, her eyes flashing, and a delicious shiver runs down Damien's spine - and her grip on his hair tightens, carefully angling his face up so that he looks her in the eye. "I want you, I love you, and I don't want anything to do with you dying."

"Rilla..." Damien swallows, looking down and away for a moment before he meets Rilla's eye again, hesitant. "You know, of course... I am a knight, my love, my flower. Each day, each mission is a risk. I take those risks willingly, knowing that I face potential fatality for the sake of my Saint and my Citadel. And, now... for you."

Rilla frowns hard, and then she kisses him harder, her hands firm and inarguable in his hair and on his neck for one long, searing moment before she pulls away again, and some of that righteousness on her face fades, her brow creased with distress.

"There's a difference between understanding the mortality rate of your career and you, apropos of nothing, claiming that you wanna throw your dead body at my feet, Damien. It's not romantic, it's not comforting, and I don't want to hear you say it. Why would you think that I would want to hear you say that? No one is asking you to die for me. I want you. I love you. And I can't fucking love you if you're dead, and especially not if you're dead for no goddamn reason."

"I never said-" Damien pants, his words slipping from his mind like trying to snatch a ribbon from the current of a river. "Not for no reason, it isn't as if-"

"Would you want me to say that?" she says, her voice almost- almost keening, beneath her frustration. "Do you want me to be eager to die for you?"

Damien lifts his hands, gripping Rilla's sides as if to keep her there.

"There is no reason whatsoever for you to even consider-"

"You can't know that for sure. Neither of us can. It isn't just your job that's dangerous Damien, it's the whole damn world. So, what if I do? What if I want to die for you, too? Does that make you feel good about our relationship?"

"I- well, I-"

"Does it make you feel good to think about me dying for you, or does it make you feel terrified?"

Terrified. Needless to say.

Needless, of course; Rilla's glare eases at the look on his face, at the way he freezes beneath her hands like startled prey.

"Exactly," she says, muted and gentle, and then she draws her hand through his hair, her other raising enough to cup his jaw. "I know... I know that being a knight is dangerous. I know because of how many times I've had to put one back together. Even just by how many times I've had to put you back together, even. I know- I know, intellectually, that losing you-"

She pauses, her breath doing something strange, her dark eyes too bright, suddenly.

"Rilla..."

She scowls as he wraps his arms around her middle. "I know it's a possibility. I know it's- likely, even," she says more fiercely. "But that doesn't mean I want to hear you say it, and it doesn't mean I want you to sound so goddamn eager to die. Got it?"

"I'm- I'm not- I don't-"

Eagerness does not come into it. Damien knows, though-

Damien knows what Rilla knows. As she has just quietly, sadly confirmed. The life of a knight is risk, inherent. More accurately, the life of a knight is sacrifice: his own safety in exchange for the protection of the citizens of the Citadel. The same exchange Sir Damien promised, in his heart, so many years ago to his Saint. It is likely, extremely likely, that Sir Damien will die in the service of his Saint and his Citadel.

And Rilla-

Rilla. Kneeling above him, curled down to place her forehead against his own, holding his face in her hands.

He would die for her. His heart aches for her, resounds like a bell in his chest, and he would die for her just as readily as he would die for his Saint, or his Queen. That is what she means to him, her equivalent place in his heart, what she does to him. He-

She bites his collarbone, sharp and sudden, and Damien yelps.

"Rilla!"

"You were thinking it again," she mutters, darkly, and then she kisses that same spot, feather light. "I just- I love you too much to hear you care so little about yourself." She lifts her face towards his, then, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Please. If you love me-"

"I do. My love for you burns like a wildfire, races like a waterfall, it fills me like-"

"Then you have to look out for yourself too, because I love you. And- and I can't always be there to watch your back and patch you back up. It's important to me that you're not- not trying to destroy yourself to prove a point about how much you-"

"Never," Damien breathes. He holds her a little tighter, then reaches to draw his hand through her hair. "No, that isn't... that isn't what I meant. I acknowledge the- the mortality rate, as you called it, but- but I hope, at least, to die nobly in my purpose. There would be no such end in reckless inattention to my safety. I swear."

Rilla frowns - nearly pouts, perhaps - and then she sighs as she bumps the tip of her nose into his cheek. "Alright. Okay. Thank you for... for listening. I know how- how much you feel, it's just- I can't do that. I can't hear you say that, especially not- not like you're saying it instead of... I just can't. Okay?"

"I understand," Damien says. "I will try to... to find more agreeable - less distressing, rather - ways in which to express my adoration."

Uncertain, whether or not he will be able to banish the thought from his mind, however. Occasionally it blinds him, when he looks at her, the breathlessness of his love, the need to protect and worship and bend himself to her merest desire-

But-

She desires, in no mere way, for him to be safe and whole, and holding her.

It still roils within him like a tempest, like waves and rocks and thunder, love like roaring and electricity.

But for her-

(Tranquility)

Sir Damien kisses her brow, kisses her neck, kisses her nose to make her wrinkle it and laugh.

Rilla loves him: miracle. Rilla loves him, like blankets and safety and hearth. Like sunshine, and laughing wind.

The soldier sings of death, as it walks ever by his side, but home- home will not abide such talk while the soldier rests inside.

He purses his lips. Unpolished, not without potential-

"I guess that's one way to think about it," Rilla murmurs, her cheeks a little dark, and Damien starts with the realization that he spoke aloud.

"Er- ah, well-"

"You really think of me as-" she pauses, bites her lip, then meets his eye again. "As... home?"

Damien exhales, overwhelmed by the strangely shy pleasure on Rilla's face, and then he tips his face up to capture her lips in another kiss.

"I do," he breathes, and then he kisses her again. "My forever-flower, my love... my home. Of course, my home."

"It- I think of you that way too," she whispers, and then she closes her eyes. "That's... why, I think. That's why it's hard for me to hear you say things like that. I know bad things happen, I know that homes- I know that things break. I just... don't like the reminder, I guess. I don't need it. I already learned that lesson too many times, y'know?"

Amaryllis of Exile looks down at him with a hesitant smile, her hand on his cheek scented vaguely of mint and smoke. Damien knows, yes. He knows what she has lost. He kisses her again, gentle and precious.

He loves her, and he knows that she loves him. So brave a love, in fact, that she will hold him and know she may lose him, and she will love him all the more fiercely in response.

[damienthepious]

choo choo the tuesday train is off the fucking rails again. today we discuss a lizard kiss and alas, no one dances this time.

Even With Missteps (chapter 4)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ao3] [?????]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien, Lord Arum/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, (other characters mentioned)

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Dancing, Costume Parties & Masquerades

Summary:  There is a masquerade ball in the Citadel tonight. Every knight and citizen has turned out, and all of them bear disguises of monstrosity. What better time could there be, for a monster who needs to find a way inside?

Chapter Summary They agreed to determine the terms of their "duel" outside. There is quite a lot to sort out, in that determination.

Chapter Notes: a) i don't know what the fuhuck is happening anymore and i continue to be terrified that this has yeeted itself WILDLY out of character but HWAT CAN YOU DO b) this feels like a messssssss c) i might come back and edit it when Better Brain? but for now this i guess d) oops! all dialogue, basically e) i'm so stressed out i hope anyone enjoys thiis lmao

~

The night air is cool and clear, and after the oppressive closeness of the ballroom it hits Arum's lungs like a knife, shocking and sobering.

"Well, Sir Damien?" he asks blankly, his gaze aimed carefully away from the pair of them. "Shall we discuss the terms of our duel, now?"

"Why are you not- running? I was certain that the moment we were free of the ballroom you would-"

"Present my back for you to plant your arrows in?" Arum hisses, wrinkling his snout beneath his mask. "Hardly."

"I-" Damien sputters, cheeks darkening. "I would never conduct myself so dishonorably-"

"If I attempted to run for my life in that ballroom, you are claiming that you would not have shot me?" Arum says with a sneer, crossing his unhidden arms over his chest.

"I- I-" the knight pauses, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he sighs. "I do not know what I would have done, in truth. I was terrified. Terrified to see-" he cuts himself off again, glancing towards Rilla.

"Sorry, am I a part of this conversation now?" she asks, frowning and raising an eyebrow.

"Rilla," Damien breathes, his voice achingly gentle, and Arum's stomach twists. "I am so glad that you are safe, oh, my flower-"

"We've talked about this, Damien, I can take care of myself, and jealousy is a nasty look on you-"

Arum barks a laugh he cannot help, and then he waves a hand in the air as if to banish the thought. "The pretty little knight is not jealous of me, little phoenix," he manages with a derisive snort. "He thought I would hurt you. A reasonable fear, considering."

"Considering what, exactly? It's not like I let one of the journeymen spin me around and step on my feet for a whole song or something. You aren't from around here, but what the hell does that matter? I'm the exiled fucking herbalist, I don't really care about ruining my reputation by dancing with a foreigner. You were a perfect gentleman until Damien decided to make an ass-"

Arum's spine stiffens, his hackles raising beneath his disguise as he compulsively hisses. Amaryllis seems to take this as a signal of some sort, because she lets her voice trail off, tilting her head in a question.

"We have an audience," Arum growls, and then he jerks his head subtly to the side, indicating the loudly whispering crowd hovering on the balcony above and behind him. "I would prefer not to hold a conversation this delicate under such absurd scrutiny."

"If we do not have this conversation now, I imagine that we never will," Damien says, sounding stiff and flat with one hand still clutched around his bow. "They are distant enough that they will only be able to hear us if we shout, so provided you can hold your tongue-"

Arum gives another short, helpless laugh.

"... we will not be overheard."

"This," Arum growls, "is absolutely ludicrous, in all aspects. What now, honeysuckle? Do we pretend to fight, or did you have some other brilliant excuse for our behavior all lined up?"

"Pretend?" Amaryllis asks with a raised brow. "So that was all acting, in there?"

"Not... all," Damien says, visibly uncomfortable.

"If I wanted to fight him, I would have done so upstairs," Arum spits irritably, and then he winces at his own words. "Rather-"

Amaryllis presses a hand over her mouth, then something between realization and delight crosses her face. "You- you were the intruder? Okay, alright, what the fuck." She shakes her head, waving both hands in front of herself as if to physically clear the air. "This is- a lot. Do either of you want to actually explain what the hell all that was? You went from actually furious to pretending to be furious in about four seconds and I still don't know why."

"No," Arum hisses, looking away, and he sees Damien look the opposite direction out of the corner of his eye.

"It- the situation- it is rather complicated, my flower-"

"It is not," Arum insists, scowling.

"Wow," she says, pursing her lips. "You are much more irritable when you aren't dancing."

"Imagine my utter shock to find that I miss your ridiculous human prancing, if this conversation is the alternative."

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed to more dancing, Arum. Especially since it seemed like you were having just as much fun with it as-" she pauses mid-word, blinks, and then she says, "... human?"

Arum flinches. If the motion at the edge of his vision is an indication, Damien does as well.

"You said that earlier, too- I thought it was just a bad joke, but-"

"Oh, you know perfectly well, little phoenix. You knew something was wrong with me, you were opening your mouth to question me about it when your knight began yelling for you." Arum stands straighter, taller, more stiffly, and hisses low enough that he knows that his words will not carry beyond their little circle. "I am not human."

Amaryllis looks at Damien, first, clearly concerned, and then her expression shifts to confusion when Damien does not react except to stare down miserably at his own feet. She scans Arum, her eyes raking over his body, stopping to study his hands, the shape of his feet, his "false" tail, and then she looks to Damien again.

"And you- Saints, you knew that. And you aren't- you aren't jumping to kill him?"

Damien presses his lips together very, very tightly, and looks away. "Well- I... I did, but-"

"But you stopped."

Damien bites his own lip hard, then nods. "I did."

"Don't pat yourself on the back too hard, honeysuckle."

"No, no," she says quickly, and her tone is theoretically light, but Arum can hear a stunned sort of vagueness beneath it. "That's- that's pretty fucking unexpected, actually. Back-patting probably justified."

The laugh chokes out of Arum, and Damien laughs as well, looking just as shocked about it as Arum feels.

"Why are you so unconcerned, then?" he grumbles. "I certainly don't understand him, either, but that doesn't mean I have the flimsiest idea why you are not screaming right now, little phoenix."

"What are you doing here?" she says instead, ignoring his concerns. "I can't think of a more dangerous place for a monster to be-"

Arum snorts, folding his arms over his chest. "I certainly wouldn't be if I had a choice. This entire evening has been teetering on the knife's edge of disaster and I would rather be safe at home working, but-"

"So," Amaryllis says insistently, "what are you doing here?"

"I already told you," he snarls, looking aside.

"A job?" she asks incredulously, and Damien's face splits into confusion. "I figured that was just-"

"A job I am regretting more and more by the moment. If I had any other choice-"

"You said something like that inside, too," she says, and Arum blinks. "Something you gotta do so you can go home and take care of your family. Right?"

"That," Arum says stiffly, "is none of your concern. My business, my lands, my home- my commitments are not yours to interrogate."

"Well," she says dryly, "if you didn't want to keep talking to us, nothing's stopping you from just bowing out now, Arum."

She pauses, pointed, staring at him with her arms crossed over her chest, imperious in her flame-shaded costume, and Arum clenches his jaw, because-

Yes, he may leave, now. He may retreat from the strange confluence of luck and disaster of this event, this evening. He may slink back to his Keep, but-

When he leaves the glow of the human Citadel, he will be left alone in the dark with only the knowledge of his encroaching doom to accompany him home. The Senate will not forgive his failure to bind his prototype to the Queen. Moreso, they will not forgive his survival of his failure.

Arum's refusal to destroy Sir Damien when he had the chance may have sealed his own death as surely as if Damien had loosed that arrow regardless. This middling path of mercy will careen into consequences, when the sun rises again, when light shines on Arum's choices. Arum should have killed Damien and claimed his prize, or Arum should have died.

(He tries not to think about the prize Damien claimed from him, instead.)

Arum drops Amaryllis' gaze.

"It does not matter," he says. "My business here is-" he meets Damien's eyes without meaning to, then lowers his eyes again. "It is over. Perhaps you are right. I- if the knight does not intend to destroy me the moment my back is turned-"

"I would not," Damien insists. "What are you?" he asks, and Arum blinks in confusion before he continues. "What manner of beast- what sort of creature are you, that you refuse to fight?"

"A pragmatic one," Arum snaps, half-believing it. "I do not fear a fight, but I will not throw myself upon the arrow."

"A pragmatic monster would have slit my throat when I was foolish enough to let you take me in your arms again! Would have killed me when there would be no one to see, no one to stop you! A monster- any sort of monster- what manner of beast are you that would spend such effort to- to seduce me, to charm me with clever words and gentle embrace and the murmur of song- what monstrous enchantment did you intend to work upon me?"

"Oh- my seduction?" Arum says, stunned to incredulousness again. "My enchantments? As if your conflict is my fault, of course- I can imagine well enough the sorts of excuses you wish to conjure, the fabricated idea of some sort of- of poison upon my lips, some curse I've passed to you-"

"You did not taste like poison," Damien whispers, and Arum's throat tightens too much for words.

Arum remembers Amaryllis beside them, and Damien seems to come to the same memory at the same moment, his eyes darting to his fiance, watching them both with her eyebrow raised.

"Taste, huh?"

"Fear not for your claim," Arum says quickly. "Certainly he would not have requested a kiss had he known what I am."

"Requested?" she asks, her tone baffled but not angry, and Damien's cheeks flush far too dark as he shakes his head furiously.

"I- I- regardless, regardless I simply don't understand why you did not leave," Damien says pleadingly. "You could have escaped, we need not have seen each other again-"

"He was leaving, Damien," Amaryllis says smoothly, though the look on her face makes it rather obvious that she's allowing him to shift the subject. "But I wanted to have a chat and a dance and I didn't really give him much of a choice in the matter."

Arum scowls, irritated by the implication that he could not have done as he pleased to leave on his own terms, but-

Well. He cannot exactly claim that her description of the events is inaccurate.

"We were heading for the exit when you saw us," she continues. "It probably wouldn't have done him any good to make a fuss at the door, considering. You did that, Damien."

"Alright," Damien says, shaking his head. "Very well, I- I know that... that my Rilla is rather... undeniable, when she decides upon a course of action."

Arum swallows, looking away, unwilling to agree with words.

"But that does not explain- you did not move when I- when I saw you. You knew I could kill you. You knew it was my duty to kill you." Damien stares up at him, his brow furrowed as his eyes dart between Arum's own. "Why did you not fight back? Why did you say- why did you call me- why did you ask me to-"

"Because I was certain I was about to die," Arum snaps, "and I wished for my final words to be honest ones."

"Why not defend yourself?"

Arum stares at Damien, a growl rising in his chest, holding his tail so carefully stiff so it does not thrash as it wishes to with the force of his frustration. "How many knights would you estimate were in that ballroom, Sir Damien?" he asks, his voice controlled despite the undercurrent of fury, and Damien's expression falls. "What good would it have done, if I had harmed her? Harmed you? There was only one creature in that room that could have saved my life in that moment, and that creature was not me. Could I have brought either of you down with me? Almost certainly. It would not have saved me. It would not have done anything but shatter more of this world for the sake of this ridiculous war." Arum sneers, breathless and flexing his claws. "What of you, knight? You knew what I am. You knew that I could kill her- kill you. Why did you not slay me?"

Damien swallows, his own hands flexing on his bow again, and then he-

He stows his bow away on his back, and he presses his hand over his heart.

"Because... because you asked me to forgive you," Damien says softly, and Arum winces, and then looks away. "An obfuscated apology, but... an apology nonetheless. An indication of guilt, or- acknowledgment of a mistake, at the very least, and- and-"

He lifts his eyes, catches Arum's helpless gaze with his own, and it feels like the pull of tides, both natural and undeniable.

"Honeysuckle..."

"You are unlike any monster I have ever known. There is something- something human in your eyes."

"You-" Arum's heart skips oddly, and he tries to laugh to obscure how pinned he feels. "You do not know me," he manages, his voice rough. "You- you have only convinced yourself of my humanity because that is what you believed me to be when we met."

Arum stalks stiffly around the pair of them, maneuvering so his back is to the slowly thinning crowd on the balcony.

"Do not fool yourself," he says, and then he raises his hands to lift his mask. "I am very much a monster, and when you are done pretending to be this little basilisk, when the monstrousness fades from your own eyes, I will still be myself."

"Oh," Amaryllis says, and when Arum flicks his eyes towards her she looks- unafraid. Her eyes are bright, curious, and Arum stiffens as she steps a little closer. "Damn, that's- that's so clever, though! And your horns- just sticking up through the back? Saints that's clever, I bet they didn't even look twice when you came in-"

Arum's frill shivers at his neck, the wash of confused smugness and embarrassment mixing in his guts. "Of course they didn't. Little fools believe they may make costume of my kind and yet they cannot recognize us in truth."

"And the tail," she says, her voice raising in delight, and when she leans to get a better look she reaches a hand to touch his elbow, and he hisses, skipping back a step. She pauses, her expression calm and- almost indulgent, and then she drops her hand. "You had me in your arms back inside the party, Arum. I'm not going to hurt you."

Arum exhales a stunned, incredulous laugh. "You- you hurt me? Of all the absurd-"

"Arum," she says, and now the indulgence is clear in her smile. "Why would I be afraid of you?"

"Because," Arum snarls, and then he remembers their audience in time to lower his voice again, "I am a monster, you reckless little fool. Because we are enemies. Because I could kill you as easily as this."

He moves, quicker than he should, perhaps, lifting a hand to grip her throat-

(He does not think about how he keeps his claws away from her skin, how he does not squeeze. He does not think about the heat of her pulse, the rhythm against his palm. He does not think about the way his stomach twists as Sir Damien tenses in his periphery.)

Amaryllis blinks, surprised by his speed if nothing else, but then her smile returns, undaunted.

"Sorry to burst your bubble," she says, lifting her own hand towards his own, "but I'm pretty used to hanging around dangerous people."

"I-" Arum exhales, almost a laugh. "I'm not-"

"The gloves are a nice touch," she says, and Arum shivers helplessly when she runs her palm down the back of his hand, still smiling. "Elegant and practical."

He pulls his hand back quickly, still careful of his claws, his scales tingling in the aftermath of her touch as he curls his fist against his own chest instead.

"Stop- stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

Like she wishes to take him apart, or eat him up. He swallows.

"Stop," he repeats. "This is nonsense. Madness. We are at war, you cannot pretend-"

"You apparently had the choice tonight to kill my fiance, or to not kill him," she says, her voice shedding the playfulness, going precise and pointed. "And apparently in that pretty binary choice you decided on the third option, which was to make out with him."

"That-" Arum sputters, and Damien beside them buries his face in his hands, making a pained noise. "That is not- accurate, you can hardly call one single-"

"And you still aren't running," she muses, tilting her head. "Why? Why stick around?"

"Because," he spits, "I have failed thoroughly enough that I cannot say what fate I will cast myself into when I return home. Because I do not know how to leave, knowing that this-" he gestures viciously towards Damien, who has only just unburied his face from his hands, and his eyes widen, "creature chose to defend me rather than destroy me twice and I do not know why. I refuse to take your pity if that is what it is, honeysuckle. I despise your mercy. Am I supposed to be content to walk away, owing you my life, burdened by that debt?"

"I- I simply could not- I could not kill you," Damien says weakly, his distress a nearly palpable crackle of electricity around him. "I could not kill you- I- I could not- it felt- all I could think was-"

"Your duty?" Arum sneers.

"Your mouth upon mine," Damien whispers, and Arum's next complaint dies on his tongue. "Your eyes in the dark. Your humor, your charm, your- your attitude, sharp as a blade, and- and the idea of snuffing that light- of killing you or revealing you and watching the room descend upon you, the violence of a mob- of destroying you before I understood- who you are, what you are- how you could be so different from- how you could be a monster, how you could speak to the heart of me like a man- and yet-"

"Breathe, Damien," Amaryllis says quietly, leaning to press a hand to Damien's arm, and he obeys, closing his eyes as he inhales sharply, and then his exhale comes more calm.

"I- I understand monsterkind, their threat, their evil-" he pauses, winces. "I thought- I thought that I did, but you- you are different. How could I kill you? How could I- how could I destroy a monster who is so unlike everything I have been taught? Who is so- so unlike every evil creature which lurks in shadow and despair? How could a monster hold me, charm me, warm me-"

"Nonsense," Arum hisses, his heart racing. "I've heard enough of this. I- your little phoenix is correct, there is no reason for me not to- to leave. Plant your arrows where you will, it makes no difference to me if I die by your hand or by-" that of the Senate. "By whatever other fate the Universe intends for me."

Arum pulls his mask back down, gives the slightest, stiffest of mocking little bows, and then he turns with his cape billowing in his wake to stalk back into the shadows of the city, where he can disappear back to his Keep and nurse his failure in privacy.

"Aw, coward!"

Arum freezes at the distant shouting voice, glancing over his shoulder just enough to see- yes, of course, the fools on the balcony haven't yet dispersed entirely. He had been hoping, when the three of them failed to provide entertainment-

"Knock him out, Sir Damien!"

Another voice, this time, followed by a series of encouraging jeers, and Amaryllis slaps an exasperated hand to her face as Sir Damien's cheeks darken. Arum considers them for another moment, considers the crowd of fools above them, and then turns away again.

The jeers redouble in volume and vehemence, and Arum's shoulders stiffen, though he attempts to ignore the lot of them until he feels a touch at his elbow.

He spins, and Sir Damien stands at his back, a wince twisting his face as Arum snarls down at him. "Now you mean to stop me?"

"No- no I only- here." He lifts another hand out, a gesture Arum has seen from humans before. "Shake my hand. Show we are parting peaceably and perhaps they will-"

"Perhaps they will be even more disappointed by the lack of bloodshed?" Arum says with a sneer. "They do not care that we are parting peaceably, little basilisk, they care that they are not getting a show."

Arum slaps Damien's hand away, a point of contact that is carefully gentle but deliberately loud, and the crowd hoots. Arum rolls his eyes, and then gives a small pointed gesture since Sir Damien cannot see his face any longer.

"That- but-"

"Tomorrow, Sir Damien," Arum lies, projecting his voice enough to carry to the balcony. "We will end this."

Damien's eyes widen, and then some calculation crosses his face. He- nods, and then with equal force he echoes, "Tomorrow."

Arum glares down at the knight, at the curious determination on his curious, striking face, and then he raises his eyes to Amaryllis for just long enough to give her a nod as well, acknowledgment as she raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him in turn.

Baffling creatures, he thinks again, but when he tries to turn away again Damien's hand on his elbow squeezes, and the human leans closer.

"At Saint Damien's Bells," he says quietly. "Outside the western gate. Midnight. Tomorrow."

"You-" Arum blinks, thinks baffling creatures again with more vehemence, and then says, "You wish to duel me in truth? After all that-"

"No," he says quickly. "No- I only- I still do not understand, Arum. I wish to- to speak with you again. I do not wish for this evening to end and be left only with the pale glow of my own memory to convince me- to haunt me-"

"I do not care what you understand, little basilisk," Arum hisses, and Damien releases his grip with an injured look. "Tomorrow you will not need to play the monster anymore. Tomorrow you will be a knight, and you and your fellow soldiers will return to slaying that which you play at being tonight. If your memory is so fragile a thing, then bury it. Break it. Forget whatever nonsense you think you see in my eyes and take up your bow again."

Damien's eyes are- oddly bright in the cool dark night, and as his shoulders slump Arum swallows uncomfortably and does not feel guilty.

"You said that you owed Damien a debt," Amaryllis says, pointedly. "Your life. Twice over, if I understand you correctly."

Arum clenches his jaw, ducking his head very slightly at the determination curving her painted lips beneath her beak. "What of it?" he mutters.

"Just- meet us again," she says, and the way Damien glances towards her hints that perhaps the knight did not anticipate that his fiance intended to join in his rendezvous. "It's a simple enough request, isn't it? Just- another conversation, where we won't need to worry about being watched, and then you won't be burdened by your debt anymore. Is that fair?"

More than fair. An utterly, wildly simple request to fulfill in exchange for his own life.

If it isn't a trap, that is.

"... very well," Arum says slowly. "If you would call us even for that... more the fool you are. Very well. Tomorrow."

He bows again as they echo him, Damien with a weak, wondering voice, and Amaryllis with a small snort of laughter, and this time when he straightens and spins to walk away, he does not allow his steps to falter.

Beneath the mask, no one can see the relief that crosses his face, that he will see them again.

[damienthepious]

chuesday. they’re all still stressed! alas...

Going Through Changes, Ripping Out Pages (chapter 9)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ch 7] [ch 8] [ao3] [ch 10] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

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

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, (uhhhhh sorta), Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, (WE WILL GET THERE…… EVENTUALLY)

Summary: Lord Arum wakes to discover that some things have changed while he slept. Namely, there is a human in his bed.

Chapter Summary: Morning. A little less violent, this time.

Chapter Notes: A bit of a short chapter, but only because I wanted to give the second half a bit more attention, so it wound up getting split into two parts. How many chapters will this end up being? Don't worry about it. We'll find that answer together.

~

Arum doesn't quite manage sleep again, after that. Despite the warmth, despite the lulling softness of their breath, their heartbeats. Damien falls back to unconsciousness, though, after a surprisingly short amount of time. Perhaps he is too exhausted not to. Perhaps the sleep is easier to bear than the sorrow.

Arum still tastes the salt on the air, the remaining tracks on Damien's cheeks. The other unfamiliar scents are… disconcertingly comfortable. More vivid, more present than the lingering hints in his own sheets, in his own bed- leather, ink, feathers, herbs, soft skin, some gentle soap that clings to their hair-

Arum presses his eyes closed, breathes slow to match their sleeping rhythms. It does little good.

(Amaryllis' mouth pressing hot against his own, her scent sharp with hope and desperation-)

(Damien's lips, trailing up from his heart, up his throat-)

He squeezes his eyes shut, though it does nothing to banish the thought of the look on Damien's face, when he realized that he was not kissing his monster.

Arum does not sleep again, but he forces himself not to move until he senses the earliest diurnal creatures of his swamp beginning to stir at the distant edges of his consciousness. He thinks, judging by how long that takes, that he managed a few decent hours before he and Damien woke. Not an unreasonable amount of sleep, for Arum in the midst of a project. He is uncertain whether or not this… endeavor counts as a project, exactly.

He shifts the covers aside as carefully as he is able. Rilla- Amaryllis does not stir. There is a heaviness to her sleep that Arum almost envies. Damien shifts when Arum does, though he does not wake this time. He simply curls towards the warmth that stays beside him when Arum retreats, curling along Amaryllis' side and sighing into her shoulder.

It is better, Arum thinks, that he is not here when they wake. Between his own confusion the morning before and Damien's half-drowsing embrace- better not to repeat either incident, or to invite some new unpleasantness.

Sir Damien fits so easily, tucked against Amaryllis' side as if they were a statue carved from a single block of stone. Arum shakes his head, and silently instructs the Keep to close the portal behind him, leaving them to their rest.

He frowns when he is safely away, and then he sighs.

"Keep," he murmurs, and the rotten plant pretends to begin to pay attention to him, as if it has not been quietly fretting in the back of his mind for the last few hours. "I imagine… I imagine they will wake soon enough. Prepare something to keep them fed, since you apparently know their tastes so well."

The Keep murmurs an assent, and a gentle addition, and Arum rolls his eyes.

"If I must," he grumbles. "You will forgive me if I am concerned for my mind before my body, Keep."

It warbles something dismissive, denying the separation, and Arum fights the urge to roll his eyes again.

"Fine," he says. "Fine. The lot of us will think better on a full stomach anyway. Prepare some tea, as well."

~

Rilla wakes to the familiar feeling of Damien's hand caressing slowly, gently up and down her arm, and she knows before she even opens her eyes that Arum isn't still in bed with them. She knows, too, that Damien's thoughts are a million miles away, because he doesn't notice that she's waking, and as she blinks the sleep from her eyes enough to focus on his expression, she can see that his gaze is focused, troubled, distant.

Rilla feels… better. Better than the night before, that is, not that that's a high bar or anything. Waking up with Damien wrapped around her certainly helps, even if he looks totally distracted.

She leans up and kisses his neck, gratified when he jolts and then breathes a laugh, and he squeezes her tighter in his arms.

"Ah- my flower, I hope I did not-"

"If you're up and Arum's already out of bed too, I should definitely be awake," Rilla manages through an insistent urge to yawn, and Damien's mouth curls wryly. "It's not the sort of day I should be oversleeping for. Are you… okay? You looked like… I don't know."

Damien ducks his head. "Well…" he bites his lip, then looks away for a moment, and Rilla's stomach flutters nervously. "I think… when I woke up- well, I was thinking about… about Arum's body-"

Rilla raises an eyebrow, and Damien fumbles his next breath, his cheeks darkening just slightly.

"Not! Not in that way, don't be-"

"Teasing, Damien," she says, and then she kisses his shoulder, soothing. "I know. Keep talking."

He laughs, a little thinly, and shakes his head. "I… I was thinking about- about his feeling of coldness, last night, and I was thinking about… about what his body may remember, even if he himself… even if his mind… what is it that you call it, when one repeats a motion so thoroughly that it becomes automatic, that it comes naturally, without thought?"

Rilla purses her lips. "Muscle memory, you mean?"

"Yes." Damien nods, though he still looks troubled. "That's the one. I was thinking… thinking of what else his body may remember, and…"

Usually, so long as Rilla isn't already busy or in a bad mood, she lets Damien come around to his points in his own sweet time, but- well, considering the subject matter at hand-

"Damien," she says firmly. "Clearly you thought of something. Come on."

"The issue is," he says weakly, "that I think it might be a terrible idea, in fact. I worry that I might simply be so desperate-"

"What is it?"

"Well- well…" Damien bites his lip again, harder this time, and then he hesitantly meets Rilla's eyes. "Lord Arum and I… it is almost second nature between us, our duels, our sparring-"

"Oh, for Saints' sake," Rilla groans, letting her head thwump back into the pillows and pressing a hand over her eyes. "Okay, you're right, that's a terrible idea-"

"I know," Damien sighs. "I know, I shouldn't have said anything, the last thing we wish to do is to make him think we intend to harm him, and I can hardly imagine that he would trust our intentions in some sort of nonlethal combat-"

"We have to try it," Rilla says, growling through her teeth with her eyes still covered.

"… I beg your pardon?"

"Physicality, adrenaline, muscle memory, actual memory from some of the highest-stress moments of your shared history- it's a good idea, Damien, even if I hate it. I don't wanna say it might work because I'm not looking to get my hopes up again, but-"

She doesn't finish the thought. She peels her hand off her face, squinting up at Damien instead.

"You think… you think we should raise the matter with him? See if he will consider…"

"It's literally how the two of you met," Rilla says with a sigh. "And yeah, I think he'll consider. First off, if he thinks you're challenging his skill, he'll be too proud not to accept. He'll wanna prove something. Secondly, I think he might just be frustrated enough to want to fight in general."

Damien hums thoughtfully, and Rilla pauses, considering her own words for a moment before she continues.

"Though… okay. I'm going to ask this, and I hate asking it, obviously, but I'm just gonna- you don't think, if you try to spar with him- you don't think that he'll- that he might-"

"Hurt me?" Damien's voice keens with a combination of pain and sorrow, but he smiles oddly anyway. "I cannot say it is impossible, but … well, even in our second duel, when he bested me, he cut me only to prove the point, I think, and he bound the wound so quickly afterward… even that, perhaps, could be a path towards his memories-"

"Damien I'm not going to let him hurt you for the chance of-"

"I know," Damien says, his smile gone wry, and he squeezes her again. "I was not suggesting that, I swear. In no small part because I know he would never forgive himself, if that did unlock his memories. Besides, my love." He sits up a little straighter, and the expression on his face goes sad and certain at the same time. "I do not think he could if he tried."

"If he hurt you before-"

"I do not think that Arum, this Arum, could defeat me in combat. I managed to best him as he is when I had barely an ounce of experience fighting with a blade such as his, with no knowledge of his specific tricks and tactics. Now? Oh, now- I have danced with him countless times, I know his movements and his mind, I know his footwork, the angle of his wrist in the moment before the strike- I know all of it. I know him. Unfortunately, my love, if he agrees- this will not be a fair fight. I admit I am rather concerned about that, at least, for his own sake."

"Why?" Rilla asks. "It's not like you'll hurt him, obviously." Speaking of someone never forgiving themself. She knows that Damien still agonizes over Arum's scar from their first fight, every once in a while.

"No," he agrees. "I would never hurt him." He pauses. "Physically, intentionally. But- I expect that our current relative positions might cause some damage to his pride."

Rilla snorts. "Okay, point." She shakes her head, then rolls herself to slip from the bed properly, stretching with a grimace. "Okay, okay. We'll float the idea. After we get some food into us, I think, and maybe after we sift through some other ideas first. Don't wanna spook him too early in the morning."

Damien nods, following her ascent, and as he rolls to stand the Keep sings lightly, vines curling at the corner of the room but not forming a portal just yet.

"Ah," Rilla says, hazarding a smile. "Heard me mention food, huh?"

It hums a confirmation, surprised and warm, and Damien manages a little laugh as he takes Rilla's hand.

"How… how is he, this morning?" Damien asks.

The Keep hesitates, then lilts a set of tones that bounce like a see-saw. Rilla meets Damien's eye, and then she shrugs.

"Better than yesterday, at least," she says.

The Keep warbles a wry sort of agreement, and then it pulls open the portal.

[->]

[damienthepious]

for commentary on heart beats, would love to expand on arums assertion abt damien lying (give or take a few more paragraphs leading up or following that bit if you so choose)

[Pick a short passage from any fanfic I’ve written and send it to me, and I’ll give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet!]

you are my frickin hero rn i'm. Chatty.

["If your answer is no, Arum, I am perfectly willing to accept that. If you dislike the idea, I do not intend to press the issue.] Damien honestly barely knows what the fuck he's doing. Asking this is WAY outside of his comfort zone and far far distant from anything he's ever discussed with a partner before.

[I- I value this, this- what we have between us. I would not like to risk that for the sake of something tenuous and uncertain and new. I would not like to risk you."] This is, I believe, the closest that Damien has been so far to expressing something like a real feeling for Arum, rather than just referencing the safety net of their "arrangement" as if it exists without any shred of entangled emotions.

And hey, he really likes Rilla, already! BUT. But, Damien has been seeing Arum for... i don't think i've specified in the fic, but- more than a year, at least. Maybe more than two years. Despite his inner conflict about it, his thing with Arum means a lot to him, it's a big part of his life.

[He's lying.] It's the closest that Damien has come so far to expressing a feeling for Arum, and even THAT is too much. It bounces off of Arum immediately.

[He must be lying, of course. He must be.] because OBVIOUSLY Damien cannot care enough about him to consider losing their arrangement a "risk"

[Damien is, historically, an atrocious liar, but this time- well, his voice does waver, at the least. His cheeks do heat and darken. He's lying.] Damien, embarrassed by even ASKING this, flustered when he realizes that he's basically said that he cares about staying with Arum, gets nervous and blushes. which makes PERFECT SENSE. Except Arum entirely misinterprets THAT evidence, because of course he does.

[If Arum asks- if Arum admits a desire to keep Damien all to himself, the knight will certainly- even if he does not snap their arrangement on the spot, he will grow to resent Arum for the limitation. Won't he? Not only corrupting the little knight but also trying to cage him-] Things Arum Hates: VULNERABILITY. Admitting that he cares about Damien kissing/sleeping with/dating someone else? Deeply vulnerable, because their arrangement is SUPPOSED to be ONLY sexual! Arum SHOULDN'T have any emotions tied up in this, if he was adhering to what they verbally agreed on in the first place, but- well, Arum is well and away past that. And Arum knows what Damien thinks of monsters, of him, of the treasonous nature of their acquaintance. It makes a certain sort of sense, to assume that Damien would resent Arum actively keeping him from a relationship with a human.

[And... well... Damien deserves to be happy. Damien deserves to lie with someone with whom he can walk openly in the daylight, too, doesn't he? He deserves to kiss someone in plain view, unafraid, unburdened by guilt.

Damien deserves to be loved, and he deserves to be loved by someone he is capable of loving in return.] Aaaaaand there's the other thing. Arum is in love, capital L Love with Damien. He loves him. And he cares about Damien's happiness.

I wrote a commentary on a part of chapter 3, mentioning how Arum wants to please Damien, but he wants that slightly less than he wants to keep from HURTING Damien. Similarly, Arum wants to keep Damien with him, substantially less than he wants Damien to be happy and loved.

I will mention last, i know that Arum hasn't actually said or even thought, overtly, that he's in love with Damien, but i figured it was pretty obvious. Arum isn't thinking about it if he can help it, not in so many words, at least. Which, in a weird way, almost makes it more melodramatic. Ridiculous lizard.