[P] [M] I didn't notice your crown was gone
An AU from a universe where Bellad never got lost in the Underthing and he and Fennore never grew closer

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: Possible sexual themes.

Feel free to powerplay them moving to Vodeva's place! [+576]
It may have been a new road to learn, but he’d learn it all the same. It may have been a longer path to take, but it would not interfere with his duties. In truth, the help he could offer her had peaked a long time ago. The strange wound that would not heal remained an occasional concern eluding any lasting leeway into recovery. But what more was there to do other than mitigate the pains and provide what herbal remedies could ease her into sleep?

He knew to keep it clean as possible, and knew to keep it covered when she was out and about. Since she did not seem all that prone to hunting in Roaming Paw, there appeared to be little danger of her overexposing it.

Sometimes he thought of it, and counted the days that have been spent fighting this injury that threatened permanence. It was not the first malady that he hadn’t the name or reliable promise for. Inevitably, Thyri would come to mind. His first failing as the healer of New Caledonia. The first funeral he witnessed.

But where these many days by Vodeva’s side hadn’t grown into the victories of a healer, they did turn to familiarity as a pack-mate. While he’s been exposed to the Isiltári’s lessons of literacy and the unknown things in the surrounding world, it seemed they never would breach the sturdy wall of respective duties. No catalyst existed to make them confront one another’s places beyond the healer and the queen.

This wasn’t the first time one could see the healer by the side of a queen. He understood little of politics and the implications. Perhaps this was what helped him keep things fairly simple. If perplexing in where else he was to go and what other trick of his trade to try.

He walked the path to Haven for some time, form of Deft Hand permitting him to carry a satchel that, much like its owner, held close the scent of various prepared herbal remedies. It wasn’t unusual. No one would question it, least of all Bellad himself. Though perhaps his heading so specifically to see the now-former queen would elicit a bit more conversation, however brief or hushed.

Come to think of it, he did not know what Vodeva herself had thought on the matter. They had their ritual. He would show up, he would speak to her. He would examine the wound, and often beyond that. He would ask how she last slept, or how her appetite was, or whether the pains bothered her and she needed his aid. The sincerity of his dedication to treating her long ceased to be in question. No more prompts from her concerned husband were required, even as he continued to provide the occasional report.

Of course with how scarce the results were, one had to wonder if it had been up to inertia, or a painfully inflamed sense of duty. But then, why not just send other healers in his stead?

The streets of New Caledonia’s secondary habitat were finally beneath his feet. He knew that Vodeva relocated here, but did not know just where. Drawing the scent of the place and its inhabitants in through his nostrils, he sought the familiar notes unique to her. Circling the various buildings, all but tracking the former queen down, he was intent on letting the ritual continue.

Whether out of habit or else something different entirely.

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