When Julian came too, the first thing he saw was Gerda's lovely face inches from his own.
Something wasn't right. He was lying on a soft bedspread.
They weren't in the ballroom anymore. There was a wooden ceiling overhead. A window nearby let in the light of the evening sun and it cast a halo around his bridge troll.
She wore a complicated expression full of worry. Unthinking, he reached up and tucked her hair behind one very long ear.
There was blood on her hair. Probably his own. Hopefully his own.
“I'm alright.” He wheezed. Julian questioned whether he was, in fact, alright. His chest was on fire and he could feel himself bleeding through his clothes, and his lungs weren't working very well.
He felt like he was dying.
Gerda pulled back, looking him over, “You don't look alright. I've never had to use a [Revive] before. Why– Oh!”
She summoned a heal potion, ripped off the stopper and shoved it down his throat.
He coughed violently when the liquid didn't go down properly, but the pain in his chest stopped.
Gerda finally gave a relieved sigh and put the now empty bottle back in her storage. “Okay, that should do it. Sorry, I should've used a [Resurrect]... I might have panicked.”
She looked down at him sheepishly. A [Ressurect] would have brought him back at full health. Instead, the healing potion would do the job.
“That's fine.” He said the first thing that came to mind. She was leaning over him again, and he couldn’t sit up until she gave him space.
To distract himself, he decided now would be a good time to glance at his notification logs.
[Guard Activated. Transferring attack.]
[You have successfully redirected damage. You have been hit by a Cold Iron Bolt. Critical Hit 1000 points piercing damage.]
[Special Effect initiated. Warning, vital organ failure. You are dead.]
[You have been Revived. Health 110/1274.]
[You have the [Bleed Condition].]
[You suffer 20 points [Bleed] damage. Health 90/1274.]
[Warning, you are in Critical Condition.]
[You suffer 20 points [Bleed] damage. Health 70/1274]
[You have been healed with [Greater Health Potion]. Health 1070. Bleed effect negated.]
“Everything happened pretty fast.” Gerda was talking to him as he read.
He glanced at her as she pulled out a spell scroll. “[Cleanse].”
The spell removed the stains, magicking away the traces of his death.
Except for the giant tear in his shirt that wasn’t there before.
“Where are we?” Julian closed his system window and pushed into a sitting position.
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They were in a small comfortable bedroom. The bed was lush with soft covers and copious decorative pillows. There were paintings of the Dark Enchanted Forest on one wall, with a laundry basket beneath. Another wall was entirely covered in bookshelves full of books, nicknacks, and plants.
The opposite wall was curved out to make space for a cushioned bench below three large windows with green and white curtains. Even more pillows adorned the bench.
“My home.” Gerda said, pulling out another scroll.
“Your– your house? You brought me to your house?” Julian immediately felt overly conscious. “Is this your bed?”
“I couldn't very well portal us onto the sky bridge.” She said, matter of fact. “[Mend].”
His clothing ruffled and tugged all over his body, repairing itself. The tear disappeared as if it had never happened.
Though he was still a bit ruffled, he looked like he'd never been dead at all.
Julian gently touched his chest, feeling nothing out of the ordinary but still sensing a phantom pain. It should fade quickly, as these things usually did for him.
“Why not the bridge?” Julian actually disagreed. It would have been easier to clean up the mess and less destructive to Gerda's bed.
It was a nice bed. He needed to not be lying on it because that trail of thought was sudden and unexpected and all too much right now. Julian swung his legs over the side. They tangled with Gerda's skirt, and her hair fell on his thighs before she tossed her wavy tresses over her shoulder.
It didn't work very well, and the stands slipped forward again.
“Because.” She said. “I didn't know if there were other assassins in the palace. Better safe than sorry.”
It wasn't the biggest space and Gerda was very very close. She gave up on her hair and put the back of her hand against his forehead, nodding in approval at his stable temperature.
Then she moved to fix his collar.
“You made a strange noise, and then collapsed just in time for me to catch you.” she continued touching him, focused on setting things right and not noticing he was holding his breath. “Shame about my pastries though, I dropped them to catch you. There we go.”
She stepped back and looked him over. “Good as new. Let me know when you’re ready and I'll bring us back. We can still make it back before our next dance.”
Julian couldn't help it, and a short laugh escaped him.
“What?” The bridge troll crossed her arms.
“Are you sure you want to go back?" Julian reached out his hand and took hold of the long section of emerald hair.
It pleased him to see her free and blush from her neck to the tips of her ears, because it proved that he wasn't the only one effected.
He lifted the lock of hair in front of her. It was wet with blood.
She cursed aloud. “One second.”
Then she pulled out another spell scroll.
“How many of those do you have?” He asked, curious. They were expensive to make but very handy.
“A hundred? Two?” Gerda shrugged. [Cleanse].”
“You have two hundred [Cleanse] spell scrolls?” He played with her now clean hair, twirling it as it slipped through his fingers.
“Not all of them are spelled.” Her eyes followed his fingers, enrapt. “They show up in treasure chests all the time and it's fun collecting cantrips– I meant useful. It's useful having all these spells ready to go. Case and point.”
She waved to indicate his chest. Speaking of which…
“Where is the cold iron arrow?” It was nowhere to be seen.
“I tookl it out before I healed you. It's in my storage but I'm not pulling it out now. I just cleaned up.” She explained.
“I thought we could use it to track the assassin.” Julian explained. It would be easy work for his rogue as long as they had something to connect back to the archer.
“No need. I already know who it is - and so does your mother.” Gerda shook her head and sighed. “Honestly, I'm more worried about Amy.”
“The saintess?”
“As I thought, the man she's seeing turned out to be the assassin… and, um, you weren't his target. I was.” She scratched her cheek. “Sorry.”
“The same one who poisoned your drink?” Julian didn't mind a little death in her place, but if she was going to be so often attacked then he had his own apologies to make.
The bridge troll shook her head again. “I don't know. Your mother said the poison was legal… so I bet someone's put out a hit on my head and every registered assassin in the duchy is out to get the experience points for killing me.”
“I'm sorry. You never would have been exposed as Madame Potts if you didn't save my family.” His hands clenched.
Desire warred with his etiquette. But what was the polite thing to do when he woke up in the bed of the most beautiful and lovely troll he'd ever met?
He couldn't just kiss her.
“It's fine, I'll be safe in the North before we know it.” She smiled at him reassuringly. It sent his blood racing.
He rose to his feet.
Worried and aroused, his voice dropped low as he leaned in close enough to feel her breath on his lips when he asked, “And how are you going to defend your bridges and stay safe in the North?”
Gerda stared at his lips as she bit her own.
He wanted to bite her lips. He wanted to pull her with him onto the bed behind him, straddling his lap, and kiss the bridge troll silly.