Chapter 39: Lysander, you smell

The medical facility’s vast corridors stretched into shadow as Lysander lingered by the door, his tired gaze softening at Brynhild’s teasing words. "You smell," she had said, her nose scrunching and brows furrowing in that familiar mix of affection and disapproval.

The bluntness caught him off guard, especially because they were just seeing each other after that scare he received, he tried to hold it in but he couldn’t and a weary laugh escaped his lips, the sound rough but genuine, cutting through the tension that had gripped him for hours.

"I love you too," he replied, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "I need to wash off first, but I just came to see you. Rita said you were awake, and I couldn’t wait." His voice carried a warmth that belied his filthy state, his tunic crusted with Orion’s blood, his hands still stained from the night’s battle against the Trihydra venom.

Brynhild’s silver eyes seemed to pierce through him, her heightened senses picking up every nuance. "You better wash up," she said, her tone firm but laced with concern. "I may not be able to see you, but I can smell the blood from here. Whose is it?" Her voice sharpened, cutting through her fatigue.

Lysander’s smile faded, replaced by a solemn nod. "Orion’s," he admitted, his voice low. "He took a bad hit from the Trihydra. I’ve done what I can, but he’s out cold delusions might hit when he wakes, if he wakes."

Brynhild sat up abruptly, the linens rustling as shock and worry flashed across her face. Her hair shifted with the movement, the packed-up portion loosening slightly. "Is he...?" she began, her voice trembling with worry. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Lysander raised a hand, stepping closer to reassure her. "It’s alright, love. The worst is past, the venom’s neutralized for now. He’s strong, but it’ll be days, maybe longer, before we know more." His words were steady, a lifeline for her as much as for himself.

Instinctively, he leaned in to kiss her, but the stench of blood and sweat hit him mid-motion.

He froze, pulling back with a grimace, the realization of his filth sinking in. "Gods, you’re right," he muttered, a flush creeping up his neck. "I’ll be right back." With that, he turned and rushed out, his footsteps echoing down the stone corridor as he headed for their home.

The journey was short but felt endless, his mind replaying the night’s chaos, Orion’s collapse, the black veins, the desperate race to save him. Their home, a sturdy dwelling not too far from the medical center, offered a brief sanctuary.

Lysander stripped off his stained clothes, the fabric peeling away like a second skin, and scrubbed himself raw under a basin of cold water. The water was freezing but he didn’t care because he was focused on getting back to his wife.

He changed into a clean tunic and trousers, running his hands through his blonde hair to tame the escaped strands, ensuring no trace of blood lingered. Brynhild’s heightened senses, tripled by her pregnancy, were a force he couldn’t ignore.

Just her blindness had sharpened her smell and hearing to an extreme, and now that she was pregnant, it was excess. He knew even a faint scent could unsettle her. Satisfied, he returned to the medical center, his steps lighter but still heavy with fatigue.

As he re-entered her room, Brynhild tilted her head, her nose wrinkling slightly. "You tried your best," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice, "but I can still smell a faint trace of blood." Her tone was gentle, though the effort to detect it showed in the slight furrow of her brow.

Lysander paused, concern flickering in his eyes. "Does it irritate you? If it does, I’ll change again." His voice was earnest, willing to do whatever eased her discomfort.

Due to how heightened her senses were especially during this period, a smell she didn’t like could send her throwing up all the organs in her stomach.

She shook her head, a small smile breaking through. "It’s not so bad. I can handle it." Her resilience shone through, a testament to the warrior she was, even confined to this bed.

Relieved, Lysander closed the distance between them, his arms wrapping around her in a tight hug. The warmth of her body against his clean clothes grounded him, a moment of solace amid the storm.

"Don’t scare me like that again," he murmured into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. "Seeing you collapse...it nearly broke me."

Brynhild leaned into him, her hands resting on his back. "I really thought I was okay," she admitted, her voice soft but laced with regret. "I felt strong enough to lead, to fight. I didn’t realize..."

Lysander pulled back slightly, his hands framing her face as he met her unseeing gaze. "You pushed yourself too much," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "You were lucky this time, Brynhild. But if it happens again, you could lose the baby." The words were a quiet hammer, the truth they’d both avoided since her collapse.

She fell silent, the weight of his statement settling over her. Her hands dropped to her lap, fingers tracing the edge of the linens as she processed the risk. Lysander took her hand, his grip warm and steady, and spoke calmly, "You’ll have to be on bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy. No arguments, no heroics. I need you both safe."

He braced himself for her defiance, expecting the fiery captain to rail against the confinement. But Brynhild surprised him. She gave a slow nod, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I understand," she said, her voice steady despite the emotion. "For the baby... for us. I’ll do it."

Lysander exhaled, relief washing over him like a tide. He squeezed her hand, pulling her close again, their foreheads touching in a silent pact. The room seemed to still, the distant sounds of the medical center fading as they held each other, a fragile peace settling between them.

Outside, the night deepened, the compound quiet under a blanket of snow. Sophia had reached her small house, the warmth of the hearth a stark contrast to the cold dread in her chest. She sank onto a rough wooden chair, her mind replaying Lysander’s reassurance that the Trihydra’s venom predated her argument with Orion. Yet the beast’s gaze lingered in her thoughts, a puzzle piece she couldn’t fit. She rubbed her temples, the yawn from earlier returning, but sleep eluded her.

She decided to take a bath to watch off the stress of the day and finally collapsed on her bed, sleep overtaking her big it wasn’t peaceful.