Helping Hand(kerchief)--tarotgal birthday fic 2023

[Wig_Powder]

“Sir!” Cynbel called from the top of the hill, “I can see Ibidem far off in the distance! Weather and our horses permitting, we should arrive there in a day or two!”

Sir Aengus nodded approvingly, his shoulders slumping in relief. “Very...” he began, only to lurch forward with several harsh coughs. By the time he'd composed himself, Cynbel had ridden back down the hill and was looking at him concernedly. “Very good, Cynbel,” Aengus said in a quieter tone, picking up his water flask, “Let's try to quicken our pace.”

“As you wish, sir.” Cynbel said. Then, after a small hesitation, he continued, “As long as you're sure it won't make your condition worse.”

Aengus smiled ruefully. “I doubt it will help,” he admitted, “But if we keep our previous pace, it will most likely take us two days to reach the city. And I believe any discomfort that comes from moving faster will be outweighed by the benefits of having access to a warm bath, better food, and a proper bed.” Then he huffed and brought his hand inside his cloak. “To say nothing of a replenishment of ah-a certain item...”

With that, he pulled out an incredibly bedraggled piece of cloth, getting it to his nose just in time. “Eh-teshhh!!”

“God bless you,” Cynbel said, with a sympathetic grimace, “I take your point. Let us make haste, then.”

With that, he turned his horse back towards the hill, shaking the reins to encourage him to move faster. For his part, Aengus blew his nose—resulting in a sting of pain on the sides of his nose and a new film of dampness on his fingertips—before tucking the handkerchief back into its pouch before shaking Yalava's reins. “Come on, girl,” he said gently, “A warm bunk's waiting for both of us.”

Yalava obligingly moved forward, and Aengus felt like there was a little extra vigor in her step, as though the promise of a good rest was as invigorating to her as it was to him. He settled himself as comfortably as he could in the saddle, trusting Cynbel and Yalava to lead the way for the time being, and allowed his mind to wander.

It had been a fairly straightforward assignment. King Jankin had been hearing rumors that King Enguerran of Neuved was hoping to expand his territory, most likely by taking it from neighboring countries. Wanting to be prepared but not wanting to around Enguerran's suspicions, Jankin had sent eight of his most trusted knights—one for each of the cardinal directions—to the borders of Serelin, ostensibly to deal with any brigandry taking place along the roads. In actuality, they were to cross over the border, spend the night at the home of the nearest lord, and make inquiries about the war rumors. If the rumors seemed to be founded, the knights were then to ask about the likelihood of forming an alliance with whichever country they were in, and to leave a letter and a present with the lord to be presented to their ruler at their earliest convenience. Then the knights were to return to Ibidem to make their reports. While they were likely to encounter a few bandit camps along the way, Jankin hadn't expected his men to run into much of any trouble.

And really, Aengus hadn't actually had too much difficulty for much of the assignment. He'd only run into one group of bandits, who were obvious novices and were easily convinced to return to the straight and narrow after Aengus and Cynbel had put the fear of God into them. When they'd arrived at the border of Nascim, they'd successfully made contact with Lord Vauque, and over the course of dinner, Vauque had said that Nascim's King had also heard and was concerned about Enguerran's powerlust, hinting that an offer of alliance would be most welcome. Aengus had given Vauque the gift and letter, passed the night, and left the next morning, satisfied at a job well done. It was only on the return journey that things had started going wrong.

Two days out from Nascim, Aengus had woken up feeling slightly chilled and had a soft but persistent flutter in his throat throughout the day, leading to quiet, semi-frequent coughs. He hadn't thought much about it initially, but that afternoon, the sky had darkened, and he and Cynbel were caught in a storm. Actually, “storm” was too strong a word; there was no lightning or thunder, but the winds were strong and the rain fell thick and fast, so it was still quite the unpleasant experience. He and Cynbel had tried to continue for an hour or so, but between the conditions and the fact that their supply horse got separated from them, they gave up and set up camp early. By that evening, the rain had gone down to a drizzle, and Aengus had realized that he'd fallen ill.

Despite this, Aengus had decided it was better to try to continue to Ibidem, as the inns in this region of the country were not only few and far between, but he didn't want to take up a room that someone else might have more need of. In an attempt to keep himself from growing too much worse, he heated up stones by the fire in the evenings, tucking one under his bedroll before going to bed and pressing the other against his front during the morning ride. He also took frequent sips of water and tried to talk in a low voice to avoid aggravating his throat. This had all been fairly effective, but there was one symptom that he'd had less success in dealing with.

Cynbel had made a valiant search effort, but had been unable to find their supply horse. While they carried most of their essentials on their own mounts and had enough food to make it back to Ibidem, one of the items Aengus had packed in the extra saddlebags was his spare handkerchiefs, wanting to have them handy just in case but seeing no need to keep more than one on his person. What this meant was that he now had to make do with a single handkerchief, and while it was a large, thick cloth made of sturdy material, it had only taken a day of sneezing before it lost a lot of its usefulness. He was continuing to use it for the sake of politeness, and was at least attempting to dry it before the fire and with his warming stones, but it remained damp more often than not, and was starting to grow a little stiff besides. He could still use it to blow or wipe at his nose, but while he did get a little relief out of the action, he could tell that the dampness was chafing his nostrils. No doubt that was the reason Cynbel kept giving him such concerned looks; while Aengus didn't feel well, his nose must be making him appear dreadfully ill.

Aengus was pulled out of his musings by another itch in his nose. Pulling out his handkerchief again, he tried to position it so that it would touch his nose as little as possible while still catching the spray. “Heh...heh-kssshhh!!” His attempt was successful, but he could feel his nose starting to run, so was forced to bring the cloth to his face anyway. Biting back the desire to hiss in pain, he cleaned up his nose as best he could, then rearranged his cloak to keep in as much warmth as he could. The stone he'd placed between his tunic and his armor had lost the last of its heat at least an hour ago, so he'd have to try to preserve all remaining warmth until they made camp for the evening. By keeping his cloak snug around him and leaning forward, Aengus was reasonably sure he could ward off the chills for another few hours. Even with the regular need to disturb the arrangement to sneeze yet again.

And so he and Cynbel pressed forwards, only pausing for a minute or so whenever they reached the top of a hill to see how much closer Ibidem was, as well as one small break when they reached a river to refill their flasks and to allow the horses a chance to drink. It was only when the sky began to darken that Aengus declared that it was time to make camp. Finding an area with a few trees, Cynbel immediately set to work preparing their tents, while Aengus prepared the fire. Once he was done, he set his two warming stones as close to the flames as he could, then sat beside the fire to warm himself while Cynbel finished with the tents and then started to prepare the evening meal. Throughout all of this, Aengus continued to sneeze every few minutes, his handkerchief growing damper and damper while his nose stung more and more every time the cloth touched his skin. But he stubbornly continued to use it, wanting to at least preserve a little of the noble air a knight was supposed to have.

For his part, Cynbel had refrained from calling attention to Aengus' illness, save to bless him after a sneeze. But as they waited for their dinner to cook and Aengus sneezed for the twelfth time since making camp, the squire apparently decided to bring up the subject. “God bless you, sir. How are you feeling?”

“I've certainly been better,” Aengus said, “My hands, feet, and the center of my chest still feel cold no matter the efforts I take to warm them, it's hard for me to concentrate, and the sneezing remains somewhat troublesome. However, the urge to cough has mostly subsided, and I have both more energy and a bit more appetite. Once we're safely back in Ibidem, I imagine it should only take me two or three days to clear up the worst of these lingering symptoms.”

“That's good to hear, sir,” Cynbel said, as he stirred the pot, “And I trust you'll want to return to the city under your own power, rather than having me ride ahead in the morning to fetch a cart so that you can have a little extra rest?”

Aengus nodded. “As prideful as it is, I couldn't bear to be seen as that weak. If I was injured in the leg or the side, or if I was returning with news of a great victory, perhaps then I'd welcome the assistance. But the news I bring has just as much bad as it does good, and I don't believe a mere cold merits such transportation”

“As you say, sir,” Cynbel said, “But if you worsen during the night, merely say the word and I'd be happy to set off.”

Aengus nodded his gratitude, letting a comfortable silence fall. The silence didn't last for long, however, as it was broken by yet another sneeze. “Eh...et-psshhhttt!!”

“God bless you, sir.”

Aengus nodded, carefully wiping at his nose but still unable to stop himself from flinching as the damp cloth chafed against his inflamed skin. As he tucked the cloth away, a thought from earlier in the day floated back to him, and he decided now was an ideal time to bring it up. “Be honest with me, Cynbel,” he said, “How ill do I look, truly?”

Cynbel hesitated, but after an encouraging nod from Aengus, he said “You look miserable, sir, and I think it's all thanks to the appearance of your nose. Without it, you might look a bit pale, and you have trouble sustaining your normal bearing, but most observers wouldn't immediately conclude that you were ill. But as it stands, your nose turned noticeably pink the day after the rainstorm, and progressed to red by noon the day after that. Since then, it's remained a bright blotch in the center of your face, meaning the eye is immediately drawn to it. Given how awful it looks, it's hard not to assume that you must be suffering from a hell of a cold.”

Aengus gave a lopsided smile. “I almost wish I had a glass so I could see for myself. But overall, I think I'd rather avoid that blow to my self-esteem.” Then he nodded to Cynbel again. “Thank you for your honesty. Now I know not to take it personally if people give me a wide berth as we make our way to the castle.”

“Oh, I doubt they'll do that, sir,” Cynbel said as he ladled out two bowls of soup, “Take an involuntary step back at their first glimpse of you, perhaps, but then I imagine curiosity and the general excitement that comes when they see one of the King's knights will take over once more.”

“No doubt,” Aengus agreed, “Indeed, perhaps seeing me in this state will be a positive. They'll be reminded that we knights are just as human as the rest of them, which may encourage them to attempt to achieve knighthood themselves. Or at the very least, prevent them from relying on us to take care of all their conflicts.”

“We can hope, sir,” Cynbel said, “After all, His Highness' knights may be Serelin's best line of defense, but we need more than the fifty we currently possess if a war arises.”

From there, the conversation naturally drifted to the likelihood of war with Enguerran, which continued until their bowls were empty. Cynbel said he'd tidy up and take first watch, allowing Aengus to get some rest. Aengus nodded gratefully, and after soaking his handkerchief with water from his flask and wringing it out, he draped it over a stone to dry before taking up one of his warming stones and bringing it into his tent. Placing it under the approximate center of his bedroll, he removed his armor as quickly as his hands and his strength would allow. Just as he was working on the bottom half of his armor, his nose prickled again. Without a handkerchief to hand, he resorted to his only fallback; he pinched his nose to prevent any mess from escaping. While this was effective, it caused far more pain to his already sore nose. Furthermore, instead of one sneeze, stifling meant that he'd sneeze between three to five times before the itch subsided. In this case, luck wasn't on his side, and it took five sneezes before he felt the itch dissipate. “Knxt! Hpxt! Ixxt! Nnnk! KRXXTT!!”

Sniffling wetly, Aengus gave his nose a quick rub to remove any lingering wetness (this hurt as well, but oddly enough it felt less painful than using the handkerchief), then wiped his fingers on his undertunic before bending down to remove the rest of his armor. Five minutes later, he set aside the final piece and slipped into his bedroll, letting out an involuntary sigh as he was surrounded by the warmth of the stone and the blankets. He made himself comfortable, positioning his hand so that he could quickly bring it to his nose if another itch arose. But the heat and his weariness from the journey served him well, and he fell asleep without sneezing again.

***

The next morning, Aengus felt like more of his strength and appetite had returned, and that his feet and chest felt less chilled. It also seemed like his sneezing was subsiding somewhat as well—over the course of breakfast, both he and Cynbel agreed that he was now sneezing every ten minutes instead of every five. Despite this, however, Cynbel reported that Aengus' nose was still eye-catchingly red, and it still stung whenever Aengus brought his handkerchief to his nose. At this rate, Aengus suspected that his nose would continue to look sickly for at least several days after his illness had passed.

Nevertheless, the improvement in his health, combined with the knowledge that they would reach Ibidem that day, gave Aengus enough energy that he decided that they would speed the horses up still further, even going so far as to speed them into a gallop whenever they reached an open stretch of road. This had the desired result; the sun was just reaching the midpoint of the sky as they found themselves before Ibidem's gates. As soon as the guards saw the banner Cynbel was carrying, as well as the glint of Aengus' armor, they promptly opened the doors and granted them entrance. They continued towards the castle at the center of town, many of the townsfolk emerging to watch them pass by. Aengus did his best to sit up straight and give off the proper air of a knight, but thanks to the prior night's conversation, he couldn't help but glance at the crowds to see how they might react to the sight of him. Perhaps he was just seeing what he expected to see, but it did appear that many of the people were giving him curious looks, eyes turned upwards to look at his face rather than taking in the whole sight of him, his horse, and his armor. But none of them appeared to be disapproving, and he took a small comfort in that.

(It probably helped that he made a concentrated effort not to sneeze during the ride to the castle. When he inevitably felt one coming on, he lightly bit the inside of his cheek to try to keep the itch at bay, and when that was no longer effective, he clenched his teeth and stifled, which allowed him to continue to sit tall in the saddle and not bring his hand to his face, at the cost of sneezing ten times. It probably also gave him a sterner countenance than he would have liked, but he thought the tradeoff was worth it.)

At last, they reached the walls of the castle, and were let in immediately. As soon as the portcullis had been lowered behind them, Aengus and Cynbel dismounted, Cynbel departing to bring the horses to the stable. Aengus then turned his full attention to Griselt, King Jankin's servant, expecting to be brought straight to the throne room so he could give his report. Instead, Griselt looked at him with a similar expression of concern to the one Cynbel had been wearing for most of the return journey. “Are you all right, Sir Aengus?”

“Relatively so,” Aengus replied, “I fell ill as we were leaving Nascim, but it's just a slight cold. I should fully recover from it in a few days.”

Griselt nodded, still looking skeptical. “I will report on your condition to the King. Please, come in and wait in the hall to get out of the wind.”

Aengus wanted to protest that he certainly had enough strength in him to report the results of his trip, but Griselt was already striding off. With a shrug, Aengus followed after him, then stopped in the hall, doing his best to adjust his armor and smooth out his hair so that he could look a touch more presentable. Then his nose prickled again, and he quickly got the handkerchief (which had already become sodden despite the increased gaps between sneezes) to his face again. “Heeh-Keissshhhhh!”

He winced as the cloth rubbed against his nose, then tried to blow and wipe it dry as quickly as he could. Just as he was straightening up and lowering the cloth, he saw Griselt coming towards him. “King Jankin has decreed that you be given a full day of rest before giving your report,” the servant said, “So that you may hopefully recover your strength and purge the worst of the cold from your body. But before you're fully dismissed, he has asked me to ask you the answers to the two questions he sent you out with. You can provide the details at your meeting.”

Aengus nodded. “As His Highness wishes. And the answers are yes, it seems likely that Enguerran is preparing for war, and yes, that Nascim will be willing to ally with us.”

Griselt's posture relaxed slightly at that. “Very good, Sir Aengus. I shall report this to His Majesty directly. Please, present yourself in the throne room at ten tomorrow morning. Until then, may you have a calm night and a quick recovery.” And with a short bow, he turned and walked away. Aengus waited until he had disappeared from view, then turned and started making his way to his personal room.

Almost as soon as the door had shut behind him, it felt as though a weight had lifted from his shoulders. At the same time, a wave of tiredness crashed over him, and he was now relieved that King Jankin had given him a day to recuperate. At the moment, all he wanted to do was get out of his armor and sleep in a proper bed. When he woke up, he would see to getting a hot meal and cleaning up his armor so that it would be presentable when he met with the King in the morning, but at the moment, all he wanted was rest. Well, rest and one other thing.

Slowly making his way across the room, Aengus soon arrived at the chest where he kept most of his personal items. Once he'd removed enough of his armor to allow him to kneel, he opened it and retrieved the three handkerchiefs he hadn't brought with him on his journey. Carrying them to his bedside table, he set them where he knew they'd be in easy reach, then turned all his attention to removing his armor and at least making an attempt to place everything in its proper place on the stand in the corner of the room (the warming stone was placed down beside it, to be disposed of at a later date). Then he dragged himself back to his bed and climbed under the covers, unable to repress a groan at the softness of the mattress. Just as he was settling himself into a comfortable position, he felt the itch return to his nose, and snatched up one of the fresh handkerchiefs to sneeze into. “Ah...ah-hehssshhhhh!”

While there was still a small sting along his nostrils as the cloth touched the irritated skin, the cloth was soft and dry enough to minimize his discomfort considerably. With another relieved groan, Aengus blew his nose, then set the handkerchief aside and put his head to the pillow. In what seemed like seconds, he was fast asleep.

He was awoken sometime later by a soft yet urgent knock on his door. It took him a few moments to determine where he was, then another few moments to take stock of the situation. There was still daylight coming in through the small window, suggesting it was around mid-afternoon. Despite what had most likely only been a two or three hour sleep, he already felt significantly more refreshed. And while he felt pleasantly warm, with only a touch of chill lingering in his toes, his nose still felt heavy, with a slight prickle suggesting he'd still be sneezing for at least a day. Still, he felt he was fit to have company, so he picked up the handkerchief and held it at the ready as he called “Come in.”

As soon as the door opened, Aengus was unable to repress a gasp, and quickly tried to sit up straighter. “My Lady!” he said, doing his best to bow, “What an unexpected surprise!”

Lady Muriel smiled at him, deftly maneuvering into the room despite the tray in her hands. “And why should it be unexpected?” she asked, “I would have thought it stood to reason that a knight could expect to be paid a visit from the woman he has pledged himself to once he returned from his latest excursion.”

Aengus reddened. “In other circumstances, perhaps. But surely you have heard that I have returned from this particular excursion with a cold.” Almost immediately after speaking, he pressed the handkerchief to his face to catch a sneeze. “Eh...eh-hepishhhttt!”

“God bless you,” Muriel said, setting down the tray atop his storage chest before closing the door behind her, “Of course I heard. And it was all the more reason that I should visit you, to make sure you got the proper care that could hasten your recovery.”

“But...” Aengus said, “I must look a sight, and cannot give you all the courtesies that you deserve.”

Muriel shook her head and moved to the foot of the bed, giving him such a tender look that Aengus felt as though it was wrapping him in the softest, warmest quilt. “That is what chivalry demands of you, perhaps. But a lady has certain behaviors she must follow as well. One of which is to look after those she cares about. A duty I intend to fulfill to my utmost. As for your appearance...that is to be expected when you're ill. And it matters not to me; all that truly matters is to help you recover, and to look after you as faithfully as you look after Serelin. If anything, I shall consider it a badge of honor that I was able to restore you to your old self.”

Aengus, feeling overwhelmed, reached a hand towards her. “I have been blessed, indeed, to have pledged myself to such a thoughtful woman. Thank you from the bottom of my soul.”

Muriel smiled and lowered her head modestly, a hint of a blush coming to her own face. “You're quite welcome, Aengus.” Then she regained her usual grace and turned back to the tray. “Now then, to work. I've brought you a pitcher of water so that you won't have to get up in the night, and some hot bread and broth to help you regain your strength. Most importantly, however, I've brought this.”

She picked up a small jar and started moving towards his side while removing the lid. “Cynbel told me of your lack of handkerchiefs during your return trip, and the discomfort your nose suffered as a result. So while you slept, I visited the apothecary and acquired this cream. It should help soothe the raw skin and, once it dries, protect your nose from further chafing for at least two hours. Unless you're desperately hungry, I thought I could help you apply it before you ate.”

“I would appreciate that,” Aengus said, “Though I think I'd like a drink of water before we begin.”

Muriel nodded, handing him the jar before moving to retrieve the water. While she did so, Aengus examined the contents. It was a pale yellow color, and an experimental prod with his finger revealed it to be viscous and (for the moment at least) unpleasantly cold. Still, he knew that no apothecary would dare sell ineffective items when under the direct patronage of the King, so he would trust that any discomfort brought on by the cream would be counterbalanced by the relief it provided.

Muriel brought him the pitcher and an already filled glass, which Aengus drank gratefully. Once he'd set the glass beside the pitcher, she took the cream from him. “If I may...?” she said, the blush briefly returning to her cheeks, “Or would you rather do it yourself?”

Aengus shook his head, lightly touching the inside of her wrist. “I'm sure I'll be applying it myself quite a few times in the days to come,” he said, “But this first time, I'd be honored if you were the one to do it. Besides, I'll have to apply it by touch alone; you can actually see which areas most need tending to.”

She chuckled softly, briefly caressing the back of his hand before dipping her fingers in the jar. “In that case, I'll focus on the reddest sections first.”

Reaching out, she touched her fingers to the left side of his nose. Aengus flinched, both from the cold and the pain, but quickly nodded for her to continue. Muriel gave him a sympathetic look, resting the jar on his lap before putting her other hand on his leg. She started to lightly stroke it, giving him a more pleasant distraction while she gingerly rubbed the cream along his nostril. Despite the continual stinging and the faint chill, Aengus thought his nose was already starting to feel a little less sore as the cream seeped into the dry skin. Once his body had warmed the cream and his whole nose had been coated, he was sure it would feel even better. Indeed, he might even be able to briefly forget all it had suffered over the past few days.

That thought had barely crossed his mind, however, before the smell of the cream suddenly registered with him. He hadn't been able to smell it due to his congestion, but now that it was right up against his nose, it was unavoidable. It smelled somewhat like onions, which was actually a scent he didn't mind (perhaps because it was the main ingredient in his favorite soup). However, having the smell literally ringing his nose was overwhelming, and his eyes started to water. Moments later, his nose prickled, and he knew he was about to sneeze. “My...hiihhh...my lady...” he gasped out warningly.

Muriel immediately took a step back, and Aengus snatched up his handkerchief. The scent must have been stronger than he thought, because instead of one sneeze, he let out three in rapid succession, the last one much louder than he was used to. “Hikshh! Ikshh! HAH-KISSSHHHHH!!!”

“God bless you!” Muriel said, both surprised and concerned, “Are you all right?”

Aengus nodded, gingerly blowing his nose before wiping at his eyes. “Forgive me, Lady Muriel, but it seems that my nose is rather sensitive to the smell of the cream at present.”

“I'm sorry, Aengus,” Muriel said, “I didn't consider that possibility; I merely asked the apothecary for whatever item he thought could best soothe a reddened nose. If you wish, I can go back and ask if he has something with a different, milder scent.”

Aengus shook his head. “If he said this would be the most effective remedy, then I believe the strong scent is a small price to pay for faster relief. Furthermore, I think I only need a minute or two to get used to the scent before it will no longer be an issue for me.”

Muriel still looked dubious. “Can you hold back your sneeze for that long?” she asked.

“I'm certainly willing to try.” he said, pressing his finger at the base of his nose, pulling the skin down slightly so that it would be easier for Muriel to apply the cream. Muriel obligingly stepped forward, dipping her fingers in the jar and starting to apply the cream to his left nostril again, having guessed correctly that he'd wiped most of her first application away after the sneezes. As she did so, Aengus closed his eyes, focusing his attention on breathing through his mouth in the hopes that that would reduce how much of the scent he breathed in. Even so, he caught enough of the oniony smell that the itch started to grow in his nose again by the time Muriel was halfway done with his left nostril. He responded by pressing his finger even harder against his nose, holding his breath entirely, and counting to thirty. His lungs burned and a few tears leaked from his eyes, but it bought enough time to allow Muriel to finish coating the left side of his nose. As she briefly took her fingers away, Aengus exhaled and then sucked in a fresh breath, which only led to a brief coughing spell. “Sir Aengus...?” Muriel began, concerned, but he waved her off.

“I'm all right,” he assured her, “Just let me have a few sips of water, and then you can work on the other half of my nose.”

Muriel obliged him, holding the glass for him so he could keep his finger against his nose. Once he'd calmed his throat, he took an experimental breath through his nose. The onion scent was already fading somewhat, but it was still potent enough to make the itch grow significantly. Nodding grimly, he said “You'd best hurry, my lady.”

Muriel obliged him, but as Aengus deemed it unwise to hold his breath again, he returned to slowly breathing through his mouth. It was enough to keep the fresh influx of the onion scent from setting him off, but his nose still reacted to it, now actively beginning to twitch. Muriel must have noticed, because her fingers started moving a little faster across his skin. While this was a benefit it many ways, the quicker movements seemed to be enough to tickle his nose as well, not enough to produce a sneeze but enough to make the itch grow slightly stronger slightly faster. Aengus kept attempting his slow breaths and pressing his finger under his nose, but all too soon, his breath gave a warning hitch. “Hahh...”

Abruptly, he felt a sharp pinch on his right shoulder. He flinched, opening his eyes to look at Muriel in confusion. “Don't,” she said firmly, “I'm nearly finished. And then, if you can wait another minute for the cream to dry, you can sneeze freely. Hold it back; I'm certain you can.”

Aengus wasn't sure he shared her faith, but resolved to try for her sake. When he glanced inquisitively towards his shoulder, Muriel said “It's a trick I learned from the servants. When the dust overwhelms them as they clean in the spring, they claim that a bit of pain can cause the itch from the sneeze to temporarily retreat. From where I'm standing, they appear to be right.”

After a moment of consideration, Aengus agreed with her assessment; the itch in his nose had become less intense, though it was starting to grow again. Giving her a nod, he closed his eyes again and kept trying to breathe through his mouth. Seconds later, Muriel took her fingers away from his face, only to place her hand on his shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. The moment his breath hitched again, she promptly pinched his arm, allowing the itch to retreat for another few seconds. Aengus was grateful for her assistance, but wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out.

Then, mercifully, Muriel lightly touched his nose. “All right,” she said, “I think the cream has dried enough. It's safe to both breathe—and sneeze—properly.”

Aengus' eyes immediately flew open, snatching up the handkerchief from his lap and pressing it to his face. Due to a combination of his cold, the scent, and the time he'd spent resisting the sneeze, the end result was a loud fit of five sneezes. “Hah-EKISHHHHH!!! Ep-TISHHHH!!! Ih-KIPSSSHHHH!!! At-HISSSHHHHH!!! HEH-KAASSSHHHHHH!!!!”

The final sneeze was followed by an involuntary groan as Aengus attempted to recover himself. He took a careful breath through his nose, and while the scent was still strong enough to create another small itch, it had dissipated enough that he didn't think he'd suffer another fit like the one he'd just endured. With a sigh of relief, he carefully blew his nose, then looked over at Muriel. “Thank you,” he said, “I don't know what I would have done without you here.”

Muriel waited until he'd set down his handkerchief, then took his hand and pressed it. “I'm sure you would have found a way to resist the sneezes without me. But if you wish it, I can return every few hours to help you apply the cream, either by applying it myself or to help keep you from sneezing until the cream has dried.”

“I would appreciate that, my lady,” Aengus said, pressing her hand in return, “Both for your assistance, but also for your company.”

She smiled, her cheeks turning pink. “I would like that.”

Then she turned to fetch the tray that was still sitting on his storage chest. “Now then, you'd best eat your bread and broth before they get too cold. I'll keep you company until you've finished, then leave you to your rest. Until then, I can tell you about the goings-on in court, and you can tell me about your travels. I won't ask you to tell me about the results of your mission—King Jankin deserves to hear that first—but I'd love to hear about what Nascim is like, or what adventures you might have had on the road.”

Aengus smiled at her, feeling that gentle warmth engulfing him again. His chest still ached slightly from his sneezing, and he was sure his nose would continue to be sore to the touch for at least a day, to say nothing of the discomforts in store whenever he needed to reapply the cream. But he was in a soft, comfortable bed; he now had all the food, water, and handkerchiefs he could need; he was certain he would receive accolades for accomplishing his mission; and the noblest of ladies had pledged herself to helping him recover. Despite his cold, he really did feel well and truly blessed.

~~~

The original prompt: “Character only has one wet hanky to sneeze into. His nose gets all red and tender. Bonus points: the cream to soothe his nose has a strong scent and makes him sneeze.”