Florian & Emil & Julian - Aftermath (Patreon)

“I’m never getting all the blood out of my hair,” Emil sinks lower into the tub, the scent of bergamot and jasmine wafting from the steaming water.

Your hair is still damp from your own bath but you fall back against the bed regardless. At least this inn is one of the nicer ones; the sheets don’t feel rough, and the pillows aren’t bricks. You’ll take both of those things as victories.

“Julian and Florian should be back by now,” You turn your head to look at the door, your eyes narrowing as if your stare might make the two materialize.

“Liris is a big city,” Emil reasons, running a sudsy cloth up and down his arms, “Besides, Julian’s sister was around in the aftermath. She probably wanted to talk.”

“Or accost Florian,” You point out.

His face sours, lips pulling down into a frown, “Yes, or that.”

“Do you think she’s upset they wanted to come here rather than stay at her estate?” You ask curiously, “She seemed rather miffed when we declined the invite, and we’re neither her brother or king.”

“I have every expectation that she’s horribly insulted and will be absolutely insufferable on the morrow,” Emil says wryly.

“Great,” You toss your head back on your pillow, “Can’t wait for that.”

The other two have excellent timing, as the door to their rented room flie open, leaving Julian to stumble in. The alchemist looks half dead; it’s clear he’s exhausted, and you see what looks to be chemical burn on the back on his hand. You sit up, alarmed, pinning him down with your gaze. Florian, who’d been coming in behind Julian, freezes slightly when he sees your face. Then the king snickers, glancing at Julian with a smug look.

“Told you you’d be in trouble if you didn’t see the healer,” Florian mutters, closing the door behind him.

Emil’s gaze snaps to Florian and then to Julian. His eyes trail down until he sees the mark on Julian, same as you did.

“And why, by all the Gods above and below, did you not get that taken care of?” Emil starts before you even get the chance to open you mouth, “That looks like it’s going to blister!”

“I’m tired,” Julian says, his voice a borderline whine, “The line for the healer was atrociously long, and some of those people actually looked half dead. I’m an alchemist, burns are our thing. I figured I’d be fine.”

“Leydon was particularly aggressive this time around,” Florian mutters, leaning against the wall with brows furrowed, “Wren, could you-”

“I’m trying,” You purse your lips, “She doesn’t respond anymore. Not since…well…”

The king winces in understanding, glancing away. Emil sighs noisily from the tub, watching the three of you with an annoyed gaze.

“No strategy,” The necromancer snips, “I tire of talking about all the ways we plan to kill people.”

Florian doesn’t respond, pushing away from the wall to approach Emil. He sheds his cloak, letting it fall carelessly to the ground, and pulls his bloodied shirt up over his head. The dark expanse of skin he reveals draws every eye in the room as he pulls his boots and pants off next.

Emil glares as he realizes what Florian has in mind, “No. No. If you want your own bath, order one. This is mine.”

The king grins, “Why order another when there’s a perfectly good one already here? Speaking of, dearest Julian, you want in? The tub is big enough for three.”

“Absolutely not,” Emil insists, “It’s not even hygienic at that point.”

Julian muffles a laugh, “Yeah, thanks, but I’ll have to pass on the communal bath.”

“While I’m glad you have some sense, don’t think I forgot about your hand,” Emil points at the alchemist sharply, “And you, your highness; quit splashing the water.”

Florian watches sheepishly as the small waves he makes getting in the tub send some water sloshing over the edge. Emil huffs pointedly.

Julian fixes his attention on you then, holding his hand out with a puppy eyed expression you’re almost certain he practices in the mirror, “Would my lovely saint be so kind as to heal my hand?”

“Your lovely saint is going to knock you upside the head if you aren’t more careful with explosive powders,” You say, going to him regardless.

Your fingers glow with a golden light as you kneel at his side, taking his hand in yours. The burn disappears before your eyes, and you see some of the tension on Julian’s face ease. He reaches forward, brushing a strand of damp hair from your eyes.

“Thanks,” He gives you a small grin, crooked and mischievous, but still more genuine than most people have seen from him.

When you stand again, you see Florian watching you with warm eyes, “Ari would be proud.”

“Ari was about to bludgeon me to death earlier when I almost stepped on the damn relic we were looking for,” You roll your eyes.

The king just shrugs, “She has her moments.”

“I’d remember you aren’t her favorite right now either,” Julian points out, “You and Emil were supposed to stay in Kesdon. Who’s even running the kingdom right now? You both burst in to save the day, when it didn’t even need saving mind you, and Ebia’s throne is vacant as a result.”

“Not vacant,” Florian shifts, glancing away, “Ezrah has things under control.”

Your eyes damn near fall out out of your head they get so wide, “Ezrah? My brother? That Ezrah?”

“He’s…capable.” Florian coughs into his fist, “And Orion is there!”

Julian sags a little, looking entirely hopeless, “Please do not let the Queen of Leydon know we’re letting her runaway general sit the throne in your absense. She might join the battle to have your head personally for the insult.”

“I would have let Rowan, if we’re being entirely honest, but Emil tossed that idea.” Florian pouts slightly.

“I don’t trust them around the council,” Emil says blithely, “I fear we might return to them all slaughtered if we leave Rowan anywhere near a seat of power in our absence.”

“That was my hope,” The king quips in response.

Julian snorts, shoulders shaking from the force of his laughter. Emil gives them both a disapproving look.

It’s quiet for some time, and Julian eventually slips back down to get the barmaid to fetch another tub for him to wash up as well. It arrives quickly, the servants bowing the whole time they pull it into the room. You all had tried to be subtle, but it’s clear the staff is aware of your stations despite your efforts.

Emil gets out of the water before Florian, slipping into a robe and drying their hair by hand with a towel. Florian and Julian exit their respective tubs around the same time, though Julian can’t be fussed to deal with a towel and dries his hair with magic.

“That causes frizz, you know.” Emil says as he curls into your side, watching Julian suck the moisture from his hair using a bit of elemental magic.

“Well, it’s a good thing my looks are fucked already.” He jokes in turn, though it doesn’t quite land the way he wants it to.

He’s used to deflecting with self deprecation, to bringing himself down before anyone else has the chance to. You frown, looking at him with sad eyes until he falters, glancing away.

“You’re pretty,” Emil rolls his eyes, “With or without frizzy hair. Though you should take care of your curls, you know. I’m sure Florian could give you some tips.”

“I have so many oils for my hair back home,” The king confesses as he falls back on the bed, “It’s probably a little ridiculous.”

Julian hides a smile, looking away as he pulls a loose white blouse over his head, “I’ll let you do my hair one evening, then.”

“Of course,” Florian brightens, “The trick is massaging it into the scalp.”

“A massage?” Julian raises an eyebrow and he comes to stand at the edge of the bed, “This is sounding better and better.”

You reach a hand out over Florian and Julian takes it, letting himself be pulled down with the rest of you onto the too-small bed. He falls halfway across you and Florian, only a stray flailing arm being caught by Emil. Florian immediately takes the opportunity to kiss Julian, his warm hands cupping the other man’s face as he draws him closer.

Emil watches them fondly, resting his head on your shoulder as he laces his fingers with Julian’s. You reach over to run a hand through the alchemist’s brown hair, enjoying the way he tries to split his attention between the three of you. He ends up in a heap of limbs spread across everyone, so entwined it’s hard to tell where each of you start and end.

Florian is soon pressed against your side, his nose brushing against your neck as you feel his breathing slow. Emil isn’t much better, practically slumped over on you and Julian both. They had ridden a long ways to get to Liris when Kesdon received word of Leydon’s troops at Ebian borders.

“Poor babies,” Julian snarks, but his voice remains quiet so he doesn’t stir them.

“They both worry,” The whisper back sympathetically, “Emil especially, and Florian can work himself into a fit. It’s my fault, really.”

You’d died once, after all. Your lovers were expressly concerned with keeping you here for good since your return.

Julian hums in agreement, “You are rather troublesome.”

Biting back a grin, you nudge him sharply with your elbow. He snickers, leaning over Florian to press a kiss soundly to your mouth. Julian has always kissed in an all-consuming way; his hand cupping the back of your neck, his lips warm and soft, his urgency endearing. You lose yourself to it until the movement makes Florian grumble in discontent, burrowing further into your shoulder as he sleeps.

Julian pulls away, but not before pressing another quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Get some rest, dear saint.” He says quietly, “We need you to plan another miracle.”

“No pressure,” You say dryly.

“None at all,” He agrees, settling down as well.

You wouldn’t think it’d be comfortable, sharing a bed that was made for two with four. You all manage it somehow, though, drifting off as the night comes to hang over Liris with grim darkness. You’re safe in this room, though, with all of them. That’s enough for now. Tomorrow is another matter, with new problems and no solutions, but it’ll just have to wait. For now, as your eyes slip closed, you’re content being wrapped up in the three people you love most.