“‘Guest’ he says! After all that bother, the best he can do is a...a….[i]A-CHOO!!!”[/i]

Dolce offered up a whole pile of clean handkerchiefs to the bemoaning mound of quilts. A hand snaked out from under the mass, patted about blindly, paused fondly when it encountered his wool, then snatched up a handkerchief and darted back under the covers. 

“Hmph! Was ruining our date not good enough for you, miserable guest? Fiend? What’s the use of fawning over Apollo if you won’t put in a good word for your Captain? What have I ever done to you that you’d wish me ill of the plague? Maybe Jas’o was onto something. Maybe I ought to have you carry Alexa about the ship for a day. No, a week! A week for the rude [i]guest[/i] to rectify extreme moral turpitude, and [i]then-”[/i]

Her plans for Galnius’ labors withered beneath a terrible fit of coughing. Dolce hauled himself up atop the wide, soft bed they shared, and sat beside her pillow. All he could see of her was a wrinkled nose, a pair of red, watery eyes, and a disheveled fan of hair. All she’d let him see of her. He felt her brow, and grimaced; still feverish. “Shhhhhhhhh. You can figure out what to do to Galnius tomorrow,” he gently shushed her, hand moving to stroke through her hair. “You need to rest.”

“It’s just, the [i]injustice[/i] of it all.” She managed a pout with only half her face. But. Still leaned into his touch. “I can’t figure...I can’t abide it. I just can’t, I…” Her gaze grew distant, and oh, what he would have given to see what she could see. But she merely sighed bitterly, and nestled in deeper. All she’d let him see of her. “You deserved a better day than this, darling. So many better days…”

He leaned over, and gently kissed her brow. “We’re still together,” he murmured. “How bad can it be?”

A low purr rumbled in her throat, even as her watering eyes screwed shut. “You’ve locked the door, yes?”

“Locked and bolted.”

“No one will try to get in?”

“I’ve informed the crew you are not to be disturbed until further notice.”

“And you’ll be here?”

“Always.”

“...promise?”

He gently nuzzled at her head.

“Always, my Lady.”

********************

Despite it all, she did not sleep easily. Dolce counted the minutes until she settled down. Until her breathing slowed. Until the whispered moans and pleadings stopped. All the while, he stroked her head, gliding his fingers through her hair without the slightest tug to disturb her.

Only when she was quiet, and deep in the grip of fevered sleep, did he open his mouth to pray.

“Hera…” He pleaded beneath his breath. “Please, visit me again. I will make you a feast as before. I will lay it out in the ways that you like it. I will do all I can to make it pleasing to you, but please,” His eyes fell on his sleeping wife, and his voice cracked. “[i]Please.[/i] All I can do is no longer enough, and I...Hera, I cannot fail now. I cannot.” Was it disrespectful to wipe away tears while praying? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t risk it. “Tell me what I must do. Tell me how I can serve and save my friends. Please, Hera…”