Zeragii, here on FFN, has been giving us so much Cacofonix-love that I, having no will of my own, have caught the bug. With much love.
The banquet was over. The villagers had weaved off to bed, in varying stages of inebriation; Geriatrix had been chivvied home by his lovely young wife, and Vitalstatistix shooed home by the redoubtable Impedimenta. Obelix, the last to leave, had heaved a huge yawn, taken the final boar with him and stumped off to Asterix's, still munching. He'd missed the roast boar Fulliautomatix had hidden under the tablecloth, the bard's share. Fulliautomatix had left the table, but he hadn't gone home yet. He knelt beside the big oak where he'd deposited the village bard, bound and gagged, a few hours earlier. "All right, Cacofonix?"
The bard nodded. Behind his gag, his eyes were sleepy and soft, and Fulliautomatix felt a wave of affection for him. It was a shame he always insisted on singing, and nothing short of restraints would shut him up. He was a good sport about it, although angry that the village barbarians didn't appreciate his art. It was odd that he couldn't hear his own caterwauling for what it was; still, it wasn't his fault that he had a voice like a sistrum. And, as their druid had once remarked, Cacofonix was a good sort: an excellent sort, the best heart and the sweetest disposition under the sun. Fulliautomatix knew it as well as anyone.
Fulliatutomatix couldn't quite pinpoint the time he had started taking over the job of tying up the bard. He'd noticed that the others tied him clumsily, in a way that might injure his wrists or hands, especially for long periods. Despite his execrable voice, their bard actually had a beautiful touch when playing upon his lyre; but on the days after banquets, Fulliautomatix had noticed Cacofonix holding the instrument stiffly, as though his hands pained him. It had caused an uncomfortable ache in his chest. Their bard had the same resistance to being bashed over the head as all the village Gauls had, courtesy of the magic potion, but his slim, long-fingered musician's hands, so much more delicate than any of the other villagers', were clearly sensitive to having the blood-flow cut off for so long. And so, Fulliautomatix had made it his business to take over the job of tying up the bard so it wouldn't hurt him.
It hadn't been much of a job at first: he'd just made sure the man's hands and wrists weren't tied too tightly, and protected them with a soft cloth before winding the ropes round them. Then he'd hit upon the idea of cocooning Cacofonix in rope, so the pressure would be diffused, not concentrated in one area, and not damaging to his hands. Later, it had made sense, since he was the one who'd tied him up, for him to take over the job of untying Cacofonix himself. Fulliautomatix would assess the condition of the bard's hands, making sure they were all right, pressing and massaging them lightly while Cacofonix looked on in bemusement, then setting off home. Only he'd realized that the bard would be so stiff from being restrained for so long that he didn't have the dexterity needed to climb the long staircase leading up to his house, and more often than not – with his delicate constitution! – spent the night in the damp grass. That explained why he was often ill following banquets. Upon realizing this, Fulliautomatix had taken to carrying Cacofonix up to bed and making sure he was warm and dry. It had been worth the embarrassment of carrying him like a child and nursemaiding him to bed, to know that the skinny bard's health wouldn't suffer.
He still felt the need to be seen by as few people as possible, though, just to keep his reputation intact. So Fulliautomatix had waited till Obelix, the last of the villagers, was well and truly out of sight, and the nightbirds had started to sing again. That was when he went over and cut the rope, careful to catch Cacofonix – he would be so stiff he couldn't land properly. Fulliautomatix wasn't on the potion, so he took a few moments to untie the knots, then unwrapped the cocoon around the skinny bard. Although spreading the bonds over a larger area was the best way to avoid making the man sore, that didn't change the fact that he'd been tied up for hours; he crumpled as soon as he was unbound. Fulliautomatix had to catch him in his arms, or he'd have fallen.
He cradled the bard, still gagged, bravely facing his friendly opponent and sometime nemesis. Cacofonix's eyes showed anger, but also a kind of friendly resignation. Fulliautomatix moved his hand to pull off the gag: he knew Cacofonix was too stiff to do it himself.
"Barbarians," was the first word out of Cacofonix's mouth. His eyes, though, were smiling. Fulliautomatix could tell he appreciated being taken care of afterwards, appreciated knowing he mattered. "I'll have you know my voice could charm the birds off the trees."
Fulliautomatix snorted. "Only if they fell off the branches dead of a heart attack."
The bard rolled his eyes in resignation. "You don't know what you're missing. That in itself is punishment enough for you!"
His voice was weak, and that worried Fulliautomatix. "Can you stand?" he asked softly.
"Maybe not just yet," said Cacofonix, a little embarrassed.
"Sorry about that. Come on."
Fulliautomatix cradled the bard more securely against his chest, and started up the long, winding staircase up to his house in the treetop, Cacofonix in his arms. He nudged the door open with his shoulder, and bent to lay the bard gently down upon his bed. "There," he muttered unnecessarily, squeezing the man's stiff shoulders for a moment. "Hang on." He sprinted down the stairs, retrieved Cacofonix's lyre and the roast boar he'd saved for him, and jogged up again. "Your boar's in the pantry," he called as he set it down, "and your lyre's here, on its hook." He came back to the bed. "Let's see your hands."
Without waiting for an answer, he lifted the bard's long, slim right hand, a little pale and swollen from the restraints, and sandwiched it flat between both of his, pressing gently. The sigh of relief from Cacofonix healed something he hadn't known was hurting him, and he kept up the pressure massage until the hand was warm and pink again, then repeated the treatment with the left. Satisfied Cacofonix would be all right, he drew the blanket up to his chin, tucking it in around him. "Good night."
Cacofonix smiled up at him, looking warm, sleepy and secure. "I'd sing for you," he murmured, "but you're a barbarian."
"Right." On an impulse, Fulliautomatix smoothed back the bard's hair, the way he did with his children. "Sleep well."
The bard closed his eyes happily. "Good night."
"Good night."
In the interests of completism, I feel obliged to point out that there is a straight-up explicit totally-consensual BDSM version of this on the Archive of our Own. Not that my FFN friends would be interested in that or anything...