Chapter 16: Cantarella

A/N: I'm so sorry for the long wait! I was crazy busy with my job and a piano recital.

A/N 2: Just for the record… la cantarella was a kind of arsenic (a metal poison), supposedly used by the Borgias to poison their enemies. It is not, like Chiaro said, a plant. It's definitely not demon blood. One of it's uses is actually to make someone seem like they're dead by taking away any detectable pulse for four hours, and it's in the running with mandrake for possible poisons Juliet might have used to make herself appear dead in Romeo and Juliet. (How's that for a fun fact?)

That being said, since I'm so keen on sticking to the storyline (ha ha), I'm having Cesare call demon blood cantarella, though it's not. I just thought I'd clear that up first.

Also (and this is actually true to the manga, according to the end of Volume 4), Chiaro is not immune to Cesare's blood because he's immune to poisons. You can't make yourself immune to poisons in general. You can make yourself immune to specific poisons, sometimes, but that's not what happened with Chiaro. Chiaro is mostly immune to Cesare's blood because he can send away the demons. Trouble is, Pisano's blood was a lot worse than Cesare's, and it actually got inside Chiaro's wounds and into his bloodstream. So his system is having a really, really hard time with it.

Cesare woke up feeling well again. He still felt very warm, though. He turned to look at Chiaro, whose breathing sounded a little shallow. Cesare sat up and touched his forehead, then pulled back, alarmed. It was burning hot! "Chiaro?" he whispered. Why hadn't he noticed? Cesare put a hand to his own forehead, then understood. He hadn't noticed Chiaro had a fever because he'd had a fever too. But even so, he would have noticed if Chiaro was this warm, wouldn't he? He dipped his hand in the water on the other side of the bed and spread it across Chiaro's forehead. Chiaro stirred a little, but didn't respond.

Quickly, Cesare got to his feet and ran downstairs to see Volpe sitting by the door, guarding them. He really didn't appreciate Volpe enough, did he? "Tagio?"

Volpe looked up and quickly got to his feet. "Master Cesare?"

"First… thank you for all of your help."

"It is my honor to serve you," Volpe said, bowing.

"Second… I want to know where you found the doctor."

"Did he displease you?"

"No… but Chiaro's gotten worse and I need him again."

"Then I will go and retrieve him."

"You don't need to; I can."

"Forgive me, Cesare, but people are looking for whoever killed everyone in Pisano's castle, and I would rather it not be common knowledge that you are near his castle."

"How do you know we can trust the doctor, then?" Cesare asked.

"I don't. What is this worth to you?"

Cesare paused only briefly. "Please go find him. And when you come back, get some sleep. I am well enough to guard us now."

"Yes, Master Cesare." He bowed and walked out the door.

Cesare paused, then went back to Chiaro, who was moving restlessly in his sleep. He sat on the edge of the bed and pressed his hand to Chiaro's hot cheek. Chiaro's eyelids fluttered then opened. They were bright with fever and seemed to look right through Cesare before they slowly focused. "Ce… sa… re…."

"Shh," Cesare said. "Don't try to talk." He took the glass of water from the bedside table and put an arm around Chiaro to lift him. "Drink." He put the edge of the cup to Chiaro's lips and poured some of the water into his mouth. At first Chiaro swallowed, but then he began to choke, then tried to breathe and choked again. Cesare lifted Chiaro all the way. Chiaro continued to choke, and what seemed to be most of the water dripped from his mouth. Then he went limp. "Chiaro?" But Chiaro was breathing, with only an occasional choke. He'd exhausted himself, that was all. Cesare breathed a sigh of relief that turned into a sigh of worry halfway through. How would Chiaro get better if he couldn't even drink water? Carefully, he laid his friend back down, propping him on the pillows. He was far, far too hot. Had he been this sick yesterday? Why hadn't he said anything?

Cesare looked away, sighing. Of course he hadn't said anything. Cesare well remembered the blank look on Chiaro's face when Cesare had asked him who would protect and care for him. Chiaro didn't think of himself. He'd been so concerned about Cesare and saving him from the demons… and Cesare had simply failed to notice. "I will be very annoyed if you die through sheer stupidity," Cesare said, turning to Chiaro. Chiaro didn't respond, and Cesare felt a thrill of terror. He began to pace. Why hadn't he realized Chiaro was still in danger? He'd been tortured and poisoned! Why hadn't he thought? He put a hand to his face. "Damn it," he whispered.

Then there were footsteps on the stair. Cesare looked around for a sword—why wasn't he wearing a sword?—but it was only Volpe and the doctor. The doctor looked disheveled and Cesare realized for the first time that it was the middle of the night. "Yes, sir?" the doctor asked.

"My friend is sick. Please help him."

"Yes, sir." The doctor went and felt Chiaro's forehead, and Cesare resumed pacing. After a moment, he heard a hissing sound and turned to see that Chiaro's eyes were open, and his body was twitching. "Sir, he's panicking."

"Chiaro?" Cesare went and sat on the bed. As soon as Chiaro saw him, his body relaxed and his eyes lost their fear and filled with trust. Cesare swallowed a little. He didn't deserve that trust. "Chiaro, it's okay. I called the doctor because you got sicker."

Chiaro twitched a little and looked scared again. His eyes looked downward, looking at his body. The fear in his eyes grew stronger. Cesare took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Chiaro couldn't move. Pisano's blood had finally gotten to him. Of course. Cesare could do that too, have his blood affect someone immediately or up to a week later, depending on his designs. Why hadn't he thought?

He leaned forward, cradling Chiaro's head and pressing his forehead against Chiaro's. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'll take care of you, and I won't let anyone hurt you. Just relax so the doctor can treat you, okay?" He pulled away. Chiaro looked a little surprised, but the panic in his eyes had faded. Cesare looked at the doctor. "I think… the weapon that was used… was poisoned."

"Poisoned?" The doctor looked alarmed. "Do you happen to know… with what?"

Cesare sighed a little. "Have you heard of cantarella?"

"No."

"Just do what you can for him, then. You can't blame him if he's a little jumpy. He was just tortured, as I'm sure you figured out." He looked back at Chiaro, who was still awake, looking nervous. "It's all right," Cesare told him, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. "I'll stay right here." Chiaro gave a barely perceptible nod. "Go ahead, doctor. Keep in mind that money is no object, and you will be well rewarded if he pulls through."

"Yes sir. Thank you." The doctor lifted the blanket, and Chiaro began to shake, though he didn't struggle. A few moments later, he fell asleep. He didn't wake again as the doctor undid his bandages. Cesare swallowed when he saw Chiaro's skin. It was redder than it should have been, even accounting for the light of the fire, and he was shining with sweat. Some of his wounds began to bleed again now that they were unwrapped, and many of them looked redder than they had been. He wasn't healing. He hadn't been healing. He was only getting worse. The doctor cleaned the wounds again with wine, undoing where he'd stitched to wash them again.

Chiaro gave a slight moan. "Ce… sa…." His voice was barely more than a whisper. Cesare sat on the other side of the bed and took his hand while the doctor poured wine over his back. Chiaro's hand tightened briefly and then he relaxed. Then the doctor examined, cleaned, and rewrapped his hands.

"You're right, it does seem like the wounds themselves were poisoned," the doctor said. "Do you happen to know if there's a remedy?"

"I don't think so." He just had to hope Chiaro's body would fight it.

"Well, for now, take these herbs." The doctor handed him several paper packages. "They should reduce fever and pain. Brew them in tea and give them to him. You may need to spoon-feed it to him."

Cesare nodded. "Have you got a spoon?"

The doctor looked through his bag, then looked a little more frantically. "I'm… I'm sorry, sir, I must have taken it out for cleaning."

Where was Pedro when Cesare needed him? "Very well, stay with Chiaro for a few moments." He left the room and went down to the kitchen. Which was locked, since it was the dog watch of the night. And judging from his outstanding skill picking the locks on Chiaro's manacles earlier, he'd probably get caught trying to pick the locks before he actually succeeded. He looked around the tables, but everything had been cleaned up.

"Master Cesare?" Volpe had followed him.

"Did you bring any spoons?" Cesare asked. He knew he hadn't.

"No. Why?"

"Would you go and buy one?"

"In the morning. Nothing is open now."

Cesare gave a heavy sigh. He went to the kitchen door and tried to force it through sheer strength.

"Master Cesare, what are you doing?" Volpe demanded coming and pulling him back. "Are you trying to get us in trouble?"

Cesare growled and went back upstairs. "There are no spoons," he said to the doctor.

"So give it to him mouth to mouth."

"Mouth to… what?" Cesare felt himself turn red. "No."

"Do you want me to?"

"No."

"Sir, he needs water at the very least. This isn't really a good situation to stand on ceremony."

Cesare glared at him. Then he put a hand to his face. "Very well. Come back in the morning, please, and bring a spoon."

"Yes, sir." He waited for a moment for Cesare to pay him, but Cesare wanted to be sure he would return. After another moment, the doctor left. Cesare sighed and went to refill the water glass. His attention was arrested by a sudden shout, and running up the stairs. A moment later, the doctor burst through the door. "He's trying to kill me!"

"What?"

Volpe came through the door a moment later, sword drawn. "He knows who you are."

"That doesn't mean you should kill him." Cesare put a hand on the doctor's shoulder. Volpe did have a point. They couldn't just let him go if people were looking for Cesare and he knew who Cesare was. But Cesare still needed the doctor, and if he managed to save Chiaro, killing him would seem rather ungrateful. "What is your name?" he asked the doctor.

"R-Roberto, sir," the doctor stammered.

"Well, Roberto, I hope you will not be unduly upset by our extended hospitality. You will, of course, be released as soon as we leave here and well rewarded for your trouble. Is there anyone you would like us to contact for you to inform them of the desperate case you've taken on?"

The doctor was breathing a little more easily now. "Y-yes, sir, if you p-please, my wife…."

"Tagio, please find out where this man lives and take a message to his wife. Please do not kill him unless he tries to escape. I still need him, and he's no use to me dead."

Volpe bowed and sheathed his sword. "You are certain about this?"

"I'd prefer not to take more lives than is necessary." Cesare briefly registered the irony of his own statement before heading back to the bedside with the cup of water. "Please don't wake up," he muttered. Before he could argue himself out of it, he took a sip of the water, held it in his mouth, and gently pressed his lips against Chiaro's, opening them a little to pass the water through. He quickly pulled away and watched Chiaro swallow.

Well, he hadn't woken up. And more importantly, Cesare hadn't found it at all pleasant, which was actually what he'd been worried about. He'd been very careful not to even let his thoughts drift in that direction, being worried about his inability to draw normal relationship boundaries. But Volpe's actions had forced him to examine his feelings, and he'd been a bit worried about what he would find. He'd been lying about his proposal being a complete joke. He hadn't been serious about it, of course, but he'd partially wanted to remind himself, just in case, that that kind of relationship was very much off limits. But apparently he'd had no reason to worry. This was awkward. Chiaro's lips were much too hot, which only made him worry, and he obviously hadn't shaved in at least five days. The idea of kissing him for pleasure suddenly seemed quite disturbing. Cesare gave a laugh and a sigh of relief and took another sip.

Sip after sip, he managed to get about halfway through the glass before Volpe came in, just as he was pulling away from Chiaro. Volpe raised his eyebrows, and Cesare felt his face flame. "I was wondering what you want me to do with the doctor," Volpe said mildly.

"Give him something to eat and a place to sleep."

"Very well."

"And I don't have a spoon and he can't drink, so this is the only way I can give him water," Cesare said, wondering why he felt he had to defend himself.

"That's convenient," Volpe replied impassively.

Cesare felt his face grow hotter. "Would you rather do it?" he demanded.

"Oh, no, by all means enjoy yourself," Volpe said, leaving the room.

"I'm not!" Cesare shouted after him. Cursing, he sat back down and looked at Chiaro again and sighed. He took another sip and passed the water through Chiaro's lips, which twitched a little. Cesare pulled back immediately, but Chiaro's eyes were still closed. "Chiaro, are you awake?" There was no response. "Chiaro?" Still no response.

Sighing, Cesare took another sip and leaned forward. Chiaro's eyes suddenly opened wide, and Cesare pulled back, gasping and breathing in some of the water in the process. He choked for a moment, then looked at Chiaro, who was smiling a little. Cesare glared at him. "It's not funny!" he said loudly.

Chiaro's eyes looked away, but he continued to smile.

"I'm serious!" Cesare said, almost yelling. "There is nothing funny about you being so sick you can't even drink by yourself!"

Chiaro's smile faded and he looked back at Cesare. He gave a little "cheer up" smile.

"No," Cesare said. "Stop it. It's not funny, and it's not okay. Why didn't you tell me you were so sick? Maybe… maybe there could have been something…." Cesare looked away. Nothing could have been done. If Chiaro's fate was sealed, it had been sealed as soon as he'd held onto Pisano so Pisano would die. "Chiaro, you idiot. Why would you… do something like that? What if…?" Tears escaped and he put up a hand to cover his face.

"Ce… sa…."

Cesare uncovered his face to look at Chiaro, who looked worried. "Idiot," he said. "Why are you worrying about me? Stupid idiot." He rubbed at his face. "I'm going to build up the fire."

…

Chiaro watched Cesare get up and poke at the fire, putting another log on it. He felt a little nettled that his attempt to lighten the mood had been such a brilliant failure, especially since Cesare completely deserved it for the crack about being in love with Chiaro, but he felt guilty for making Cesare so upset. But if he couldn't joke about it, he had to think about it, and he was trying very hard not to. He was scared. He'd never felt trapped in his own body before. Although the devil wasn't whispering to him now, he could feel his fever, and he didn't want to die. And his thoughts and feelings were becoming a little strange, like he was half-dreaming even while he was awake. He wished Cesare were still sitting beside him.

After what seemed like forever but was probably only about half a minute, Cesare finally came and sat back on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry," he said gently, taking Chiaro's hand. "I just… don't want you to joke about this. If you die, I don't think I'll ever be able to laugh again."

Chiaro said nothing, not sure what kind of facial expression would reassure Cesare.

"I'm going to give you the rest of the water. I'm sorry it's awkward, and I'll have a spoon tomorrow, but for now this will have to do, and you need to drink."

Chiaro summoned his strength and managed to nod. He was too tired and in too much pain to feel awkward about Cesare giving him the rest of the water. And it meant that Cesare was staying close to him, which was good. It seemed that only Cesare's presence was shielding him from the nightmares that crouched at the corners of his mind. Which was a little ironic when he thought about it, but on the other hand… the devil had said something about the two of them together defeating him. And he felt safe with Cesare, in spite of everything. After finishing the water, Cesare sat beside him and drew Chiaro close so that he was lying in his lap. Surprisingly, this movement wasn't painful, and Cesare's lap was remarkably comfortable. He was a little confused, but then realized that Cesare had chosen this position in order to remain able to defend them should something happen. He felt himself relax, which took away a lot of the pain, and closed his eyes. He felt Cesare's fingers stroking his hair.

Some part of him wanted to resist this treatment. It wasn't right for Cesare to be the one taking care of him. And it felt strange. No one had ever done this, not since he was a very, very small child. And yet… he badly wanted it to continue. He'd trained himself to ignore any desire to be cared for, and comforted, and loved, but all of his training seemed to be coming unraveled. It felt so good. He sighed a little. This was too good for him, and it would have to be paid for eventually… but he would worry about it later. Right now, what he wanted more than anything in the world was for Cesare to stay with him and keep holding him. "S-stay," he managed to whisper.

"I will," Cesare promised. "Don't worry. Just go to sleep."

…

Cesare stroked Chiaro's forehead, watching him sleep. He watched Volpe come in and settle in the other bed after laying some blankets on the floor for the doctor. Volpe looked at him a little uneasily, as though he wasn't sure Cesare could really defend against anybody from his position, but apparently he decided Cesare was capable enough, since he went to sleep.

Cesare leaned back against the headboard, one hand rubbing Chiaro's back and the other stroking his forehead. His mind still echoed with what had only been the second request Chiaro had ever made of him in all their time together. "Stay." He had to admit, he liked it much better than the first.

Where had that trust come from? Had Cesare given Chiaro any reason to trust him? Well… yes, he supposed. He had never hurt Chiaro, not really. He'd never let him be in need. He had protected Chiaro when they were with Pisano, but Chiaro had trusted him before that.

Cesare stared into the darkness, remembering back to when Chiaro had first joined him. He'd felt bad about it at the time. Some part of him that was still human told him he was really doing a terrible thing when he invited Chiaro to be his knight. He'd thought Chiaro felt forced to follow him regardless, but he'd wanted Chiaro to want to serve him. He'd seen Chiaro's tears over his father, seen that he was bereaved and lonely. And he'd used it. Who better to be his companion than someone who was too desperate to care that he was a monster? Who better to make his right hand man than someone who had no place anywhere else? He had commandeered the loyalty of a heartbroken orphan. He hadn't wanted to protect Chiaro. He hadn't wanted to take care of him, and comfort him, and be a friend to him. He'd wanted Chiaro's light, and he'd wanted Chiaro's service. He had had absolutely no altruistic motives whatsoever. And he'd known, even then, that he was doing a terrible thing. But he'd done it. And Chiaro was grateful. He loved Cesare, far more than he ought to, all for Cesare seizing the reins of his heart.

"Stay."

Cesare sighed softly. He wanted more than anything to be the kind of master—the kind of friend—that Chiaro deserved. He wanted to deserve the trust he had seen on Chiaro's face. He wanted to promise Chiaro that he would always protect him, always care for him, never hurt him… but he didn't know if he could promise any of that. But there was one thing he could promise, and it seemed to be the one thing Chiaro wanted more than anything else. Always, he thought. As long as I live, you will always be mine. You will always belong. If I can help it at all, you will never be alone.

As if sensing his thoughts, Chiaro smiled a little in his sleep. Cesare touched the corner of his mouth thoughtfully. I wish I could find some way to keep you smiling. I think I'd give almost anything. He leaned down and kissed Chiaro's forehead. I love you. Sleep well. He leaned back and closed his eyes, heightening his senses so he would wake up if there was an intruder.

….

"Are you afraid?" the voice whispered into Chiaro's dreams.

No. Even asleep, Chiaro could feel Cesare's presence surrounding him. He'd given up feeling guilty for the moment. All he felt was comfort.

"You should be. Do you think he can defend against everything? What if a bunch of assassins came and attacked? Who would protect him? Volpe?"

Chiaro swallowed. They would all die. God, please….

"Oh, calling on God now?" the devil scoffed. "Cesare was abandoned by God at birth, and so are you by association."

I don't believe that.

"Do you think you can cow me by acting brave?" The devil sounded amused. "Pitiful fool. You can't move. Can't protect him. Can't even protect yourself."

Chiaro tried desperately to move. Pain racked his body and he had to force himself not to cry out.

…

Cesare heard whimpering and woke immediately. Chiaro was still in his lap, but he was breathing hard, whimpering and moaning a little. His eyes were wide open, staring at nothing. "Chiaro?"

Chiaro didn't reply, just continued to stare, shivering. Cesare smoothed the hair from his forehead, and Chiaro's eyes snapped to his face. Slowly, recognition came to them. "Cesa…" he whispered, a little of the panic fading for a moment, but only a moment, and then he began to shake again. He started making sounds like he was trying to talk, but couldn't move his lips, and suddenly there were tears in his eyes. What was going on?

Then Cesare heard them. He'd become so immune to the whispering demons that he had failed to realize that they were now whispering to Chiaro, and though Chiaro's light was still keeping away Cesare's demons, they weren't sending away his own tormentors.

"Stop it," Cesare hissed at them. "He's mine. Don't touch him."

He heard laughter. "He's going to die. Do you know how much poison he took?"

Cesare's heart clenched in terror. But the demons had lied to him before. "Just leave him alone," Cesare said. "Your claim is on me, not him."

"We'll take every one we can get. And he does belong to a demon, after all."

Cesare didn't bother arguing this point. "I'm not yours yet, and neither is he. So shut up and go away."

For some reason, the demons actually listened to him and quieted, and Chiaro seemed to calm down a little. Cesare lay down beside him so he could draw him close, trying not to touch his wounds too much. "It's okay," he whispered. He stroked Chiaro's hair and back. "It's all right. Nothing's going to hurt you. I'll protect you."

Slowly, Chiaro's breathing relaxed until he was sleeping peacefully in Cesare's arms. He was heavy and reassuringly solid, even if his body was still far, far too warm. "Don't die," Cesare whispered into his hair. "Please don't."