Summary: Diavolos’ thoughts and feelings as Kenna recovers from her attack. Set directly after Always.
Diavolos can’t remember the last time he cried. He assumes he probably did after his mother died, though he doesn’t remember. But beyond that, he can’t think of a time he’s come close to shedding any tears, because his father always snapped at him to stop, or threatened to beat him. Even after Baltair and Seoras had died right in front of him, Diavolos had just tossed back a stiff drink and gone right back into battle.
But seeing Kenna pale and gasping for breath in his arms, her blood soaking through his shirt, reduces him to tears. Holding her hand and talking to her day after day, watching her night after night and wishing he could just will her to get better, sometimes makes him cry when he finally goes up to their bedchambers. They’re noiseless tears that he doesn’t even bother wiping away, because he’s so consumed by thoughts of the woman he loves, lying in an infirmary bed downstairs. He refuses to think about what will happen if she doesn’t pull through this, doesn’t even want to entertain that possibility.
After a few days, Kenna finally starts stirring, much to his relief, but the near silent noises she makes crush him with their anguish. She squirms uncomfortably, though the healer tells Diavolos she’s much more relaxed when he’s there, squeezing her fingers and talking to her. He tells her he loves her, that she’s okay, that she’s safe, and it seems to settle her.
He’s frustrated when he doesn’t make it to the infirmary in time when she briefly wakes up and asks for him, and stubbornly refuses to leave her side after that. Diavolos knows how terrible he must look, disheveled and exhausted, but the sound of Kenna saying his name when she finally wakes up for more than a few seconds is worth it. Her fingers are gentle and full of warmth again as she brushes a tear from his face, looking at him with concern.
Kenna asks him to stay after the healer leaves, her eyelids drooping closed, and he reassures her he will. “Always,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to her palm.
She unsurprisingly turns out to be a terrible patient, pleading with the healer to let her go back to her and Diavolos’ bedchambers two days later. The healer finally throws her hands up and gives in, giving them both a stern lecture on Kenna needing to rest and making sure she doesn’t rip her stitches open. When they get upstairs, Diavolos gently helps her undress. He can’t help but drink in the sight of her, his fingertips brushing over her bare skin. Kenna smirks a little, until he says, “Gods, I missed you” and kisses her, and then she sucks in a breath and sighs, her good arm wrapping around his back.
“I love you,” she murmurs.
“I love you, too.”
He gets her settled in bed, then strips out of his clothes and lays next to her, mindful of her wound as he runs his fingers over her side. Kenna watches him in the firelight.
“What is it?” Diavolos asks, leaning down to press his lips to hers.
“I just want to feel you,” she says quietly, gliding her right hand down his bare chest and stomach.
Diavolos groans. “I want to feel you too, my love.”
“We can be careful,” she breathes, slipping her hand lower. “Please?”
He can never deny her anything when she says ‘please’ and looks at him like that. Diavolos groans again as she scoots closer, her lips soft against his chest. He pushes himself upright, then carefully lifts her to his lap. She winces, a brief grimace crossing her face as he moves her, and he stills as she inhales sharply.
“I’m fine,” she murmurs when he leans back and looks at her.
Diavolos raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re not a good liar, Kenna.”
“It hurts a little,” she admits reluctantly, leaning in and kissing him. “But you feel good. Don’t stop.”
He glides his hands down her back, shifting her closer. Kenna moans as he gently rocks her against him, banding his arms around her waist. Her breath is warm against his neck as they move, and he can’t help but murmur how much he loves her as she gasps his name.
Later, Diavolos lies on his side, his hand trailing over her right arm, drawing lines from her shoulder to her fingertips and back again. “Are you going to watch me all night?” she asks, yawning.
Diavolos grins. “It’s a habit now.”
“Mmm. You should sleep too,” she murmurs. “You look exhausted.”
“Are you trying to tell me I don’t look good?”
Kenna laughs quietly, then lifts her hand up, tracing her fingers over his lips and jawline. “No. Is this a new look?” she asks, referring to the heavier than normal stubble on his face as she runs her fingertips over it.
He chuckles. “It can be, if you want.”
“I like it,” she tells him, yawning again.
Diavolos leans down, pressing his lips to hers. It’s a sweet, comfortable, good-night kiss, one he’s gotten used to doing nightly, though he still loves the reminder that she’s his and that she’s here with him.
“Go to sleep, Kenna. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” she mumbles as her eyes close.
He wakes just after sunrise to gentle fingers running over his cheek again, a sleepy half-smile crossing his face as he opens his eyes.
“Sorry,” Kenna murmurs, slipping her hand down to rest against his chest. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” he says, stretching and then settling back against her. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good, except when you wouldn’t let me move,” she says teasingly, making him grin.
He knows he has a habit of wrapping himself around her at night, and that as much as she gives him grief for being ‘a snuggler’, she loves it. Kenna tilts her head up, kissing him slowly.
“I have a few meetings I’ve been putting off this morning,” he tells her, “but they shouldn’t take long.”
“Hmm,” she says, gliding her good hand up around his neck and into his hair, tugging him down to kiss him again. “You don’t have to leave right away, do you?”
Diavolos narrows his eyes, smirking at her. “I should, or I’ll be late.”
“You should wait a few minutes,” she replies, pressing her lips to his and lightly nipping at his lower lip, a quiet sigh escaping her mouth when he brushes his tongue over hers.
He’s about to teasingly remind her about how late they both always are for meetings, but she gives him that look again, whispering, “Please?” in his ear, and he knows he’ll give in.
“Stay,” she whispers, kissing him softly.
“Always, my love.”