Break Free (The Restraints of Duty)

Rio awoke to the sound of water sloshing and the faint scraping of something rough against metal. The morning mist clung to the air like a thin veil, swirling around her.

She stirred, head aching and limbs heavy, but her fever now a more manageable warmth. The cloak that covered her fell to her lap as she sat up. The color seemed to have switched from green to purple overnight.

Agatha.

Rio turned her head towards the source of the sound, and there was Agatha kneeling by the stream, scrubbing at her armor with a look of utter concentration.

It was unexpected, and for a moment, Rio thought she might still be delirious.

“Are you… washing my armor?” Her throat parched, voice cracking.

Agatha slightly jumped at the sudden voice, hands slipping against the breastplate. “You’re awake,” she said a little too brightly, pivoting to face Rio, hands continuing to scrub. “Excellent! I was beginning to think I would have to leave your corpse here for the animals and steal these to sell them for good coin.”

Rio blinked at her, then at the gleaming curve of her chest piece. She then noticed the rest of her armor pieces neatly arranged on the grass, her cloak spread out nearby. They were clean — immaculately so, compared to the state it was after days of river mud, travel, and fevered thrashing.

“Why are you washing it, my lady?” Rio asked again.

Agatha shrugged and says matter-of-factually. “You were not in any state to do it yourself.”

Rio stared at her, not with her usual exasperation, but something softer, a bit lost. “It… is not your concern.”

Agatha paused mid-scrub, something flickered in her expression — a flash of hurt or annoyance — but it was gone so fast that Rio wondered if she imagined it.

“You are correct, it is not.” Agatha said lightly. “Frankly, I was bored, and watching you drool in your sleep was far from riveting entertainment.”

Rio opened her mouth, and then closed it. Her mind was still foggy and the words sluggish on her tongue. “I do not—!”

“Drool?” Agatha interrupted, grinning. “Oh, but Ser Knight, you do. Like a hound.”

Rio’s jaw tightened in embarrassment. “I meant— I do not need you to—!”

“Yes, yes. You do not need help from me.” Agatha cleared her throat and made her voice exaggeratedly gruff, clearly mimicking Rio, “I am Ser Rio. I do not need help, I do not get sick, and I certainly do not drool!”

Rio openly glared at Agatha as she laughed.

“Careful, Knight. Your displeasure is apparent. Do mind your manners in front of your charge.” Agatha teased, turning attention back to scrubbing. “I am feeling quite peckish from my early start. Suppose you make yourself useful and scavenge us some food.”

After a meager breakfast of cracked eggs and roasted squirrel, Rio cleared the bank of proof of their campsite while Agatha finished eating her share.

Armor donned and belongings gathered, the pair traipsed upstream along the water when the sky had broke into pale pink streaks and dawn slowly creeped across the horizon.

It was midday now, and, despite the Knight’s insistence that the stream would lead them to a road, the path ahead felt endless.

They walked in relative silence — or, rather, Agatha let the silence hang despite her mind buzzing with thousands of unspoken quips. She watched Rio carefully… though she would never admit to it. Rio’s fever had broken, but the last traces of it lingered: a faint flush still clinging to her cheeks, brief moments of unsteadiness, and a measured type of quiet.

Then, soft and low, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Rio cleared her throat, as though she regretted having spoken at all. “For… tending to me. When I was ill.  And, for the washing of my possessions.” She looked over her shoulders and locked eyes with her. “Thank you, Lady Agatha.”

The flush of Rio’s cheeks appeared darker and Agatha felt feverish herself. She swallowed and pressed a hand to her forehead. “Oh, how bright and scorching the sun is. Must we have to walk out in the open, Ser? Might we go back under the veil of the treetops?”

“I am trying to guide us out of this forest and not back inside it.” Rio returned to facing in front of her. “Unless, of course, you much prefer wandering aimlessly until winter sets in.”

“Tempting. I do like a bit of adventure.”

“You like trouble.” Rio corrected.

Agatha gasped, hand flying to her heart as she beamed. “Oh, stop, Ser Knight! You are making me blush with how well you know me so!”

Rio shook her head ever so slightly. “It is the one thing I am certain of concerning you, my lady. The rest confounds me.”

Agatha snorted as she took two long strides and walked passed Rio. “I do not know what you mean, Ser. I believe myself to be quite an open book.” She cast Rio a sidelong glance. “Simply follow the stream and it should lead to a road, yes?”

Rio knit her brows in confusion at her sudden switch in topic. “…That is correct.”

Agatha grinned and nodded, stepping directly in front of Rio and causing the Knight to stop herself from bumping into her. “Then, I shall take the lead. As you are denying my request of solace from the sun, I will utilize the shadow that you cast.”

“I am not much farther from the ground as you.” Rio muttered but Agatha already strode ahead and most likely didn’t hear her.

“Keep up, Ser Knight.” Rio could hear Agatha’s grin. “We did intend to get out of this forest, did we not?”

Rio closed her eyes for a brief moment to gather herself before pressing on along.

They made a good distance before Agatha broke the silence, voice devoid of humor.

“There was no need to thank me, Ser. I could not very well let you die, could I?”

Rio’s gaze shifted to the woman walking before her, the distance between not so impossible. “No,” Rio said softly. “I suppose not.”

For a moment, it was only the steady, whispering undercurrent of the stream that filled whatever had just passed between them.

Then, “You were a terrible patient, by the way.”

Rio blinked. “…I beg your pardon?”

“Truly insufferable. Groaning and muttering in your sleep. Tossing about like a fish out of water.” Agatha went on. “I thought about smothering you with your own cloak a few times through the night.”

Rio huffed, incredulous, catching on to the teasing nature of Agatha’s voice. “I was unconscious.”

“Yet, still so dramatic.”

“You are—.”

“A menace,” Agatha finished for her, laughing. “Yes, I know. You remind me of it daily.”

Their back-and-forth felt easy, falling back into their usual banter. The soft babble of the water began to be a comforting background as they continued on as simply two people walking the same path.

The road unfurled before them like a promise. It wasn’t much — simply a worn, narrow path cutting through the dense wood — but to Rio it was an outstretched lifeline and it may as well have been a royal highway.

“Civilization!” Agatha declared when her boots finally struck the packed dirt rather than the endless tangle of roots and grass. She threw her arms wide in celebration as they trudged along the windy road. “I was beginning to think we would just be forest-dwellers forever and I would never see anything but trees and your grimace ever again.”

Rio gave her a flat look. “The trees, at least, were quiet.”

Agatha spun around with an embellished gasp. “You wound me, Ser!”

Rio did not indulge her and simply reached over and placed a hand on the Lady’s shoulder, spinning her back around and urging her to keep walking.

They walked until the sun hung lower in the sky until the road led them to a small town comprising of a cluster of wooden buildings and a market square. The smell of baking bread and roasting meat drifted through the air, and the faint buzz of human voices laughing, bargaining, and bickering was a welcome change from the sparse noise of the forest.

Agatha decided this must be what the Heavens above were like.

Her first instinct was to go straight to the tavern but Rio’s stern hand on her elbow guided her to the modest little inn with a sagging roof and a hand-painted weathered sign swinging in the breeze above the door.

“’Burn ‘N Brew.’” Agatha read aloud, squinting at the faded lettering. “How lovely.”

Rio grunted. “We will rest here. Regain our bearings.”

Agatha smirked, laying her eyes to the Knight. “And, do tell, how exactly do you plan to pay for this grand luxury, Ser? Your genteel charm?”

Rio’s jaw worked, a sign she hadn’t quite thought that far ahead.

Agatha let out a soft laugh and clapped a hand on her back, hand a bit heavy. “Oh, you poor, simple soul. Leave it to me, dear Knight.” She squared her shoulders, fixed her cloak to look just disheveled enough to be endearing, and strode into the inn before Rio could protest.

The inn’s common room smelled strongly of cinnamon and subtle notes of various parfum. There were a handful of tables arranged with intricate vases filled halfway with clear liquid and long burning incense.

A woman stood behind a counter, skin radiant and glowing, complimented by the pink dress she wore. Her eyes narrowed the moment Agatha and Rio stepped inside.

“No coin, no room,” the woman, whom they assumed to be the Innkeeper, did not bother with pleasantries

Rio frowned, but before she could say something noble and earnest, Agatha stepped forward, eyes wide and voice trembling at just the right pitch.

“Oh, dear ma’am, please hear me. My husband—” Rio raised a brow at the word, “—and I have traveled from so far and had been met with such an unfortunate journey. We were swept away by the storm, lost in the woods for days…”

Rio felt the woman’s inspecting eyes look her over, taking note of her armor and then locked on to the hilt of her sword. Rio found herself placing a hand on it and stepping the side to conceal it with her cloak, looking entirely too intimidating for someone about to beg for a room.

The Innkeeper crossed her arms. “Your ‘husband,’ eh?”

Rio opened her mouth to refute the claim but Agatha swiftly linked her arm through hers and gave it a squeeze — probably in warning.

“Yes!” Agatha leaned ever so slightly into Rio. “My beloved. Brave, is he not? Risked his life to save mine. We barely made it here to this quaint town… No coin, no food. Just each other.”

There was a beat of silence. Agatha even dabbed at an imaginary tear.

The Innkeeper tapped a finger against the counter, a skeptic scowl on her face, brows arched. “…You must think me a fool born yesterday. Do you really expect me to believe all that?”

Rio felt as though she might be physically ill, her body growing warm. It was time to put an end to this charade and she stepped forward to try and take back Agatha’s embellished tale, but the exaggerated sigh from her companion stopped her.

“Oh, dear Heavens, no! I do not mean to insult your intelligence. However, believe what you will, I only speak the truth. On my father’s grave, I swear we are but honest travelers.” Agatha said with a soft, tragic smile. “Might you have a spare room? Just for the night?”

Just then, a short woman carrying a basket entered through the front.

“Dear, Lilia said she had run out. I went over to Sharon’s and borrowed some of her nectar instead. Remind me to — oh! We have customers.”

“They were just leaving.”

Agatha whipped her head to the Innkeeper, eyes wide. “Please! My poor husband, even with the fever that struck him and had him sweating through his armor, still protected me and managed to bring us back to civilization and inside your fine establishment. He may look fine but he is too proud and I was not able to tend to him properly.”

Rio fought the urge to run a hand down her face.

The Innkeeper slammed a hand on the counter making everyone in the room jump. Her icy glare directed back on Agatha. “Like I told you prior, ‘no coin, no room.’”

The woman walked to the counter and placed the basket on it. She gave a questioning glance at the Innkeeper. “What goes on here?”

“Thieving beggars.” The Innkeeper practically spat.

There was a long pause as the short woman studied the pair — finally, she sighed. “Your husband does not look too sick to chop wood.”

“No, but he is still weak,” Agatha said solemnly, “see how pale he is?”

“I am not!” Rio protested.

The short woman’s sharp gaze lingering on Rio’s stiff posture and faint pink flush creeping up her neck.

“I’ll chop the wood,” the woman said with finality. “He can scrub the floors.”

“Oh, well… that seems a bit—.” Agatha blinked.

“Or you sleep outside.”

“Scrubbing sounds wonderful.”

The woman nodded sharply. “We have a small room you may use. Nothing fancy. In exchange, you both work. You assist with the laundry come morning.”

“I thank you!” Agatha beamed, unable to hide her glee at securing a bed for the night. “We are forever in your debt!”

“Alice!” The Innkeeper furrowed her brows, dismayed.

The woman, Alice, gave the Innkeeper a pointed look. “They obviously look nothing like beggars. This one looks worse for wear,” she tilted her head towards Rio. “And what have I said about focusing on coin, Jennifer Kale?”

“It is precisely because they do not look like beggars that I did not offer them a room!” The Innkeeper nearly shouted, pointing at Rio. “That quality of armor and no coin? You ought to have these thieves arrested, Sherriff!”

“I will have you know, these belongings are our own!” Agatha harrumphed.

Alice tutted and shook her head. “If they were thieves, you would have already been cut down simply by how rude you have treated them, my dear.”

That statement seemed to dissipate the intensity of the Innkeeper as she sulked and grumbled to herself.

Alice cast an apologetic look toward the two travelers. “I do apologize for Jen’s behavior toward you. It has been a while since we received travelers. The last batch was a bit rowdy and may have been a band of bandits.”

A scoff came from Jennifer’s direction, who continued to pout as she cleaned the counter and put away the contents of the basket.

“No worry at all, madam. I do not fault her for being wary of us. We appear a suspicious pair after all.” Rio unbuckled her belt and offered her sword. “You may hold on to my weapon for the length of our stay here if it so eases your mind.”

“None of that.” Alice waved her hand in dismissal. “I trust you not to—.”

“Well, I do not.” Jennifee suddenly appeared and reached over, snatching the sheathed sword from Rio’s hands. “I will take you up on that offer and store it.”

There was a small sound of protest in the back of Rio’s throat as her eyes followed Jennifer walk with her sword to a cabinet, hands slightly outreached for her weapon.

Alice and Agatha chuckled at the scene that played out before them.

“I expect you to keep your ‘husband’ out of trouble. Do not think we are turning a blind eye to his having a weapon even if it has been locked away.”

“Oh, do not worry about him. He will be of no trouble at all!” Agatha smirked, patting Rio’s arm still linked with hers. “He is really quite helpless without me.”

Rio was too occupied keeping an eye on her sword to register the conversation.

Alice hesitated for a beat before saying, “You do not have to keep appearances here. Not to us, anyway.” Alice nodded toward Jennifer who was unlocking the cabinet and storing Rio’s sword.

Agatha looked between Alice and the Innkeeper, realization clicking in place. “Oh.”

“Living is hard enough as it is, may as well embrace your truth and live in joy.”

Agatha didn’t have the heart to correct her, understanding the courage it must have taken for Alice to allude to the nature of her relationship. “We are deeply grateful.”

Alice smiled softly and motioned for the two of them to follow her. “Come on. Let us get you both cleaned. We can worry about chores once you are well rested.”

Alice led them through a hallway of rooms behind the main counter. They stopped at the end of the hall and Alice left them in front of a locked door to grab the key to the room.

As soon as they were alone, Rio rounded on Agatha, voice low so it wouldn’t carry down the hall. “’Husband?’”

Agatha grinned, shrugging. “It worked, did it not?”

“You could have said I was your brother,” Rio hissed, “or maybe the truth and say I was your guard.”

“What, and miss the opportunity to see you this perturbed?” Agatha laughed, leaning back and taking in the frustrated way Rio pinched the bridge of her nose. “I think what should be leaving your mouth is a ‘thank you.’ It is warranted. Tonight we sleep in a bed and not on the dirt.”

Rio’s mouth thinned, unable to argue with that fact.

“You are very welcome, Ser.” Agatha said, patting Rio’s arm. “Although, you could have played along better. A bit of a swoon or a cough would have sold it more.”

Rio shook her head. “I do not lie.”

“It was hardly a lie. More like… well-placed half-truths, simply doing whatever it takes to survive.”

“There is a difference.”

“Of course there is.” Agatha smiled to her herself.

Their conversation died when Alice returned with the key and extra blankets and a change of clothes for each of them. Jennifer had accompanied her carrying some soaps and a plate of bread, cured meats, sliced tomatoes, and cheese.

At the sight of food that was not freshly hunted critters that shared the woods with them, Agatha’s stomach grumbled something fierce, earning her the first and only smile they would see on Jennifer’s face.

The room was indeed small — cozy in the way only a countryside inn could be. Plain wood walls, a single crooked window, and hearth that housed a faint, lazy fire that was more smoke than heat.

The particular thing that stole Rio’s attention was the bed.

One bed.

Barely large enough to fit one person comfortably.

“Well,” Agatha drawled, folding her arms and tilting her head at the sad little thing. “I hope you do not trash around like you did in the woods.”

Rio didn’t rise to the bait, expression as stony as ever aside from the familiar clench that Agatha grew to learn meant she was getting under her skin.

“I will sleep on the floor,” Rio says simply.

Agatha blinked at her then gave a snort. “Oh, do not be ridiculous.”

“It is not ridiculous. It is proper.”

Agatha turned to face Rio fully, taking in the stubborn set of her shoulders and way her hand hovered near where the hilt of her sword would have been if it wasn’t locked up. “You do realize sharing a bed does not necessarily mean we will be—.”

“I know.” Rio cut in, ears a bit pink. She stepped around her and grabbed one of the spare blankets Alice had left on a small stool, like she was determined to have a makeshift sleeping arrangement ready before Agatha could argue.

Which, of course, meant Agatha had to argue.

“Honestly,” Agatha sighed, kicking off her boots and placing htem neatly by the doorway. “You are going to be miserable sleeping on the floor. I am not sure you will enjoy sleeping on splinters.”

“I have slept on worse.”

“Yes, but you do not have to. Is sharing a bed with me really more horrible than the worse place you have slept in?” Agatha nudged the wooden floor with the toes of her foot, the planks creaking ominously. “Oh, come now, Ser. There is enough space for both of us. I promise I will not steal all the blankets.”

“That is not what concerns me.”

Agatha tapped a finger against her chin thoughtfully. “Then, are you afraid you will do something untoward under the veil of the night?”

Rio’s lips thinned as she threw the blanket on the bed. “Of course not!”

An insufferable smile tugged at Agatha’s mouth. “Then I see no issue.”

Rio moved to the far corner of the room, unbuckling the straps on her armor with the practiced efficiency of someone who had done it thousands of times. Even so, Agatha didn’t miss the slight tremor in her hands. Rio opened her mouth to object again, but Agatha cut her off.

“It is freezing outside, Ser Knight. You are still not fully recovered from that fever. If you sleep on the floor, you will be too stiff to accomplish that chore of yours in the morning.”

Silence stretched between them, not quite uncomfortable but certainly not easy either.

Finally, Rio gave an exhale that sounded like defeat, “Fine.”

Agatha smiled, content. “I knew you would see reason.”

Bodies bathed and changed into the clothes provided by Alice and bellies satisfied with the simple meal Jennifer had brought, the two were now ready to go to bed.

The bed was even smaller than Rio feared.

When Rio returned from her bath, she found Agatha already flopped down onto one side, propped up on one elbow. From the way she gave a pat on the other half of the mattress, Rio couldn’t help but think it was as if Agatha stayed up to make sure Rio did sleep in the bed and not on the floor.

Rio lowered herself stiffly onto the bed, lying as close to the edge as possible, one leg dangling off the side. Her back was ramrod straight and her arms crossed stiffly over her chest like a knight laid out for burial.

Agatha had fallen asleep almost instantly after Rio had lain down. She was curled up on her side, facing away from Rio.

Rio had to huff a laugh at how at ease the young Lady seemed, sleeping as she pleased and unbothered by the circumstances.

Though her body was weighed down by exhaustion and the mere sensation of sleeping on something as soft as a bed, Rio’s mind refused to quiet.

Agatha was asleep. Not goading her, deliberately testing the limits of her patience, not forcing her attention toward her with some ridiculous scheme.

Agatha was close-by, just… breathing. Steady, slow. Tranquil.

It was comforting.

Rio let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

The rhythmic sound of the quiet rise and fall of Agatha’s breathing began to lull Rio to sleep. Soon, the Knight found her lids grow heavy and she closed her eyes.

For the first time in a long time, sleep found her easily.

Rio’s eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the dim moonlight filtering through the window. For a fleeting moment, there was a familiar peace — a calm that came from habit of waking and expecting the familiar weight of duty and routine.

Then, she noticed the other weight.

A very human, very present weight.

Agatha.

Her arm was draped across her chest, face tucked somewhere near her shoulder, and — Rio swallowed — one of Agatha's legs between her own like they were lovers tangled together after a long night. She was warm, soft in sleep, breath a slow rhythm against her neck.

Rio went absolutely, terrifyingly still.

Rio distinctly remembered staying as far to her side of the bed as humanly possible, making sure there was at least a hand’s width between them.

And yet here Agatha was, completely sprawled over her like a cat claiming its favorite spot.

Slowly, carefully, Rio moved her arm — or tried to. Agatha made a small, unconscious noise in reponse, her grip tightening and fingers curling into the fabric of Rio’s tunic.

Rio chewed the inside of her cheeks.

The logical part of her mind told her to wake Agatha — gently, of course — and put an end to this predicament. But another part of her, the part that was far less disciplined and far more confused, whispered that waking Agatha would mean acknowledging whatever this was and facing her inevitable smirk and string of merciless teasing.

Stuck at a crossroad, Rio lay there, stiff as a board, staring at the ceiling.

Minutes passed. Maybe an hour.

Rio wasn’t sure how long she lay there caught between dread and jeopardy.

At one point, Agatha shifted again, nuzzling her face further into her shoulder and fingers splaying lazily against her chest. Rio felt every nerve in her body stand at full attention. She attempted to wiggle out of Agatha’s embrace once more, stopping only when she felt Agatha’s arm flex.

Rio looked down and saw the young Lady’s slow blink, eyes unfocused and brows creased in soft confusion. Rio braced herself as she watched Agatha blink herself awake. Looked at her chest. At her hand. At the way their legs were tangled.

Then, very slowly, her gaze lifted to meet Rio’s.

The room was filled with the quiet found in the early hours of the morning where the world seemed half-asleep.

“Oh,” Agatha murmured, voice husky with sleep. “Ser Knight.”

Rio cleared her throat. “You are on me, my lady.”

“So I am.” Agatha smiled sleepily.

“Would you mind—?” Rio started, but Agatha shifted — not away from her, but even closer, resting her head fully on her shoulder, arm still loosely draped across her.

Agatha yawned and muttered, eyes closed and speech slurring slightly as she let sleep reclaim her. “Mmm. If only you were this cozy in reality, dear Knight.”

The scent of her was suddenly all Rio could smell: wood-smoke from the fire, the faint sweetness of whatever soap the Innkeeper had left for them to use, and the same floral scent that seemed to linger on Agatha no matter what situation.

Rio swallowed hard.

She really needed to move and gently disentangle herself and push Agatha back to her side of the bad.

But the young Lady looked so serene and Rio hated the thought of stirring her sleep when they finally slept on a proper bed.

Rio would endure this. She had faced far worse hardships in the form of storms, battles, and bloodied fields.

What was a stray limb or two?

Rio resigned herself to her fate stuck beneath the Lady she was meant to escort. She continued to stare at the ceiling, breathing shallow. Willing herself not to move, not to react, and not to acknowledged the fact that she was with no armor to shield her from the most dangerous and truly unforgivable thing of all — how her traitorous heart gave a slight, almost imperceptible stutter every time small, sleepy sighs escaped Agatha’s lips and provided ghost kisses at her neck.