The dock was gone. In its place, the low murmur of conversation and the smell of stale ale and woodsmoke filled the air. They were in a dark corner of the Spinning Jenny, and her past self was already halfway through a fourth tankard of Terran Thunder. In the memory, she was bored. Annoyed. Listless. In need of sensual pleasures. No matter how many tankards she drank, the feeling did not subside; in fact, the more she drank, the more intense the feelings became.
She had been left to her own devices at the Jenny. Most of the people she was familiar with had left already; there were some townies mingling about. A couple of them approached her to praise the paper, to which she smiled and nodded and thanked them for their support. The pages of the book in front of her remained unturned as the minutes ticked by and her fingers tapped on the edge of her tankard anxiously.
“Oh, I know what this is about,” Poppy said to the dragon, who was now padding around and examining table legs. “This is when I tried to finally take Jason up on his offers.”
“I don’t see him here,” Draconus remarked, finally jumping on a table to sit next to the Poppy that was currently trying to find answers at the bottom of a mug.
“He went to bed a couple hours prior to this.” Poppy watched as past her began picking at her cuticles, glancing at the staircase with increasing frequency. After a few more minutes she stood up with a sense of resolve. In one motion she shut the book, stuffed it in her bag, and swung it over her shoulder as she started for the stairs.
“What made you decide to go up there?” the dragon’s voice was laced with an anxious curiosity.
“Am I supposed to analyze why a drunk me is going up to Jason’s room now?” Poppy retorted, following her past self at a distance. “I was bored, he was an acceptable Civen citizen, he’d propositioned me a few times… there were a lot of reasons.”
“All reasons to go,” Draconus pressed, his silver scales flashing. “But why did you?”
Because I always used physical contact as a distraction, she thought, the real reason surfacing. A way to ground myself… with random hookups, with Niko, and now with Jason.
Poppy chose to not voice this out loud as she watched herself knock on Titus’ door, waiting only three seconds before knocking again. The door opened, and Poppy could see that she was pushing against Titus’ chest and backing him into the room, kicking the door closed behind her as she proclaimed that she was bored and attempting to kiss him.
“And it was that easy, was it?”
Poppy snorted. “I could hardly consent in that state, and Jason has morals. Though I really don’t remember too much. He just said I fell asleep on his bed when I brought it up.”
“Fell asleep and never left, it looks like.”
“I mean, I remember the next morning just fine. I did leave the bed and went to get breakfast.” She paused. “And then I came back later.”
“But you don’t remember this part,” Draconus prompted, gesturing with his head at the door. Poppy sighed and opened it.
The memory on the other side was hazy at first, like looking through fogged glass. She could hear the sound of her own drunken rambling, but the words were indistinct. All she could see clearly was Jason, sitting on the bed, looking down at something in his lap with an expression of unwavering patience.
Then, the fog cleared and the memory snapped into focus. Her past self was lying on the bed, fully clothed, her head in Jason’s lap as he gently ran his fingers through her hair. She was rambling, the words a messy jumble of secrets.
”…so now I have to get my sis- hic- sister home,” she slurred, her voice thick. “Before he gets tired of waiting. Sends Niko.” She went quiet for a moment, her train of thought derailing as she grabbed a pillow and hugged it. “You have nice pillows. S’very soft.” She yawned.“Of course you have nice pillows. Have you thought about getting better pillowcases? Like who decorated this place anyway?”
“My ex-wife,” Titus spoke in the memory. His voice was a low, patient rumble. In the memory, her drunk self was reading his tone as amusement. Now, she recognized it as concern.
“Oh.” her past self mulled this over. “Well, she had bad taste.” She picked at a loose thread on the pillowcase. “This is nice, though. Being here.” She gestured out the window at the town. “I can just… be. Not worrying about what people see. Feel like my own person. Don’t wanna go home and not be able to do that anymore.”
“I told him everything,” she whispered in shock. “That first night. Lynn, Niko, how I felt about being here… It took me weeks to actually trust him with all that, and he already knew.” Her voice was a mixture of horror and frustration. “He never said a word. He just let me tell him all over again.”
“He has that annoying habit of being patient, doesn’t he?” Draconus murmured, rose gold scales glowing softly. His tone, for once, was almost fond.
”Like that’s what I really like about SIP. It’s mine. Nobody can touch it. I made it myself and I can do what I want with it.” She picked at a loose thread on the pillowcase. “You should get an interior decorator. Everything is very- square. And neutral-colored. And boring. No wonder your face is always so grumpy, you don’t have anything fun in here.”
“It functions just fine.”
“Yes, yes, it functions just fine, Consul, but have you considered that maybe there’s more to life than function?” The Poppy on the bed hiccuped again, curling up against the pillow and looking up at Titus with one eye open. “Like would sex be fun if people did it for just function? There’s an entire resort based around it being fun and not just functional.”
“That isn’t quite the same thing.”
“It’s a metaphor, Titus, come on.” She reached up and tapped him on the nose. “Boop.”
He let out a laugh and started running his fingers through her hair again. “You should get some sleep, Poppy.”
“I’m so awake though. And I have some paper articles to write. I was planning on doing that but my mind kept getting distracted.” Past Poppy yawned again and her words started slowing down. “Like I was going to try to finish writing up the article about the Harbingers having issues with Q’watie Kharn…” she looked up at Titus again. “I really like that people like SIP. It’s like the one thing I’ve done that isn’t just a piece in some bigger end goal. It’s just my thing.”
Titus didn’t respond. Poppy watched as her breathing evened out and eyes closed.
“You know, it’s comfy here. I feel like I could sleep here for a really, really long time and be happy.” The words were mumbled and barely cohesive. “Can I care if you just stay here? House is a walk and Shelaz is gonna Shelaz and he might stab me if I make too much noise because wraith or something.”
“No, I don’t mind. You can stay as long as you want.” Titus’ voice was soft as her past self’s shoulders slumped, sleep finally overtaking her.
The memory clouded, having ended as she fell asleep, and Poppy found herself back on the dock.
“I remember waking up the next morning in his bed,” she said, the words coming slowly. “He told me I wouldn’t take Purify Spirit, so he made me sleep it off while he took the couch. I was so embarrassed.”
“But you went back,” Draconus prompted gently.
“I kept going back,” she admitted. “Sometimes we didn’t even do anything. I would just lay on his couch and read, and he’d bring me tea when mine got cold. It was just… nice.” A familiar tingling started behind her eyes, and she wrinkled her nose to hold it back.
“So,” Draconus’s voice was soft, insistent. “Let’s return to the initial question, the first piece of this clue. Why did you really go upstairs that night?”
Poppy stared over the lake for a long while before she answered. “Because I was scared,” she whispered. “I was so worried that I would feel something real that I got drunk and pretended I was after something meaningless.”
“You were scared of what, precisely?”
“I was terrified that if I let myself have something good, I would lose it.” The words were tumbling out now. “So I tried to ruin it before it even had a chance to start.”
“But you didn’t ruin it, did you?”
Poppy laughed. “Jason’s too stubborn to get rid of that easily.”
⊰
The Poppy in bed grumbled and pulled the covers over her head as she awoke. “What godsawful hour is it right now, I feel like I was up all night-”
“Because you were,” Poppy squinted against the memory of sunlight filtering in through the curtains of her bedroom.
“Where are we now?” Draconus asked, padding around the room. His scales were a bright rose gold, amplified by the natural lighting in the room.
Poppy took in the familiar details of her own bedroom. “My villa,” she said, a strange ache in her chest. “I haven’t been back in over a year.”
The Poppy in bed rolled over and reached out, her arm hitting the bed with a light thunk. She pushed the blankets off of her head, coming to the realization that the other half was empty and neatly made.
“This was a couple months into our- friendship with benefits? I’m not even sure what to call it. I refused to make anything official.” Poppy spoke as she watched herself roll onto her back and look up at the ceiling, yawning. “It didn’t go unnoticed by my family, either way. I came back from Maplewood with most of my staff replaced with spies for my grandfather and a side of ‘Penelope, you did so well to hook this one.’”
“Your family actually respects Jason’s position?”
“Oh, not at all. I still haven’t figured out what game they’re playing.” The scent of coffee wafted in through the cracked door and followed herself as she finally sat up, slid her legs off the side of the bed,threw on the clothes that had been discarded on the floor and padded her way across the house to the kitchen.
“Thanks Edmund, I really needed the coffee- oh.” She had stopped in the doorway as she realized that it was not her cook that was standing at the stovetop.
“Good Morning.” Titus was gesturing to a mug of coffee on the table located in the middle of the kitchen. Whatever utensil he was holding while he did so dripped some sort of liquid onto the floor. “I assumed you could use that after last night’s festivities.”
“I didn’t know you could cook.” The thought was out before she could stop it and she snapped her mouth shut, embarrassed. He looked at her, eyebrow raised, waiting for something.
“Poppy, I’m sure whatever you are saying is very interesting but I can’t understand you.” Titus’ voice was laced with amusement.
“You’re speaking Sylvan, you idiot,” she berated her past self, the words a low mutter.
“You’re being a little harsh on yourself,” Draconus observed, padding into the kitchen and stretching up to look at what was on the stove.
“Am I?” Poppy retorted softly. “I just wish I’d cared more about making him comfortable back then.”
“He doesn’t look upset.” The fire from the stove reflected off the dragon’s rose-gold scales.
“Shit, sorry. I said thanks for the coffee and I didn’t know you could cook.” she was saying, her ears starting to turn red.
“You’re welcome.”
“It’s still early, sorry.” Her past self apologized again and slid into a chair, sipping at the coffee. “Not bad. Where’s Edmund anyway?”
“Ava sent him on some errand to get things for dinner, something about your brother coming over later?”
“Makes sense.”
The silence, Poppy recalled, had felt awkward. But watching the memory now, she realized she’d been wrong. It wasn’t awkward at all; it was comfortable. She observed the easy way Titus made small talk as he cooked, and the way her past self simply nursed her coffee, her eyes slowly brightening as she woke. She saw the way she laughed as they began eating, discussing the mundane tasks that they had to complete that day. The interaction she’d misremembered as forced and unnatural was actually gentle, if a little shy. Her past self wasn’t deflecting, wasn’t performing, wasn’t trying to redirect the conversation. For once, she was just… still.
“I hope Edmund’s cooking is up to par with this, it’s the first time I’ve seen you eat a full meal in a while.” Titus remarked, clearing the plates off the table and turning to the sink.
“At least I know yours isn’t poisoned.” He paused, turning back to her past self with a confused look. “Our Grandmother used to do that,” she explained, her voice taking on a casual, storytelling tone that didn’t quite match the horror of her words. “It was kind of a game, to see if we could figure out if what she gave us was tampered with or not. I got good at it after a while. It turns out that she had a ring that she could hide alchemicals in, so even if it wasn’t tampered with to start you would have to make sure it didn’t happen in the middle of the meal. At least she wasn’t trying to kill us.”
Poppy snorted as she listened to herself. “I used to think that was a fun party game. I learned poison immunity by the time I was six.”
“A party game,” Draconus murmured, his rose-gold scales seeming to dim for a moment. “He is the first person you have ever told that story to who reacted without overreacting.”
The observation hit a little too close to home. “I’ve always had a knack for both avoiding poisons and Aegis magic. Couldn’t imagine why,” she said, deflecting with a flick to Draconus’s nose.
“Seems like a good way to kill someone. Set it up as a game, and if an accident happens…” Titus was saying, shrugging as he walked around the table and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’m going to need to get going, I have those things to do at home and I want to get back before it gets dark.”
“Have a safe trip.” Poppy leaned her head into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Same time next week?”
“Sure.” He held her in a hug slightly longer than was probably necessary. “See you then.”
“This is all fairly normal.” Draconus huffed, watching as Titus walked out of the kitchen. “I don’t understand why this is a fundamental memory for you.”
“It’s because it was normal,” Poppy said, a longing ache settling in her chest. “He made it feel normal. It felt like the only time in my life I wasn’t in a fight.”
“When did you start fighting him?”
“About six months after this happened.” Poppy hesitated. “I don’t want to see it.”
“I think our next clue is there.”
⊰
She was in the library of her villa. Flower petals were swirling frantically in the space, her magic manifesting to reflect the anxiety and fear that was threatening to boil over. Books started falling off the shelves, candles flickering as Poppy stood in the center of the room, holding her arms to herself.
“I don’t want to see this.”
“What is happening? What are you seeing?” Draconus asked, his voice tight with an anxiety that mirrored her own, his now silver scales flashing erratically.
“It’s the ichor,” she whispered, gesturing at the room. “This was one of the first times. I kept seeing it oozing out of the walls wherever I looked. I wasn’t used to it yet.”
“And him?” Draconus pressed, nodding toward the memory of Titus. “Why are you pushing him away? He’s trying to help.”
In the memory, her past self had her eyes squeezed shut, her face buried in her hands as if she could physically block out the hallucinations.
“Poppy, what is going on?” Titus stepped forward but was repelled by a shimmering field of petals that swirled around her in a frenzy.
“It’s fine, I’m fine, just go away!” she cried, her voice thin and panicked.
“You’re lying to him,” Draconus whispered, his voice frantic. “Why are you lying? Just tell him what you’re seeing.”
“He couldn’t fix it!” Poppy snapped back at the dragon. “Nobody could. I just wanted to be left alone.”
She watched as the Titus in her memory dispelled her sanctuary, the petals bursting into harmless sparks. He didn’t intrude, but sat on the floor a few feet away, a quiet, patient presence. Eventually, her past self crawled the short distance and leaned into him, her shoulders shaking as he pulled her into a hug, whispering soothing words into her ear.
“He didn’t need to know the details,” she said, her voice softer now. “If I had told him about the ichor, he would have tried to push for a cure. I couldn’t risk that. I didn’t want one at the time. I didn’t know the truth about the ordeals.”
“You made the decision for him,” Draconus stated, his tone shifting from panic to a quiet sadness. “You didn’t even give him the choice.”
The memory of him holding her as she fell asleep on the floor shifted, blurring into a darker scene from later that night. Her past self was asleep on one of the plush couches, Titus sitting in a chair nearby.
Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, a scream tearing from her throat as she started flailing, her eyes wide with unseeing terror. Titus was there in an instant, letting the wild swings glance off his forearms as he knelt in front of her. “Poppy,” he said, his voice a low, steady anchor. “Poppy, you’re here. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
He didn’t try to restrain her until her flailing began to subside, and then he gently took her wrists, pulling her into a firm hug. Present-day Poppy turned away from the memory, unable to watch.
“Why do I have to keep reliving this?” she whispered, her voice tight with pain.
“Same reason as the others,” Draconus replied, his voice soft, his silver scales shimmering with a nervous energy. “There’s a clue here. What is it?”
“That I’m an insensitive bitch who needs to rely on the one person who is actually trying to fix me? I don’t know!” she shot back, her frustration boiling over.
“No,” Draconus said, his tone surprisingly gentle. “Look again. He isn’t trying to fix you. He is simply refusing to let you face the darkness alone. Why is that so difficult for you to accept?”
⊰
The memory dissolved away and she was standing in Titus’ room, watching herself pace the space as she rambled.
“It wants to know about Blightfyre, Jason. Badly,” she rambled, her voice tight with manic energy. “And the Maelstrom. There’s a lynchpin, a piece of evidence I’m missing that connects them, and I just need to find it—”
“Poppy,” Titus said, his voice a calm, steady anchor in the storm of her obsession. “Please. You’ve been at this for hours. You need to take a break.”
“I can’t take a break!” she snapped, whirling on him. “You don’t understand, I’m so close—”
“Poppy, I do understand,” he said, his voice rising but remaining firm. He walked to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I know what it’s like to be one clue away from solving a case. But you’re not just working hard. You’re running yourself into the ground. Please. For me. Just for tonight.”
The fight went out of her, replaced by a wave of exhaustion. ”Okay,” she whispered, leaning into him. “I’m sorry. I’ll slow down.” She moved her hands so she was holding his face, forehead to forehead. “I’m sorry.” She kissed him, arching her back and pressing herself against him.
The memory of his study dissolved, and she was on the dock once more, the eternal twilight a quiet, mournful witness.
“I lied,” she said to the universe, her voice hollow. “I didn’t slow down. I just hid it better.”
She looked down at her hands, remembering the feeling of his embrace. “He’s never made me do anything I don’t want to,” she realized, the words catching in her throat as tears began to well in her eyes. “He watched me go insane from this curse, and he never tried to take control, never tried to force a cure. He just… trusted me to handle it when I was ready.”
“And you trusted him,” Draconus stated, his voice a soft, simple fact.
“Not enough,” Poppy whispered, the tears now freely tracing paths down her cheeks. “I didn’t trust him enough.”
“You didn’t tell him you were going to die,” Draconus prompted, his rose gold scales fading to a silver that almost seemed accusatory.
“I told him I might not make it through the shrines—”
“That is not the same thing,” the dragon interrupted, his voice losing its softness and gaining a sharp, investigative edge. “You went to that shrine intending to die. And you did not tell him.”
“What was I supposed to say?!” she finally exploded, the grief and guilt of a year erupting from her. “What was the point in telling him? To make him watch? To make him feel helpless? To make him try and stop me? It was my choice! He didn’t need to know!”
“Was it?” Draconus countered, his voice quiet again. “Or was it just another secret? Another wall? You say he gave you the freedom to choose, Poppy. Did you ever give him the same courtesy?”
The question hung in the air as her anger collapsed, leaving only an aching feeling in her chest.
“No,” she finally admitted, the word barely a sound. “I didn’t.”
⊰
The memory of her manic research faded, leaving her on the dock alone with the phantom scent of coffee and old books.
“He let you stay,” Draconus murmured, his rose gold scales shimmering softly. “Even when you were running yourself into the ground. He made a space for your chaos.”
“He made a space for everything,” Poppy whispered, as the memory reformed around them.
They were in Titus’ room at the Jenny, but it was different now. Softer. A fire crackled in the hearth. Her boots were kicked off haphazardly in the middle of the room, a short ways away from where his were sitting neatly next to the door. Her own worn copy of A Court of Ink and Parchment was sitting on his reading table, right next to a stack of Civen legal texts. An entire shelf on his bookshelf, once filled with political theory, was now occupied by her favorites from her personal collection.
Her past self was curled up on a plush couch, reading one of her books, a half-empty teacup on the floor beside her. Titus was in his armchair opposite her, reading through a stack of letters. It was quiet. Not an awkward silence, but a deep, comfortable quiet that Poppy hadn’t recognized until she saw it now.
“Look at the evidence,” Draconus murmured, his rose gold scales glowing with a soft, warm light. “Your books, your boots, your tea. Did it ever occur to you that you were nesting? Or were you too busy fighting to notice?”
Poppy didn’t answer him. She just watched as her past self looked up as she closed the book she had just finished.
“I can’t find my copy of Silver Spark,” she said.
Titus didn’t even look up from his stack of letters. “It’s on my bedside table. You were reading it last night.”
The casual intimacy of the statement hung in the air. He knew where her things were. She was reading in his bed. This wasn’t a series of one-night stands; this was a life, woven together so slowly and quietly she hadn’t even noticed.
“You know,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, “you have more books on that bedside table than I do now.”
Her past self tensed slightly, and Draconus’s scales next to her started taking on a silver tone. “Are you saying you want me to move them?”
“No, No, of course not,” he said quickly. “I’m just… observing. There are three of your mugs in my kitchen. I’ve started stocking that Elvish tea you like without even thinking about it. You haven’t slept at your own house in months.” He stopped to take a breath. “We’ve been doing this for almost a year now, Poppy.”
“We can stop if you want.” She watched herself curl her knees closer to her chest, the purple strand of hair from the veilwalker curse dropping in front of her face.
“That’s not what I mean.” He looked at her directly then, his gaze serious. “Poppy, you can stay as long as you want. I want you here.”
Her past self looked at him and the grip she had on the book she was holding loosened slightly. With anyone else, that statement would have sent a jolt of panic and a need to find the nearest exit. With Niko, it would have been the prelude to a fight or a game as a cage door slammed shut.
But with Titus, sitting here in the quiet warmth of the fire, it didn’t feel like a trap; she believed him when he said he wanted her there. Her walls were useless against such a vulnerable and honest statement. Where her instinct to flee should have been, there was only an unnerving sense of calm.
⊰
The memory shifted, leaving her on the dock alone with the phantom scent of tea and old books. As she replayed the evidence—the patient waiting, the quiet comfort, the simple honesty—the final conclusion of her investigation clicked into place.
“It wasn’t a fight,” Poppy whispered to the quiet air. “My whole life had been a series of fights. I was waiting for this one to start, but it never came.”
“Jason did not meet your chaos with chaos of his own,” Draconus observed, his rose gold scales sparkling softly. “He just withstood it.”
Poppy laughed, a small sound that barely disturbed the space. “So that’s what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immoveable object.”
She had always thought it was an old joke, a paradox that scholars loved to debate. She was one half of that equation—a force of nature, an endless, swirling storm of problems and plans destined to tear everything apart.
And then there was Titus. A quiet, solid presence that didn’t move, no matter how high the waves crashed. He was the only person who had ever simply stayed, just existing in his space and opening it to her unconditionally.
She paused, the full weight of the realization settling over her. “I kept circling him, trying to wear him down, waiting for him to crack. I was trying to prove I was just as broken as everyone thought.”
“To prove you were incapable of being loved,” Draconus corrected, his voice a soft, simple fact.
“Yes,” Poppy whispered, the admission catching in her throat as tears began to well in her eyes. “And he refused to prove me right.”
The realization of it washed over her then, a conclusion that finally silenced the anxiety that buzzed beneath their entire relationship. Her chaos hadn’t broken Titus; it couldn’t. Her unstoppable force had just finally found something it could crash into that wouldn’t shatter.
And for the first time, Poppy wanted to stay.